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Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.

Alexander Pope

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Alexander Pope
Age: 56 †
Born: 1688
Born: May 21
Died: 1744
Died: May 30
Literary Historian
Poet
Translator
the City
Pope the Poet
Alexander I Pope
Alexander
I Pope
Quitting
Dies
Hope
Quits
Travels

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.
Alexander Pope
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Truth shines the brighter, clad in verse.
Alexander Pope
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Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
Alexander Pope
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It often happens that those are the best people whose characters have been most injured by slanderers: as we usually find that to be the sweetest fruit which the birds have been picking at.
Alexander Pope
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Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, With whom my muse began, with who shall end.
Alexander Pope
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A God without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but fate and nature.
Alexander Pope
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Who sees pale Mammom pine amidst his store, Sees but a backward steward for the poor.
Alexander Pope
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The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
Alexander Pope
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On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. Reasons the card, but passion the gale.
Alexander Pope
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Wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
Alexander Pope
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Unthought-of Frailties cheat us in the Wise.
Alexander Pope
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Wit is the lowest form of humor.
Alexander Pope
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Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.
Alexander Pope
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In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend.
Alexander Pope
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In faith and hope the world will disagree, but all mankind's concern is charity.
Alexander Pope
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Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Alexander Pope
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So vast is art, so narrow human wit.
Alexander Pope
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Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mixed with Gods, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand - the name appears Already written - wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeyes.
Alexander Pope
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Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
Alexander Pope
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A fly, a grape-stone, or a hair can kill.
Alexander Pope