Alexander Pope Quotes
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Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! They had no poet, and they died. In vain they schem'd, in vain they bled! They had no poet, and are dead.
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Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey, Dost sometimes counsel take — and sometimes tea.
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Thou Great First Cause, least understood Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good And that myself am blind.
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I am his Highness' dog at Kew; Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
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Therefore they who say our thoughts are not our own because they resemble the Ancients, may as well say our faces are not our own, because they are like our Fathers: And indeed it is very unreasonable, that people should expect us to be Scholars, and yet be angry to find us so.
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Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
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It is with narrow-souled people as with narrow necked bottles: the less they have in them, the more noise they make in pouring it out.
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Good God! how often are we to die before we go quite off this stage? in every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the best part.
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When men grow virtuous in their old age, they only make a sacrifice to God of the devil's leavings.
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Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes; The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods.
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For he lives twice who can at once employ The present well, and e'en the past enjoy.
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Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clam'rous lapwings feel the leaden death; Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
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'Boast not my fall (he cried), insulting foe! Thou by some other shalt be laid as low; Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind; All that I dread is leaving you behind! Rather than so, ah let me still survive, And burn in Cupid's flames - but burn alive.'
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Happy the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground.
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Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.
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And binding Nature fast in fate, Left free the human will.
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They dream in Courtship, but in Wedlock wake.
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Not louder shrieks to pitying heav'n are cast, When husbands, or when lapdogs, breathe their last.
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Let such, such only tread this sacred floor, Who dare to love their country and be poor.
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Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies, And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise.
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For, as blushing will sometimes make a whore pass for a virtuous woman, so modesty may make a fool seem a man of sense.
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To be angry, is to revenge the fault of others upon ourselves.
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Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
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Say, is not absence death to those who love?