Quotes from Alexander Pope

Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?" Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings, This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings; Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys, Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys

Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurled, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

One science only will one genius fit/ So vast is art, so narrow human wit

So pleas'd at first the tow'ring Alps we try, Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky; Th'eternal snows appear already past, And the first clouds and mountains seem the last: But those attain'd, we tremble to survey The growing labours of the lengthen'd way; Th'increasing prospect tires our wand'ring eyes, Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!

For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.

For when success a lover's toil attends, Few ask, if fraud or force attain'd his ends

What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than Hell to shun, That, more than Heaven pursue.

The fool is happy that he knows no more

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.

We may see the small Value God has for Riches, by the People he gives them to." [ Thoughts on Various Subjects , 1727]

In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell, Aspiring to be angels, men rebel.

Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear, with ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear...

Intrepid then, o'er seas and lands he flew: Europe he saw, and Europe saw him too.

If it be the chief point of friendship to comply with a friend's notions and inclinations he possesses this is an eminent degree; he lies down when I sit, and walks when I walk, which is more that many good friends can pretend to do.

Where beams of imagination play, The memory's soft figures melt away.

Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chased old age away; Who would not scorn what housewife's cares produce, Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?

Out with it, Dunciad: let the secret pass - That secret to each fool - that he's an ass. The truth once told (and whereby should we lie?), The queen of Midas slept, and so may I. You think this cruel? Take it for a rule, No creature smarts so little as a fool.

Some valuing those of their own side or mind, Still make themselves the measure of mankind; Fondly we think we honour merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.

All this dread order break- for whom? for thee? Vile worm!- oh madness! pride! impiety!

How happy he, who free from care The rage of courts, and noise of towns; Contented breathes his native air, In his own grounds

Sure flattery never traveled so far as three thousand miles; it is now only for truth, which over takes all things, to reach you at this distance.

Why charge we Heav'n in those, in these acquit? In both, to reason right is to submit.

Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll, In pleasing memory of all he stole.