Oliver Goldsmith
Ireland
10 Nov 1728 // 4 Apr 1774
Writer, Poet
10 Nov 1728 // 4 Apr 1774
Writer, Poet
Quotes
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For just experience tells, in every soil,
That those that think must govern those that toil.
That those that think must govern those that toil.
The Traveller
By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd;
The sports of children satisfy the child.
The sports of children satisfy the child.
The Traveller
A flattering painter, who made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
Retaliation
We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to enhance the value of its favours.
Vicar of Wakefield
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
And fools who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
The Deserted Village
Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.
The Deserted Village
On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting;
'T was only that when he was off he was acting.
'T was only that when he was off he was acting.
Retaliation
Where wealth and freedom reign contentment fails,
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.
The Traveller
Even children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.
The Deserted Village
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound,
And news much older than their ale went round.
And news much older than their ale went round.
The Deserted Village
Search
On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
Essays
Essays
On Destiny: "Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today."
Human, All Too Human
Human, All Too Human
On Friendship: "A crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love."
Essays
Essays