Quotes from Alexander Pope

Thee too, my Paridel! she mark'd thee there, Stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair, And heard thy everlasting yawn confess The Pains and Penalties of Idleness.

So Man, who here seems principal alone, Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown. Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal, 'This but a part we see, and not a whole.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.

While, from the bounded level of our mind, Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind; But more advanced, behold, with strange surprise, New distant scenes of endless science rise!

Tak ucz ludzi, jak by? nie uczy? ich wcale. Lecz przypomina? rzeczy znane im doskonale.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast

Çdo krijesë që thahet, ushqim bëhet për të tjerë, Jeta dhuron frymën, që vdekja e merr Si shkumë deti prej materies sajuar, Lindin, copëtohen e kthehen në valë, me detin për tu përqafuar.

A little learning is a dangerous thing; / Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.

Honor and shame from no condition rise. Act well your part: there all the honor lies.

The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare?   For this your locks in paper durance bound,   For this with tort'ring irons wreath'd around? 100   For this with fillets strain'd your tender head,   And bravely bore the double loads of lead?

Honour forbid! at whose unrivall'd shrine 105   Ease, pleasure, virtue, all our sex resign.   Methinks already I your tears survey,   Already hear the horrid things they say,   Already see you a degraded toast,   And all your honour in a whisper lost! 110   How shall I, then, your helpless fame

A Lumberhouse of books in ev'ry head, For ever reading, never to be read.

Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss

Z—ds! damn the lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil!   Plague on't!'t is past a jest—nay prithee, pox!   Give her the hair"—he spoke, and rapp'd his box.

Some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.

Be not the first by whom the new are tired, nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

One science only will one genius fit

Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget! How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?

I am his Highness' dog at Kew; Pray tell me sir, whose dog are you?

Praise undeserved is satire in disguise/

In vain may heroes fight and patriots rave if secret gold sap on from knave to knave.

Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.

To err is human, to forgive, divine.