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Nay, fly to altars there they'll talk you dead For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

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
Fool
Dead
Tread
Talk
Altars
Fear
Foolishness
Rush
Fools
Angels
Angel

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True self-love and social are the same.
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It is sure the hardest science to forget!
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Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd, Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.
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The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won.
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Atheists put on false courage and alacrity in the midst of their darkness and apprehensions, like children who, when they fear to go in the dark, will sing for fear.
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He who serves his brother best gets nearer God than all the rest.
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To err is human to forgive, divine.
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Ah! why, ye Gods, should two and two make four?
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I am satisfied to trifle away my time, rather than let it stick by me.
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Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
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What will a child learn sooner than a song?
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A mighty maze! But not without a plan.
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What Conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do This teach me more than Hell to shun, That more than Heav'n pursue.
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Taste, that eternal wanderer, which flies From head to ears, and now from ears to eyes.
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Good God! how often are we to die before we go quite off this stage? In every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the best part.
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'Tis not enough your counsel still be true Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.
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Learn of the little nautilus to sail, Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
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The villain's censure is extorted praise.
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Chiefs who no more in bloody fights engage, But wise through time, and narrative with age, In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice - A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.
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And empty heads console with empty sound.
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