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I as little fear that God will damn a man that has charity, as I hope that the priests can save one who has not.

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
Hope
Fear
Littles
Persons
Little
Priests
Giving
Damn
Charity
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More quotes by Alexander Pope

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O Love! for Sylvia let me gain the prize, And make my tongue victorious as her eyes.
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Here thou, great Anna! Whom three realms obey, / Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea.
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But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat, The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat, To closer shades the panting flocks remove Ye gods! And is there no relief for love?
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And die of nothing but a rage to live.
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The approach of night The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.
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In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?
Alexander Pope
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Who are next to knaves? Those that converse with them.
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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Who builds a church to God and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name.
Alexander Pope
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Envy will merit, as its shade, pursue
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The way of the Creative works through change and transformation, so that each thing receives its true nature and destiny and comes into permanent accord with the Great Harmony: this is what furthers and what perseveres.
Alexander Pope
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A perfect Judge will read each work of Wit With the same spirit that its author writ: Survey the Whole, nor seek slight faults to find Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind.
Alexander Pope
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One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight.
Alexander Pope
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Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mixed with Gods, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand - the name appears Already written - wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeyes.
Alexander Pope
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The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleas'd to the last he crops the flow'ry food, And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
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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What nature wants, commodious gold bestows 'Tis thus we cut the bread another sows.
Alexander Pope
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Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain awake but one, and in, what myriads rise!
Alexander Pope
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A perfect woman's but a softer man.
Alexander Pope
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That each from other differs, first confess next that he varies from himself no less.
Alexander Pope