Quotes
Quotes - Pope
The hog that ploughs not, not obeys thy call, Lives on the labours of this lord of all.
Never elated while one man's oppress'd; Never dejected while another's blessed.
Th' embroider'd suit at least he deem'd his prey; That suit an unpaid tailor snatched away.
Here, thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey, Dost sometimes counsel take--and sometimes tea.
But Satan now is wiser than of yore, And tempts by making rich, not making poor.
. . . th' approach of night The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.
And not a vanity is given in vain.
Here files of pins extend their shining rows, Puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux.
Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast; But shall the dignity of vice be lost?
Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As to be hated need but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
The heart resolves this matter in a trice, "Men only feel the smart, but not the vice."
We conquered France, but felt our captive's charms, Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our arms.
But if We have such another victory, we are undone.
Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix, Of crooked counsels and dark politics.
Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme, The air-built castle, and the golden dream, The maid's romantic wish, the chemist's flame, And poet's vision of eternal fame.
To endeavor to work upon the vulgar with fine sense is like attempting to hew blocks with a razor.
Heaven forming each on other to depend, A master, or a servant, or a friend, Bids each on other for assistance call, Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all.
Fine by defect, and delicately weak.
Get place and wealth, if possible, with grace; If not, by any means get wealth and place.
What riches give us let us then inquire: Meat, fire, and clothes. What more? Meat, clothes, and fire. Is this too little?
Wealth is the product of man's capacity to think.
Destroy his fib, or sophistry--in vain! The creature's at his dirty work again.
And binding nature fast in fate, Left free the human will.
But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews; Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse; Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay, Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
If I live to grow old, as I find I go down, Let this be my fate in a country town; May I have a warm house, with a stone at my gate, And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate. May I govern my passions with an absolute sway, Grow wiser and better as my strength wears away, Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay. - Walter Pope, The Old Man's Wish,
