Oliver Goldsmith Quotes
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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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The dog, to gain some private ends,Went mad, and bit the man.
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Vain, very vain, my weary search to findThat bliss which only centers in the mind.
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Good people all, with one acord,Lament for Madame Blaize,Who never wanted a good word —From those who spoke her praise.
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Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain.
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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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Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,I see the lords of humankind pass by.
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A man he was to all the country dear,And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
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Cheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose,Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes.
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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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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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I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects too.
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The king himself has followed herWhen she has walk'd before.
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Who peppered the highest was surest to please.
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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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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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He calls his extravagance, generosity; and his trusting everybody, universal benevolence.
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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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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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The little mind who loves itself, will wr'te and think with the vulgar; but the great mind will be bravely eccentric, and scorn the beaten road, from universal benevolence.
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That strain once more; it bids remembrance rise.
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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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The land of scholars and the nurse of arms.
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The more various our artificial necessities, the wider is our circle of pleasure; for all pleasure consists in obviating necessities as they rise; luxury, therefore, as it increases our wants, increases our capacity for happiness