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Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,- His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies.

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
Wisely
Reason
Brave
Bravery
Like
Lies
Dread
Therefore
Pride
Combat
Combats
Wise
Reasoning
Dreads
Acting
Bed
Meanest
Lying
Reasons
Bravely
Death
Slave

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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The bookful blockhead ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head, With his own tongue still edifies his ears, And always list'ning to himself appears. All books he reads, and all he reads assails.
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Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old.
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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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The blest to-day is as completely so, As who began a thousand years ago.
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See the wild Waste of all-devouring years! How Rome her own sad Sepulchre appears, With nodding arches, broken temples spread! The very Tombs now vanish'd like their dead!
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How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
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Fly, dotard, fly! With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.
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The ruling passion, be it what it will. The ruling passion conquers reason still.
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Why did I write? What sin to me unknown dipped me in ink, my parents , or my own?
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I am satisfied to trifle away my time, rather than let it stick by me.
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With too much quickness ever to be taught With too much thinking to have common thought.
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Whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally.
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The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
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Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise. By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies? Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
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Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd, Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.
Alexander Pope
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Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe, Are lost on hearers that our merits know.
Alexander Pope
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He who serves his brother best gets nearer God than all the rest.
Alexander Pope
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Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, Those call it pleasure, and contentment these.
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Some praise at morning what they blame at night, but always think the last opinion right.
Alexander Pope
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Whether with Reason, or with Instinct blest, Know, all enjoy that pow'r which suits them best.
Alexander Pope