Oliver Goldsmith

The sigh that rends thy constant heart Shall break thy Edwin's too.

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?

Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.

No flocks that range the valley free To slaughter I condemn; Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to pity them: But from the mountain’s grassy side A guiltless feast I bring;

Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray.

I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects too.

The premises being thus settled, I proceed to observe that the concatenation of self-existence, proceeding in a reciprocal duplicate ratio, naturally produces a problematical dialogism, which in some measure proves that the essence of …

That virtue which requires to be ever guarded is scarce worth the sentinel.

Let us draw upon Content for the deficiencies of fortune.

Handsome is that handsome does.

We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to enhance the value of its favors.

I...chose a wife, as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine glossy surface, but such qualities as would wear well.

I was ever of the opinion that the honest man who married and brought up a large family, did more service than he who continued single, and only talked of population.

A book may be very amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single absurdity.

Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel.

Vain, very vain, my weary search to find That bliss which only centers in the mind.

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.

Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.

For just experience tells; in every soil, That those that think must govern those that toil.

The land of scholars and the nurse of arms.

Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of humankind pass by.

To men of other minds my fancy flies, Embosomed in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land.

They please, are pleased, they give to get esteem, Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.

Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze, And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.