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Leave not a foot of verse, a foot of stone, A Page, a Grave, that they can call their own But spread, my sons, your glory thin or thick, On passive paper, or on solid brick.
Alexander Pope
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Alexander Pope
Age: 56 †
Born: 1688
Born: May 21
Died: 1744
Died: May 30
Literary Historian
Poet
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the City
Pope the Poet
Alexander I Pope
Alexander
I Pope
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Leave
Stone
Sons
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Page
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Call
Spread
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Son
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More quotes by Alexander Pope
See! From the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings Short is his joy! He feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
Alexander Pope
Ladies, like variegated tulips, show 'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe.
Alexander Pope
Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
Alexander Pope
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd and make the learned smile.
Alexander Pope
A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
Alexander Pope
Expression is the dress of thought, and still Appears more decent as more suitable A vile conceit in pompous words express'd, Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd.
Alexander Pope
Every woman is at heart a rake.
Alexander Pope
Wholesome solitude, the nurse of sense!
Alexander Pope
Education forms the common mind.
Alexander Pope
Music resembles poetry, in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, And which a master hand alone can reach.
Alexander Pope
The difference is too nice - Where ends the virtue or begins the vice.
Alexander Pope
Then sculpture and her sister arts revived stones leaped to form, and rocks began to live.
Alexander Pope
Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always To be Blest.
Alexander Pope
To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves.
Alexander Pope
Fear not the anger of the wise to raise Those best can bear reproof who merit praise.
Alexander Pope
In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies All quit their sphere and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the bless'd abodes, Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Alexander Pope
Be thou the first true merit to befriend, his praise is lost who stays till all commend.
Alexander Pope
Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing, Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove, Say, is not absence death to those who love?
Alexander Pope
What then remains, but well our power to use, And keep good-humor still whate'er we lose? And trust me, dear, good-humor can prevail, When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail.
Alexander Pope
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things To low ambition and the pride of kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us, and to die) Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man A mighty maze! but not without a plan.
Alexander Pope