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

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
Mind
Hears
Indian
Sees
Clouds
God
Whose
Wind
Poor
Untutored

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild In Wit a man Simplicity, a child.
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Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes: the glorious fault of angels and of gods.
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The way of the Creative works through change and transformation, so that each thing receives its true nature and destiny and comes into permanent accord with the Great Harmony: this is what furthers and what perseveres.
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Let fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, so long as she never makes us lose our honesty and our independence.
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What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things.
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Say first, of god above or man below what can we reason but from what we know.
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Women use lovers as they do cards they play with them a while, and when they have got all they can by them, throw them away, call for new ones, and then perhaps lose by the new all they got by the old ones.
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Get your enemy to read your works in order to mend them, for your friend is so much your second self that he will judge too like you.
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What is it to be wise? 'Tis but to know how little can be known, To see all others' faults, and feel our own.
Alexander Pope
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Virtue alone is happiness below.
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Cavil you may, but never criticise.
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The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy.
Alexander Pope
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O let us still the secret joy partake, To follow virtue even for virtue's sake.
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See! From the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings Short is his joy! He feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
Alexander Pope
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Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
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Sole judge of Truth, in endless Error hurled: / The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Alexander Pope
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With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?-She wants a heart.
Alexander Pope
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Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove? Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings? Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings?
Alexander Pope
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Offend her, and she knows not to forgive Oblige her, and she'll hate you while you live.
Alexander Pope
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But see how oft ambition's aims are cross'd, and chiefs contend 'til all the prize is lost!
Alexander Pope