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That virtue only makes our bliss below, And all our knowledge is ourselves to know.

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
Bliss
Virtue
Knowledge
Makes

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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Every man has just as much vanity as he wants understanding.
Alexander Pope
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chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd.
Alexander Pope
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Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.
Alexander Pope
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Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit, There is no cure 'gainst age but it
Alexander Pope
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Tis strange the miser should his cares employTo gain those riches he can ne'er enjoyIs it less strange the prodigal should wasteHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
Alexander Pope
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Nature made every fop to plague his brother, Just as one beauty mortifies another.
Alexander Pope
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No more was seen the human form divine.
Alexander Pope
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A gen'rous heart repairs a sland'rous tongue.
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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Ladies, like variegated tulips, show 'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe.
Alexander Pope
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Monuments, like men, submit to fate.
Alexander Pope
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Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild In Wit a man Simplicity, a child.
Alexander Pope
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Is it, in Heav'n, a crime to love too well? To bear too tender or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reversion in the sky For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
Alexander Pope
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Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense weigh thy opinion against Providence.
Alexander Pope
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Of darkness visible so much be lent, as half to show, half veil, the deep intent.
Alexander Pope
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Learn to live well, or fairly make your will You've play'd, and lov'd, and ate, and drank your fill: Walk sober off, before a sprightlier age Comes titt'ring on, and shoves you from the stage.
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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No louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, When husbands or lap-dogs breathe their last.
Alexander Pope
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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.
Alexander Pope
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Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamtrous lapwings feel the leaden death Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
Alexander Pope