Alexander Pope Quotes
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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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Such were the notes thy once lov'd poet sung, Till death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue.
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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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Each finding like a friendSomething to blame, and something to commend.
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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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So unaffected, so compos'd a mind; So firm, yet soft; so strong, yet so retin'd; Heav'n, as its purest gold, by tortures try'd; The saint sustain'd it, but the woman died.
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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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Is it, in Heav'n, a crime to love too well? To bear too tender, or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reversion in the sky, For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
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Dear, damned, distracting town, farewell! Thy fools no more I'll tease: This year in peace, ye critics, dwell, Ye harlots, sleep at ease!
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Ignobly vain, and impotently great.
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Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear.
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Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died.
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And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances and the public show.
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The stoic husband was the glorious thing.The man had courage, was a sage, 'tis true,And lov'd his country.
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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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If I am right, Thy grace import Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh teach my heart To find that better way!
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On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
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Now lap-dogs give themselves the rousing shake, And sleepless lovers, just at twelve, awake.
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Party is the madness of many, for the gain of a few.
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A person who is too nice an observer of the business of the crowd, like one who is too curious in observing the labour of the bees, will often be stung for his curiosity.
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Nothing can be more shocking and horrid than one of our kitchens sprinkled with blood, and abounding with the cries of expiring victims, or with the limbs of dead animals scattered or hung up here and there. It gives one the image of a giant's den in a romance, bestrewed with scattered heads and mangled limbs.
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To err is human, to forgive divine.
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I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.