Quote

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

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgement, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is PRIDE, the never-failing vice of fools.
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Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
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Sure of their qualities and demanding praise, more go to ruined fortunes than are raised.
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To dazzle let the vain design, To raise the thought and touch the heart, be thine!
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See how the World its Veterans rewards! A Youth of Frolics, an old Age of Cards Fair to no purpose, artful to no end, Young without Lovers, old without a Friend A Fop their Passion, but their Prize a Sot Alive ridiculous, and dead forgot.
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I was not born for courts and great affairs, but I pay my debts, believe and say my prayers.
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A disputant no more cares for the truth than the sportsman for the hare.
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For forms of government, let fools contest Whate'er is best administered, is best.
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart
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There are some solitary wretches who seem to have left the rest of mankind, only, as Eve left Adam, to meet the devil in private.
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Words are like Leaves and where they most abound, Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.
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These riches are possess'd, but not enjoy'd!
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All chance, direction, which thou canst not see
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Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
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Let fortune do her worst, whatever she makes us lose, so long as she never makes us lose our honesty and our independence.
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At every trifle take offense, that always shows great pride or little sense.
Alexander Pope
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The enormous faith of many made for one.
Alexander Pope
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O let us still the secret joy partake, To follow virtue even for virtue's sake.
Alexander Pope
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Chaos of thought and passion, all confused Still by himself abused or disabused Created half to rise, and half to fall Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled,- The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.
Alexander Pope
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What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
Alexander Pope