1,083 Quotes by Alexander Pope

If, where the rules not far enough extend,(Since rules were made but to promote their end)Some lucky licence answer to the fullThe intent proposed, that licence is a rule.

Happy the man, whose wish and careA few paternal acres bound,Content to breathe his native airIn his own ground.

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

Philosophy, that leaned on Heaven before,Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.

One science only will one genius fit

Let such teach others who themselves excel

Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk, Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?"Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings,This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings; Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys,Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys,

While pensive poets painful vigils keep,Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.

Poetic justice, with her lifted scale,Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs,And solid pudding against empty praise. Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep,Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep,Till genial Jacob, or a warm third day,Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play:How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie,How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry.