Alexander Pope Quotes
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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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Some old men, by continually praising the time of their youth, would almost persuade us that there were no fools in those days; but unluckily they are left themselves for examples.
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I find myself just in the same situation of mind you describe as your own, heartily wishing the good, that is the quiet of my country, and hoping a total end of all the unhappy divisions of mankind by party-spirit, which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.
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Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.
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Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies, And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise.
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Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd, But as the world, harmoniously confus'd, Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree.
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The world recedes; it disappears! Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring! Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?
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True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
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Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
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Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes; The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods.
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Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began A mighty hunter, and his prey was man.
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They dream in Courtship, but in Wedlock wake.
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Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown; O grant an honest fame, or grant me none!
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There, take (says Justice), take ye each a shell: We thrive at Westminster on fools like you; 'T was a fat oyster,-live in peace,-adieu.
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The garlands fade, the vows are worn away; So dies her love, and so my hopes decay.
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Each finding like a friendSomething to blame, and something to commend.
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Say, is not absence death to those who love?
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The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole Can never be a mouse of any soul.
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Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away!
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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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Know, sense, like charity, begins at home.
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They shift the moving toyshop of their heart.
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold: For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage.
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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.'