Quotes
Quotes - Pope
Lely on animated canvas stole The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul.
Party is the madness of many, for the gains of a few.
Search then the ruling passion; there alone, The wild are constant, and the cunning known; The fool consistent, and the false sincere; Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.
And you, brave Cobham! to the latest breath Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death.
In men, we various ruling passions find; In women two almost divide the kind; Those only fix'd, they first or last obey. The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.
The ruling passion, be it what it will, The ruling passion conquers reason still.
May I govern my passions with absolute sway, And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away.
See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings: Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll, In pleasing memory of all he stole; How here he sipp'd, how there he plunder'd snug, And suck'd all o'er like an industrious bug.
With him most authors steal their works, or buy; Garth did not write his own Dispensary.
Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Line after line my gushing eye o'erflow, Led thro' a said variety of woe: Now warm in love, now with'ring in my bloom, Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
Solid pudding against empty praise.
To what base ends, and by what abject ways, Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!
Praise undeserved is scandal in disguise.
What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
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.
Thus unlamented pass the proud away, The gaze of fools and pageant of a day; So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe.
I'll print it, And shame the fools.
Not to go back is somewhat to advance, and men must walk, at least, before they dance.
Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust, Yet cry, if man's unhappy, God's unjust.
Who finds not Providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies.
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees.
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
