Alexander Pope

Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,- His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies.

As with narrow-necked bottles; the less they have in them, the more noise they make in pouring out.

I believe it is no wrong Observation, that Persons of Genius, and those who are most capable of Art, are always fond of Nature, as such are chiefly sensible, that all Art consists in the Imitation and Study of Nature. On the contrary, People of the common Level of Understanding are principally delighted with the Little Niceties and Fantastical Operations of Art, and constantly think that finest which is least Natural.

Here thou, great Anna! Whom three realms obey, / Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea.

Virtue alone is happiness below.

From Nature's chain whatever link you strike,_x000D_ Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.

Blest paper-credit! last and best supply! That lends corruption lighter wings to fly!

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!_x000D_ _x000D_ O grave! where is thy victory?_x000D_ _x000D_ O death! where is thy sting?

Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; Still by himself abused or disabused; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled,- The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.

Let such teach others who themselves excel, And censure freely who have written well.

No writing is good that does not tend to better mankind in some way or other.

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade. Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.

Whenever I find a great deal of gratitude in a poor man, I take it for granted there would be as much generosity if he were a rich man.

Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favors call; She comes unlooked for, if she comes at all .

To teach vain Wits that Science little known,_x000D_ _x000D_ T' admire Superior Sense, and doubt their own!

Lo! the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind_x000D_ _x000D_ Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;_x000D_ _x000D_ His soul proud Science never taught to stray_x000D_ _x000D_ Far as the solar walk or milky way.

Is that a birthday? 'tis, alas! too clear; 'Tis but the funeral of the former year.

A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.

True wit is nature to advantage dressed; _x000D_ What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.

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

Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate.