Quote

Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine, Earth for whose use? Pride answers, 'Tis for mine For me kind nature wakes her genial power, Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flower.

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
Nature
Mines
Spreads
Ends
Mine
Wakes
Power
Flower
Herbs
Earth
Pride
Shine
Body
Whose
Heavenly
Every
Answers
Bodies
Kind
Asks
Shining
Genial
Use
Spread
Herb

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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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.
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The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
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How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
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This long disease, my life.
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Some have at first for wits, then poets passed, Turned critics next, and proved plain fools at last.
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Fickle Fortune reigns, and, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.
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Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore full well they merit all they feel, and more: unaw by precepts, human or divine, like birds and beasts, promiscuously they join.
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To balance Fortune by a just expense, Join with Economy, Magnificence.
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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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A man of business may talk of philosophy a man who has none may practice it.
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For lo! the board with cups and spoons is crowned.The berries crackle, and the mill turns round ... At once they gratify their scent and taste.And frequent cups prolong the rich repast... Coffee (which makes the politician wise And see through all things with his half-shut eyes).
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The greatest magnifying glasses in the world are a man's own eyes when they look upon his own person.
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Wit is the lowest form of humor.
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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.
Alexander Pope
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On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, Reason the card, but passion is the gale Nor God alone in the still calm we find, He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.
Alexander Pope
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In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?
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Our plenteous streams a various race supply, The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd, The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold, Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, And pikes, the tyrants of the wat'ry plains.
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Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove? Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings? Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings?
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He who serves his brother best gets nearer God than all the rest.
Alexander Pope
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In lazy apathy let stoics boast, their virtue fixed, 'tis fixed as in a frost.
Alexander Pope