Quotes
Quotes - Pope
On life's vast ocean diversely we sail,
Reason the card, but passion is the gale.
And hence one master-passion in the breast,
Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.
The young disease, that must subdue at length,
Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
Extremes in nature equal ends produce;
In man they join to some mysterious use.
Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Ask where's the North? At York 't is on the Tweed;
In Scotland at the Orcades; and there,
At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.
Virtuous and vicious every man must be,--
Few in the extreme, but all in the degree.
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite;
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age.
Pleased with this bauble still, as that before,
Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!"
"See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose.
Learn of the little nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale.
The enormous faith of many made for one.
For forms of government let fools contest;
Whate'er is best administer'd is best.
For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
In faith and hope the world will disagree,
But all mankind's concern is charity.
O happiness! our being's end and aim!
Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name:
That something still which prompts the eternal sigh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die.
Order is Heaven's first law.
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
Lie in three words,--health, peace, and competence.
The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy.
Honour and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather or prunello.
What can ennoble sots or slaves or cowards?
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;
An honest man's the noblest work of God.
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.
In parts superior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
'T is but to know how little can be known;
To see all others' faults, and feel our own.
Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd,
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind!
Or ravish'd with the whistling of a name,
See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame!
Know then this truth (enough for man to know),--
"Virtue alone is happiness below."
