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Do you find yourself making excuses when you do not perform? Shed the excuses and face reality. Excuses are the loser's way out. They will mar your credibility and stunt your personal growth.

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
Faces
Mars
Making
Loser
Reality
Shed
Find
Perform
Way
Excuse
Growth
Stunt
Personal
Excuses
Face
Credibility

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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For he lives twice who can at once employ, The present well, and e'en the past enjoy.
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Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
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Whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally.
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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.
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Ask you what provocation I have had? The strong antipathy of good to bad.
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Woman's at best a contradiction still.
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A fly, a grape-stone, or a hair can kill.
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One self-approving hour whole years outweighs.
Alexander Pope
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Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise.
Alexander Pope
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For wit and judgment often are at strife, Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
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Be thou the first true merit to befriend, his praise is lost who stays till all commend.
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Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
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Jarring interests of themselves create the according music of a well-mixed state.
Alexander Pope
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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
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The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole Can never be a mouse of any soul.
Alexander Pope
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The greatest magnifying glasses in the world are a man's own eyes when they look upon his own person.
Alexander Pope
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Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame, Still pleased to praise, yet not afraid to blame, Averse alike to flatter or offend, Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.
Alexander Pope
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A youth of frolic, an old age of cards.
Alexander Pope
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Then, at the last and only couplet fraught With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.
Alexander Pope
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Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.
Alexander Pope