Top 348 Quotes & Sayings by Oliver Goldsmith - Page 6

Fear guides more than gratitude.

Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, His first best country ever is at home.

To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flames from wasting by repose.

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.

For the first time, the best may err, art may persuade, and novelty spread out its charms. The first fault is the child of simplicity; but every other the offspring of guilt.

Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close, Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; There as I passed, with careless steps and slow, The mingling notes came soften'd from below; The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, The sober herd that low'd to meet their young; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school; The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.

There is nothing so absurd or ridiculous that has not at some time been said by some philosopher. Fontenelle says he would undertake to persuade the whole public of readers to believe that the sun was neither the cause of light or heat, if he could only get six philosophers on his side.

Age, that lessens the enjoyment of life, increases our desire of living

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned, Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale.

Fear guides more to their duty than gratitude; for one man who is virtuous from the love of virtue, from the obligation he thinks he lies under to the Giver of all, there are ten thousand who are good only from their apprehension of punishment.

Though very poor, may still be very blest.

But me, not destined such delights to share, My prime of life in wandering spent and care; Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; My fortune leads to traverse reams alone, And find no spot of all the world my own.

Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made.

There is yet a silent agony in which the mind appears to disdain all external help, and broods over its distresses with gloomy reserve. This is the most dangerous state of mind; accidents or friendships may lessen the louder kinds of grief, but all remedies for this must be had from within, and there despair too often finds the most deadly enemy.

Paltry affectation, strained allusions, and disgusting finery are easily attained by those who choose to wear them; they are but too frequently the badges of ignorance or of stupidity, whenever it would endeavor to please.

What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head, Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed; Where the rug's two-fold use we might display, By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.

When any one of our relations was found to be a person of a very bad character, a troublesome guest, or one we desired to get rid of, upon his leaving my house I ever took care to lend him a riding-coat, or a pair of boots, or sometimes a horse of small value, and I always had the satisfaction of finding he never came back to return them.

I always get the better when I argue alone.

The wisdom of the ignorant somewhat resembles the instinct of animals; it is diffused in but a very narrow sphere, but within the circle it acts with vigor, uniformity, and success.

Persecution is a tribute the great must always pay for preeminence.

I hate the French because they are all slaves and wear wooden shoes.

Is it that Nature, attentive to the preservation of mankind, increases our wishes to live, while she lessens our enjoyments, and as she robs the senses of every pleasure, equips imag-ination in the spoil?

An emperor in his nightcap will not meet with half the respect of an emperor with a crown.

Men may be very learned, and yet very miserable; it is easy to be a deep geometrician, or a sublime astronomer, but very difficult to be a good man. I esteem, therefore, the traveller who instructs the heart, but despise him who only indulges the imagination. A man who leaves home to mend himself and others, is a philosopher; but he who goes from country to country, guided by the blind impulse of curiosity, is only a vagabond.

There is one way by which a strolling player may be ever secure of success; that is, in our theatrical way of expressing it, to make a great deal of the character. To speak and act as in common life is not playing, nor is it what people come to see; natural speaking, like sweet wine, runs glibly over the palate and scarcely leaves any taste behind it; but being high in a part resembles vinegar, which grates upon the taste, and one feels it while he is drinking.

This is that eloquence the ancients represented as lightning, bearing down every opposer; this the power which has turned whole assemblies into astonishment, admiration and awe- - that is described by the torrent, the flame, and every other instance of irresistible impetuosity.

Thus 'tis with all; their chief and constant care Is to seem everything but what they are.

Fine declamation does not consist in flowery periods, delicate allusions of musical cadences, but in a plain, open, loose style, where the periods are long and obvious, where the same thought is often exhibited in several points of view.

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.

I learn several great truths; as that it is impossible to see into the ways of futurity, that punishment always attends the villain, that love is the fond soother of the human breast.

The sports of children satisfy the child.

For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought, Enfeebles all internal strength of thought; And the weak soul within itself unblest, Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.

The volumes of antiquity, like medals, may very well serve to amuse the curious, but the works of the moderns, like the current coin of a kingdom, are much better for immediate use.

Books are necessary to correct the vices of the polite; but those vices are ever changing, and the antidote should be changed accordingly should still be new.

How blest is he who crowns in shades like these A youth of labour with an age of ease!

Hope, like the gleaming taper

Blame where you must, be candid where you can, And be each critic the Good-natured Man.

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay.

In proportion as society refines, new books must ever become more necessary.

In a polite age almost every person becomes a reader, and receives more instruction from the Press than the Pulpit.

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

The folly of others is ever most ridiculous to those who are themselves most foolish.

All his faults are such that one loves him still the better for them.

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

Amid thy desert-walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.

By every remove I only drag a greater length of chain.

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