Alexander Pope Art Quotations

Poets like painters, thus unskilled to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part, And hide with ornaments their want of art. True wit is Nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.

Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.

No creature smarts so little as a fool.

Love, Hope, and Joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of pain, These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd Make and maintain the balance of the mind.

To dazzle let the vain design, To raise the thought and touch the heart, be thine!

Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content, And the gay Conscience of a life well spent, Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace, Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face.

That, chang'd thro' all and yet in all the same, Great in the Earth as in th' Ætherial frame, Warms in the Sun, refreshes in the Breeze, Glows in the Stars, and blossoms in the Trees... Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part... Submit — in this, or any other Sphere, Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear. 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...

Most authors steal their works, or buy.

Then sculpture and her sister arts revived; stones leaped to form, and rocks began to live.

Party-spirit at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.

One science only will one genius fit; so vast is art, so narrow human wit.

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mixed with Gods, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand - the name appears Already written - wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeyes.

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.

If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, O, teach my heart To find that better way!

So vast is art, so narrow human wit.

I find myself hoping a total end of all the unhappy divisions of mankind by party-spirit, which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.

Is it, in Heav'n, a crime to love too well? To bear too tender or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reversion in the sky For those who greatly think, or bravely die?

Ah! what avails it me the flocks to keep, Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my sheep.

The scripture in times of disputes is like an open town in times of war, which serves in differently the occasions of both parties.

First follow Nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same: Unerring nature, still divinely bright, One clear, unchanged, and universal light, Life, force, and beauty must to all impart, At once the source, and end, and test of art.

Persons of genius, and those who are most capable of art, are always most fond of nature: as such are chiefly sensible, that all art consists in the imitation and study of nature.

Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; But every woman is at heart a rake.

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.

Consult the Genius of the Place in all.

How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead.

"With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a heart.

The soul's calm sunshine and heartfelt joy.

To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each Seene, and be what they behold: For this the Tragic Muse first trod the stage.

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.

Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit, There is no cure 'gainst age but it

There never was any party, faction, sect, or cabal whatsoever, in which the most ignorant were not the most violent; for a bee is not a busier animal than a blockhead.

Art still followed where Rome's eagles flew.

Every woman is at heart a rake.

Homer excels all the inventors of other arts in this: that he has swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.

The life of a wit is a warfare upon earth.

A gen'rous heart repairs a sland'rous tongue.

What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy, Is virtue's prize.

Others import yet nobler arts from France, Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.

Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield; Learn from the beasts the physic of the field; The arts of building from the bee receive; Learn of the mole to plow, the worm to weave.

The heart resolves this matter in a trice, "Men only feel the smart, but not the vice.

So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part, Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.

All nature is but art unknown to thee.

A work of art that contains theories is like an object on which the price tag has been left.

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, as those who move easiest have learned to dance.

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, as those move easiest who have learn'd to dance.

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