Alexander Pope Quotes

Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.

Trust not yourself, but your defects to know, make use of every friend and every foe.

The bookful blockhead, ignorantly read, With loads of learned lumber in his head.

To observations which ourselves we make, we grow more partial for th‘ observer’s sake.

Remembrance and reflection how allied. What thin partitions divides sense from thought.

So vast is art, so narrow human wit.

But blind to former as to future fate, what mortal knows his pre-existent state?

The learned is happy, nature to explore; The fool is happy, that he knows no more.

Not to go back is somewhat to advance, and men must walk, at least, before they dance.

The difference is too nice – Where ends the virtue or begins the vice.

They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake.

Man never thinks himself happy, but when he enjoys those things which others want or desire.

Wit is the lowest form of humor.

The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.

Education forms the common mind. Just as the twig is bent, the tree’s inclined.

How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, and love the offender, yet detest the offence?

The worst of madmen is a saint run mad.

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, as those move easiest who have learn’d to dance.

I find myself hoping a total end of all the unhappy divisions of mankind by party-spirit, which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.

Nature and nature’s laws lay hid in the night. God said, Let Newton be! and all was light!

And, after all, what is a lie? ‚Tis but the truth in a masquerade.

Passions are the gales of life.

True politeness consists in being easy one’s self, and in making every one about one as easy as one can.

For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, His can’t be wrong whose life is in the right.

Extremes in nature equal ends produce; In man they join to some mysterious use.

Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around!

At ev’ry word a reputation dies.

The way of the Creative works through change and transformation, so that each thing receives its true nature and destiny and comes into permanent accord with the Great Harmony: this is what furthers and what perseveres.

Some old men, continually praise the time of their youth. In fact, you would almost think that there were no fools in their days, but unluckily they themselves are left as an example.

Men would be angels, angels would be gods.

Gentle dullness ever loves a joke.

A person who is too nice an observer of the business of the crowd, like one who is too curious in observing the labor of bees, will often be stung for his curiosity.

And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it, made enlargements too.

Order is heaven’s first law.

If a man’s character is to be abused there’s nobody like a relative to do the business.

All nature is but art unknown to thee.

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man.

Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; awake but one, and in, what myriads rise!

A God without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but fate and nature.

Fondly we think we honor merit then, When we but praise ourselves in other men.

Many men have been capable of doing a wise thing, more a cunning thing, but very few a generous thing.

Our passions are like convulsion fits, which, though they make us stronger for a time, leave us the weaker ever after.

Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.

Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.

Pride is still aiming at the best houses: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell; aspiring to be angels men rebel.

How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!

Like Cato, give his little senate laws, and sit attentive to his own applause.

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

No woman ever hates a man for being in love with her, but many a woman hate a man for being a friend to her.

Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise.

No one should be ashamed to admit he is wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.

On life’s vast ocean diversely we sail. Reasons the card, but passion the gale.

For Forms of Government let fools contest; whatever is best administered is best.

A cherub’s face, a reptile all the rest.

Never was it given to mortal man – To lie so boldly as we women can.

To be angry is to revenge the faults of others on ourselves.

The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest.

Party-spirit at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.