Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven, And though no science, fairly worth the seven.
To teach vain Wits that Science little known, T' admire Superior Sense, and doubt their own!
How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, and love the offender, yet detest the offence?
Vices and virtues are of a strange nature, for the more we have, the fewer we think we have.
Man never thinks himself happy, but when he enjoys those things which others want or desire.
Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, Those call it pleasure, and contentment these.
To what base ends, and by what abject ways, Are mortals urg'd through sacred lust of praise!
Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.
But those who cannot write, and those who can, All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a man.
What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things.
Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.
Poets heap virtues, painters gems, at will, And show their zeal, and hide their want of skill.
Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, Not one will change his neighbor with himself.
From Nature's chain whatever link you strike, Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.
For forms of faith let graceless zealots fight; his can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd and make the learned smile.
Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!
For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, His can't be wrong whose life is in the right.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Nay, fly to altars; there they'll talk you dead; For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain; And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain
Whether with Reason, or with Instinct blest, Know, all enjoy that pow'r which suits them best.
While man exclaims, "See all things for my use!" "See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose.
Here thou, great Anna! Whom three realms obey, / Dost sometimes counsel take—and sometimes tea.
Words are like Leaves; and where they most abound, Much Fruit of Sense beneath is rarely found.
The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife gives all the strength and color of our life.
And you, my Critics! in the chequer'd shade, Admire new light thro' holes yourselves have made.
'Tis not enough your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.
True friendship's laws are by this rule express'd, Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
All looks yellow to the jaundiced eye. [and therefore the solution is to fix the jaundiced eye.]
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight; Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight.
Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.
Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.
The vanity of human life is like a river, constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on.
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, as those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.
Some judge of authors' names, not works, and then Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men.
Man, like the generous vine, supported lives; the strength he gains is from the embrace he gives.
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.
The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppressed!
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words,-health, peace, and competence.
Content if hence th' unlearn'd their wants may view, The learn'd reflect on what before they knew.
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?
To endeavor to work upon the vulgar with fine sense is like attempting to hew blocks with a razor.
The Muse but serv'd to ease some friend, not wife, / To help me through this long disease, my life.
Some people are commended for a giddy kind of good-humor, which is as much a virtue as drunkenness.
As with narrow-necked bottles; the less they have in them, the more noise they make in pouring out.
Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed was the ninth beatitude.
Only music has the ability to take you to the edge of reality and allow you to peek in for a moment.