Alexander Pope Quotes About Lying
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An excuse is worse and more terrible than a lie; for an excuse is a lie guarded.
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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.
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If it be the chief point of friendship to comply with a friends motions and inclinations, he possesses this in a eminent degree; he lies down when I sit, and walks when I walk, which is more than many good friends can pretend to do.
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Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words,-health, peace, and competence.
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In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the bless'd abodes, Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
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The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppressed!
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A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
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The dull flat falsehood serves for policy, and in the cunning, truth's itself a lie.
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Fame can never make us lie down contentedly on a deathbed.
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Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.
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Never was it given to mortal man - To lie so boldly as we women can.
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Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies, And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise.
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Who combats bravely is not therefore brave, He dreads a death-bed like the meanest slave: Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise,- His pride in reasoning, not in acting lies.
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Honor and shame from no condition rise. Act well your part: there all the honor lies.
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Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
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Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.
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He who tells a lie is not sensible of how great a task he undertakes; for he must be forced to invent twenty more to maintain that one.
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Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart. One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas; And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels. In parts superior what advantage lies? Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise? 'T is but to know how little can be known; To see all others' faults, and feel our own.
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