Quotes from Alexander Pope

Tis use alone that sanctifies expense And splendor borrows all her rays from sense.

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".

A prudent chief not always must display His pow'rs in equal ranks, and fair array, But with th' occasion and the place comply, Conceal his force, nay seem sometimes to fly.

To err is human; to forgive divine. Alexander Pope" Excerpt From: Moriarty, Liane. "The Husband's Secret.

In ev'ry work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.

What then remains, but well our power to use, And keep good humour still whate'er we lose? And trust me, dear, good humour can prevail, When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail. Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul

But why insult the poor, affront the great?' A knave's a knave, to me, in every state.

A perfect judge will read each work of wit With the same spirit that its author writ

Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue, But like a shadow, proves the substance true; For envied wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known Th' opposing body's grossness, not its own.

So when the faithful pencil has design'd Some bright idea of the master's mind, Where a new world leaps out at his command, And ready Nature waits upon his hand; When the ripe colours soften and unite, And sweetly melt into just shade and light; When mellowing years their full perfection give, And each bold figure just begins to live, The treacherous colours the fair art betray, And all the bright creation fades away!

Let such teach others who themselves excel

Good nature and good sense must ever join; To err is human; to forgive, divine.

Authors are partial to their wit

By false learning is good sense defaced

In search of wit these lose their common sense

Half-learn'd witlings

Launch not beyond your depth

So vast is art, so narrow human wit

But now secure the painted vessel glides,   The sun-beams trembling on the floating tides:   While melting music steals upon the sky,   And soften'd sounds along the waters die; 50   Smooth flow the waves, the Zephyrs gently play,   Belinda smil'd, and all the world was gay.

Fear not the anger of the wise to raise; Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.

To shoot is human, to make your own bullets is divine. Let's be honest, we were all beginners at one point or another.

Most critics, fond of subservient art still make the whole depend upon a part. They talk of principles, but notions prize And all to one loved folly sacrifice.

But you with pleasure own your errors past, And make each day a critique on the last.

Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me. (from The Universal Prayer)