Quote #62
But when mischief mortals bend their will, How soon they find fit instruments of ill!
More from Alexander Pope
- Coffee, which makes the politician wise, And see through all things with his half-shut eyes.
- The meeting points the sacred hair dissever From the fair head, forever, and forever! Then flashed the living lightning from her eyes, And …
- Let spades be trumps! she said, and trumps they were.
- Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane.
- The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang that jurymen may dine.
- Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
- At every word a reputation dies.
- Oh name forever sad! forever dear! Still breathed in sighs, still ushered with a tear.