535 quotes
Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.
As some to Church repair,
Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
An Essay on Criticism (1709)
There are, to whom my satire seems too bold;
Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough,
And something said of Chartres much too rough.
Give me again my hollow tree
A crust of bread, and liberty!
So upright Quakers please both man and God.
And more than echoes talk along the walls.
Eloisa to Abelard (1717)
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
Eloisa to Abelard (1717)
To build, to plant, whatever you intend,
To rear the column, or the arch to bend,
To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot,
In all, let Nature never be forgot.
Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But as the world, harmoniously confus'd,
Where order in variety we see,
And where, though all things differ, all agree.
Windsor Forest (1713)
Poets like painters, thus unskill'd to trace
The naked nature and the living grace,
With gold and jewels cover every part,
And hide with ornaments their want of art.
An Essay on Criticism (1709)
As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,
Receives the lurking principle of death,
The young disease, that must subdue at length,
Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength.
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style,
Amaze th' learn'd, and make the learned smile.
An Essay on Criticism (1709)
Years following years steal something ev'ry day.
At last they steal us from ourselves away.
Alas! in truth, the man but chang'd his mind,
Perhaps was sick, in love, or had not dined.
Oh, blindness to the future! kindly giv'n,
That each may fill the circle mark'd by heaven.
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.
For forms of government let fools contest;
Whate'er is best administer'd is best.
Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
And sit attentive to his own applause.
Prologue to the Satires (1735)
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
'Tis but to know how little can be known,
To see all other's faults, and feel our own.
What then remains, but well our power to use,
And keep good-humor still whate'er we lose?
And trust me, dear, good-humor can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail.
The Rape of the Lock (1712)