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Drink is the feast of reason and the flow of soul.

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
Flow
Drink
Soul
Reason
Feast
Alcohol
Drinking
Wine

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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All looks yellow to a jaundiced eye that habitually compares everything to something better. But by changing that habit to comparing everything to something worse, even making it a game, that person can find gratitude, relief and happiness where-ever they go and whatever they experience, guaranteed!
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Oh! be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long pleasure-and a friend.
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Genius creates, and taste preserves. Taste is the good sense of genius without taste, genius is only sublime folly.
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Search then the ruling passion there alone, The wild are constant, and the cunning known The fool consistent, and the false sincere Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.
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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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Our grandsire, Adam, ere of Eve possesst, Alone, and e'en in Paradise unblest, With mournful looks the blissful scenes survey'd, And wander'd in the solitary shade. The Maker say, took pity, and bestow'd Woman, the last, the best reserv'd of God.
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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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I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
Alexander Pope
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Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide: If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all.
Alexander Pope
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I was not born for courts and great affairs, but I pay my debts, believe and say my prayers.
Alexander Pope
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Is that a birthday? 'tis, alas! too clear 'Tis but the funeral of the former year.
Alexander Pope
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Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade. Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Alexander Pope
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Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.
Alexander Pope
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But touch me, and no minister so sore. Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme, Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, And the sad burthen of some merry song.
Alexander Pope
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The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd
Alexander Pope
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A man of business may talk of philosophy a man who has none may practice it.
Alexander Pope
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Blest paper-credit! last and best supply! That lends corruption lighter wings to fly!
Alexander Pope
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Curse on all laws but those which love has made.
Alexander Pope
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Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise?
Alexander Pope
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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.
Alexander Pope