Alexander Pope Quotes About Soul
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Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
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The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole Can never be a mouse of any soul.
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Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
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Superstition is the spleen of the soul.
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[T]hro this Air, this Ocean, and this Earth, All Nature quick, and bursting into birth. Above, how high progressive life may go? Around how wide? how deep extend below? Vast Chain of Being! which from God began, Ethereal Essence, Spirit, Substance, Man, Beast, Bird, Fish, Insect! what no Eye can see, No Glass can reach! from Infinite to Thee! From Thee to Nothing.... From Natures Chain whatever Link you strike, Tenth, or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.... All are but parts of one stupendous Whole: Whose Body Nature is, and God the Soul.
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Charm strikes the sight, but merit wins the soul.
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The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy.
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Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.
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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.
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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.
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The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
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Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear; Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.
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Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never Is, but always To be Blest. The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home, Rest and expatiates in a life to come. Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way; Yet simple Nature to his hope has giv'n, Behind the cloud-topp'd hill, an humbler heav'n.
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Drink is the feast of reason and the flow of soul.
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To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.
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To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart
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The Dying Christian to His Soul (1712) -Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Stanza 1.
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Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul; Reason's comparing balance rules the whole. Man, but for that no action could attend, And, but for this, were active to no end: Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot, To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot; Or, meteor-like, flame lawless thro' the void, Destroying others, by himself destroy'd.
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Heaven breathes thro' ev'ry member of the whole One common blessing, as one common soul.
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Light quirks of music, broken and uneven,Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heav'n.
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Is there a parson much bemused in beer, a maudlin poetess, a rhyming peer, a clerk foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, who pens a stanza when he should engross?
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All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
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Lo! the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or milky way.
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What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy, Is virtue's prize.
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No craving void left aching in the soul.
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