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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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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
Culture
Agriculture
Toil
Soil
Vain
Blame
Ought
Grows

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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The lot of man - to suffer and to die.
Alexander Pope
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Fly, dotard, fly! With thy wise dreams and fables of the sky.
Alexander Pope
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A pear-tree planted nigh: 'Twas charg'd with fruit that made a goodly show, And hung with dangling pears was every bough.
Alexander Pope
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Nothing can be more shocking and horrid than one of our kitchens sprinkled with blood, and abounding with the cries of expiring victims or with the limbs of dead animals scattered or hung up here and there.
Alexander Pope
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One science only will one genius fit so vast is art, so narrow human wit.
Alexander Pope
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For what I have publish'd, I can only hope to be pardon'd but for what I have burned, I deserve to be prais'd.
Alexander Pope
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No woman ever hates a man for being in love with her, but many a woman hate a man for being a friend to her.
Alexander Pope
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Fine sense and exalted sense are not half so useful as common sense. There are forty men of wit for one man of sense and he that will carry nothing about him but gold, will be every day at a loss for want of readier change.
Alexander Pope
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A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.
Alexander Pope
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A little learning is a dangerous thing drink of it deeply, or taste it not, for shallow thoughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking deeply sobers us again.
Alexander Pope
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And you, my Critics! in the chequer'd shade, Admire new light thro' holes yourselves have made.
Alexander Pope
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Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rusticity.
Alexander Pope
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A disputant no more cares for the truth than the sportsman for the hare.
Alexander Pope
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Words are like Leaves and where they most abound, Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.
Alexander Pope
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And each blasphemer quite escape the rod, Because the insult's not on man, but God?
Alexander Pope
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He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
Alexander Pope
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each Seene, and be what they behold: For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage.
Alexander Pope
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Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are fluttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack And leave your friends and go. O never fear, lads, naught's to dread, Look not to left nor right: In all the endless road you tread There's nothing but the night.
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!
Alexander Pope
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By flatterers besieged And so obliging that he ne'er obliged.
Alexander Pope