Quotes from Alexander Pope

Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.

A man of business may talk of philosophy; a man who has none may practice it.

A man of business may talk of philosophy a man who has none may practise it.

Music resembles poetry, in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master hand alone can reach.

For what I have publish'd, I can only hope to be pardon'd; but for what I have burned, I deserve to be prais'd.

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart

Pretty conceptions, fine metaphors, glittering expressions, and something of a neat cast of verse are properly the dress, gems, or loose ornaments of poetry.

Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix, Of crooked counsels and dark politics.

For forms of Government let fools contest. Whate'er is best administered is best.

Party-spirit . . . which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.

The most positive men are the most credulous, since they most believe themselves, and advise most with their falsest flatterer and worst enemy--their own self-love.

All seems infected that the infected spy as all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.

Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.

An atheist is but a mad, ridiculous derider of piety, but a hypocrite makes a sober jest of God and religion; he finds it easier to be upon his knees than to rise to a good action.

I as little fear that God will damn a man that has charity, as I hope that the priests can save one who has not.

Vast chain of being! which from God began, Natures ethereal, human, angel, man, Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see, No glass can reach, from infinite to Thee, From Thee to nothing.

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

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.

The people's voice is odd, It is, and it is not, the voice of God.

Who builds a church to God and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name.

The good must merit God's peculiar care; But who but God can tell us who they are?

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher, Death, and God adore; What future bliss He gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.

To Him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, He bounds, connects and equals all!