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Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
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
Maids
Lover
Aids
Heav
Lovers
Wretch
Letters
Banish
Taught
Captive
Firsts
Maid
First
Captives
More quotes by Alexander Pope
The heart resolves this matter in a trice, Men only feel the smart, but not the vice.
Alexander Pope
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan The proper study of mankind is man.
Alexander Pope
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?
Alexander Pope
To what base ends, and by what abject ways, Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!
Alexander Pope
Art still followed where Rome's eagles flew.
Alexander Pope
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
Wine lets no lover unrewarded go.
Alexander Pope
Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell aspiring to be angels men rebel.
Alexander Pope
Extremes in nature equal ends produce In man they join to some mysterious use.
Alexander Pope
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
A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age.
Alexander Pope
While I live, no rich or noble knave shall walk the world in credit to his grave.
Alexander Pope
I am satisfied to trifle away my time, rather than let it stick by me.
Alexander Pope
The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.
Alexander Pope
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.
Alexander Pope
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.
Alexander Pope
Happy the man whose wish and care a few paternal acres bound, content to breathe his native air in his own ground.
Alexander Pope
Nor Fame I slight, nor her favors call.
Alexander Pope
Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old age away . . . . To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint, Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint.
Alexander Pope
Nor in the critic let the man be lost.
Alexander Pope
