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I begin where most people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all sorts of ambition, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human pleasures.

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
Sorts
Ends
Pleasures
Human
Emptiness
Humans
Conviction
People
Ambition
Begin
Full
Pleasure
Unsatisfactory

More quotes by Alexander Pope

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On wings of wind came flying all abroad.
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All nature is but art unknown to thee.
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But blind to former as to future fate, what mortal knows his pre-existent state?
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Consult the Genius of the Place in all.
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Not always actions show the man we find who does a kindness is not therefore kind.
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Whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally.
Alexander Pope
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I think a good deal may be said to extenuate the fault of bad Poets. What we call a Genius, is hard to be distinguish'd by a man himself, from a strong inclination: and if his genius be ever so great, he can not at first discover it any other way, than by giving way to that prevalent propensity which renders him the more liable to be mistaken.
Alexander Pope
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Only music has the ability to take you to the edge of reality and allow you to peek in for a moment.
Alexander Pope
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Whether with Reason, or with Instinct blest, Know, all enjoy that pow'r which suits them best.
Alexander Pope
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Man never thinks himself happy, but when he enjoys those things which others want or desire.
Alexander Pope
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A youth of frolic, an old age of cards.
Alexander Pope
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Placed on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise and rudely great... He hangs between in doubt to act or rest In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast In doubt his mind or body to prefer Born to die, and reasoning but to err.
Alexander Pope
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Trade it may help, society extend, But lures the Pirate, ant corrupts the friend: It raises armies in a nation's aid, But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd.
Alexander Pope
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Tis true, 'tis certain man, though dead, retains Part of himself the immortal mind remains.
Alexander Pope
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Sole judge of Truth, in endless Error hurled: / The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Alexander Pope
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Give me again my hollow tree A crust of bread, and liberty!
Alexander Pope
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Why did I write? whose sin to me unknown Dipt me in ink, my parents', or my own? As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.
Alexander Pope
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Whether the darken'd room to muse invite, Or whiten'd wall provoke the skew'r to write In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint, Like Lee or Budgel I will rhyme and print.
Alexander Pope
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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.
Alexander Pope
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The laughers are a majority.
Alexander Pope