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The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won.

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
Race
Success
Vaunt
Vigour

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
Alexander Pope
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Pleas'd look forward, pleas'd to look behind,And count each birthday with a grateful mind.
Alexander Pope
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Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.
Alexander Pope
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Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
Alexander Pope
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Fools admire, but men of sense approve.
Alexander Pope
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Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate.
Alexander Pope
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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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Avoid Extremes and shun the fault of such Who still are pleas'd too little or too much.
Alexander Pope
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The heart resolves this matter in a trice, Men only feel the smart, but not the vice.
Alexander Pope
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Talk what you will of taste, my friend, you'll find two of a face as soon as of a mind.
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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chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd.
Alexander Pope
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The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.
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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To happy convents, bosomed deep in vines, Where slumber abbots, purple as their wines.
Alexander Pope
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Count all th' advantage prosperous Vice attains, 'Tis but what Virtue flies from and disdains: And grant the bad what happiness they would, One they must want--which is, to pass for good.
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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The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
Alexander Pope
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So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part, Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
Alexander Pope
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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