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Praise is like ambergrease: a little whiff of it, and by snatches, is very agreeable but when a man holds a whole lump of it to your nose, it is a stink, and strikes you down.

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
Strikes
Whiff
Praise
Lump
Littles
Lumps
Little
Agreeable
Whole
Stink
Men
Nose
Like
Noses
Holds
Snatches

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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Court-virtues bear, like gems, the highest rate, Born where Heav'n influence scarce can penetrate. In life's low vale, the soil the virtues like, They please as beauties, here as wonders strike.
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That virtue only makes our bliss below, And all our knowledge is ourselves to know.
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Wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense!
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See plastic Nature working to this end, The single atoms each to other tend, Attract, attracted to, the next in place Form'd and impell'd its neighbor to embrace.
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Live like yourself, was soon my lady's word, And lo! two puddings smok'd upon the board.
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Health consists with temperance alone.
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When rumours increase, and when there is an abundance of noise and clamour, believe the second report.
Alexander Pope
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Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, For sober, studious days!
Alexander Pope
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At present we can only reason of the divine justice from what we know of justice in man. When we are in other scenes, we may have truer and nobler ideas of it but while we are in this life, we can only speak from the volume that is laid open before us.
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Lo! The poor Indian, whose untutored mind sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.
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A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.
Alexander Pope
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Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always To be Blest.
Alexander Pope
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Virtue alone is happiness below.
Alexander Pope
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Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.
Alexander Pope
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Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!
Alexander Pope
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The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712) -Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Stanza 1.
Alexander Pope
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Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rusticity.
Alexander Pope
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The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.
Alexander Pope
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As some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, Though oft the ear the open vowels tire While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.
Alexander Pope
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The dull flat falsehood serves for policy, and in the cunning, truth's itself a lie.
Alexander Pope