Alexander Pope Quotes
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For forms of faith let graceless zealots fight; his can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
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Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
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Good God! how often are we to die before we go quite off this stage? In every friend we lose a part of ourselves, and the best part.
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Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd, Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd.
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Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.
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But just disease to luxury succeeds, And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds.
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A king is a mortal god on earth, unto whom the living God hath lent his own name as a great honour; but withal told him, he should die like a man, lest he should be proud, and flatter himself that God hath with his name imparted unto him his nature also. JOHN LOCKE, "Of a King", The Conduct of the Understanding: Essays, Moral, Economical, and Political A king may be a tool, a thing of straw; but if he serves to frighten our enemies, and secure our property, it is well enough: a scarecrow is a thing of straw, but it protects the corn.
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Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
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One science only will one genius fit; so vast is art, so narrow human wit.
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But if you'll prosper, mark what I advise, Whom age, and long experience render wise.
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The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole Can never be a mouse of any soul.
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Sleep and death, two twins of winged race, Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace.
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Truth shines the brighter, clad in verse.
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And more than echoes talk along the walls.
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A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age.
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Nature and nature's laws lay hid in the night. God said, Let Newton be! and all was light!
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On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.
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Get place and wealth, if possible with grace; if not, by any means get wealth and place.
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Great oaks grow from little acorns. He has a green thumb. He has green fingers. He's sowing his wild oats. Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.
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In adamantine chains shall Death be bound, And Hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
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Our plenteous streams a various race supply, The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, The silver eel, in shining volumes roll'd, The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with gold, Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, And pikes, the tyrants of the wat'ry plains.
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Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
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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.
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What is it to be wise? 'Tis but to know how little can be known, To see all others' faults, and feel our own.
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When rumours increase, and when there is an abundance of noise and clamour, believe the second report.
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All Nature is but art, unknown to thee All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good.
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Old politicians chew on wisdom past, And totter on in business to the last.
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Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
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The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! Feels at each thread, and lives along the line.
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A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.
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