A Quote by Alexander Pope

Whate'er the talents, or howe'er designed, We hang one jingling padlock on the mind. — © Alexander Pope
Whate'er the talents, or howe'er designed, We hang one jingling padlock on the mind.

Quote Topics

Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed; Once I went back when a good monarch prayed; Mortals, howe'er we grieve, howe'er deplore, The flying shadow will return no more.
Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day: Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away, To sleep! to sleep! Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past: Sleep, happy soul, all life will sleep at last.
It fortifies my soul to know That, though I perish, Truth is so: That, howsoe'er I stray and range, Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change. I steadier step when I recall That, if I slip Thou dost not fall.
The mind is free, whate'er afflict the man, A King's a King, do Fortune what she can.
If I had died it would have been even better for you political bratchnies, would it not, pretending and treacherous droogs as you are.' But all that came out was er er er.
Know'st not whate'er we do is done in love?
Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader browner shade; Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er-canopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit, and think.
Dear God, I prayed, all unafraid (as we're inclined to do), I do not need a handsome man but let him be like You; I do not need one big and strong nor yet so very tall, nor need he be some genius, or wealthy, Lord, at all; but let his head be high, dear God, and let his eye be clear, his shoulders straight, whate'er his state, whate'er his earthly sphere; and let his face have character, a ruggedness if soul, and let his whole life show, dear God, a singleness of goal; then when he comes (as he will come) with quiet eyes aglow, I'll understand that he's the man I prayed for long ago.
Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
For where'er the sun does shine, And where'er the rain does fall, Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appall.
No, Freedom has a thousand charms to show That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
Whate'er is well conceived is clearly said, And the words to say it flow with ease.
Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, Not one will change his neighbor with himself.
Whate'er my doom; It cannot be unhappy: God hath given me The boon of resignation.
Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
Mensch kann tun was er will; er kann aber nicht wollen was er will. (One can choose what to do, but not what to want.)
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