Oliver Goldsmith Quotes
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Alike all ages. Dames of ancient daysHave led their children through the mirthful maze,And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore,Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.
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He calls his extravagance, generosity; and his trusting everybody, universal benevolence.
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The dog, to gain some private ends,Went mad, and bit the man.
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Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were won.
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Forc'd from their homes, a melancholy train,To traverse climes beyond the western main;Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around,And Niagara stuns with thundering sound.
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And, as a bird each fond endearment triesTo tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
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A kind and gentle heart he had,To comfort friends and foes;The naked every day he cladWhen he put on his clothes.
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The very pink of perfection.
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Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
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Don't let us make imaginary evils, when you know we have so many real ones to encounter.
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Vain, very vain, my weary search to findThat bliss which only centers in the mind.
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And in that town a dog was found,As many dogs there be,Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,And curs of low degree.
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Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain.
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The polite of every country seem to have but one character. A gentleman of Sweden differs but little, except in trifles, from one of any other country. It is among the vulgar we are to find those distinctions which characterize a people.
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One writer, for instance, excels at a plan or a title page, another works away at the body of the book, and a third is a dab at an index.
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Politics resemble religion; attempting to divest either of ceremony is the most certain mode of bringing either into contempt.
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The king himself has followed herWhen she has walk'd before.
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The youth who follows his appetites too soon seizes the cup, before it has received its best ingredients, and by anticipating his pleasures, robs the remaining parts of life of their share, so that his eagerness only produces manhood of imbecility and an age of pain.
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Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth:If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt.
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That strain once more; it bids remembrance rise.
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No flocks that range the valley freeTo slaughter I condemn;Taught by that Power that pities me,I learn to pity them:But from the mountain’s grassy sideA guiltless feast I bring;A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,And water from the spring.
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And what is friendship but a name,A charm that lulls to sleep,A shade that follows wealth or fame,And leaves the wretch to weep?
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Who peppered the highest was surest to please.
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I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects too.