Alexander Pope
Alexander Pope
Alexander Popewas an 18th-century English poet. He is best known for his satirical verse, as well as for his translation of Homer. Famous for his use of the heroic couplet, he is the second-most frequently quoted writer in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, after Shakespeare...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth21 May 1688
ashamed man today wiser
A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.
dangerous drink drinking knowledge largely learning shallow taste
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring; There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain; And drinking largely sobers us again.
excuse worse
An excuse is worse than a lie, for an excuse is a lie, guarded.
dear gold grow rust
Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old:It is the rust we value, not the gold.
dear gold grow rust
Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old: It is the rust we value, not the gold.
birthday count grateful
PLeas'd look forward, pleas'd to look behind, And count each birthday with a grateful mind.
madmen run saint self worst zeal
For virtue's self may too much zeal be had; the worst of madmen is a saint run mad.
foreign grave hands humble strangers thy
By foreign hands thy humble grave adorned; By strangers honored, and by strangers mourned.
book creatures heaven hides page present state
Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state
harmony nature partial spite thou truth universal unknown whatever
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; And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right
fool fools-and-foolishness knows learned nature
The learned is happy, nature to explore; The fool is happy, that he knows no more
charms merit soul strike wins
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul
So perish all who do the like again.
children writing numbers
Why did I write? whose sin to me unknown Dipt me in ink, my parents', or my own? As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.