Alexander Pope Quotes

I never knew any man in my life who could not bear another's misfortunes perfectly like a Christian.

I think it was a generous thought, and one that fow'd from an exalted mind, that it was not improbable but God might be delighted with the various methods of worshipping him, which divided the whole world.

All forms that perish other forms supply,
(By turns we catch the vital breath and die)
Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne,
They rise, they break, and to that sea return.

The hungry Judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang that jury-men may dine; The merchant from th' Exchange returns in peace, And the long labours of the Toilet cease. Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites, 25 Burns to encounter two advent'rous Knights,

The stoic husband was the glorious thing.
The man had courage, was a sage, 'tis true,
And lov'd his country.

Thou Great First Cause, least understood Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good And that myself am blind.

chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd.

"One all-extending soul connects each being, greatest with the least; made beast in aid of man, and man in aid of beast; All served, all serving; nothing stands alone; the chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown".

How vast a memory has Love!

The flying Rumours gather'd as they roll'd, Scarce any Tale was sooner heard than told; And all who told it, added something new, And all who heard it, made Enlargements too, In ev'ry Ear it spread, on ev'ry Tongue it grew.

For the ancient poets are in one respect like many modern ladies: let an action be never so trivial in itself, they always make it appear of the utmost importance

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

What some call health, if purchased by perpetual anxiety about diet, isn't much better than tedious disease.

Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! Each stamps its image as the other flies!

Poetic justice, with her lifted scale,
Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs,
And solid pudding against empty praise.
Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep,
Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep,
Till genial Jacob, or a warm third day,
Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play:
How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie,
How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry.