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Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell aspiring to be angels men rebel.

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
House
Rebel
Stills
Houses
Still
Angels
Best
Fell
Would
Gods
Men
God
Angel
Aiming
Pride
Aspiring

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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At present we can only reason of the divine justice from what we know of justice in man. When we are in other scenes, we may have truer and nobler ideas of it but while we are in this life, we can only speak from the volume that is laid open before us.
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Fine sense and exalted sense are not half so useful as common sense.
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Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows.
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Others import yet nobler arts from France, Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.
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What Tully said of war may be applied to disputing: It should be always so managed as to remember that the only true end of it is peace. But generally true disputants are like true sportsmen,--their whole delight is in the pursuit and the disputant no more cares for the truth than the sportsman for the hare.
Alexander Pope
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Who pants for glory, finds but short repose A breath revives him, or a breath o'erthrows.
Alexander Pope
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The Muse but serv'd to ease some friend, not wife, / To help me through this long disease, my life.
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A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
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Lo! the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind His soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way.
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Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood, Our greatest evil, or our greatest good.
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Not to go back is somewhat to advance, and men must walk, at least, before they dance.
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Who shall decide when doctors disagree, And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?
Alexander Pope
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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.
Alexander Pope
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And empty heads console with empty sound.
Alexander Pope
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Whate'er the talents, or howe'er designed, We hang one jingling padlock on the mind.
Alexander Pope
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What so pure, which envious tongues will spare? Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair, With matchless impudence they style a wife, The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, A night invasion, and a mid-day devil Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard, But curse the bones of ev'ry living bard.
Alexander Pope
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How happy is the blameless vestal's lot? The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Alexander Pope
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In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fixed, 'tis fixed as in a frost.
Alexander Pope
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Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast But shall the dignity of vice be lost?
Alexander Pope
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All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see All discord, harmony not understood All partial evil, universal good.
Alexander Pope