A Quote by Oliver Goldsmith

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, that one small head could carry all he knew. — © Oliver Goldsmith
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, that one small head could carry all he knew.
In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill, For e'en though vanquish'd he could argue still; While words of learned length and thundering sound Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around; And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew That one small head could carry all he knew.
Wonder was the grace of the country. Any action could be justified by that: the wonder it was rooted in. Period followed period, and finally the wonder was that things could be built so big. Bridges, skyscrapers, fortunes, all having a life first in the marketplace, still drew on the force of wonder.
Honestly, I had no idea that the heart could cause such trouble and strife. It could be broken and still mend. It could be wounded and still heal. It could be given away still returned, lost and found. It could do all that and still you lived, though according to some, only just.
I grew up on a council estate, but I still had a roof over my head, we still had food, I went on school trips. I wasn't completely deprived.
I could shave my head and wear a sackcloth and still get a whole lot of ghostly wrong numbers. Makes me wonder if there’s some kind of ghost-necro porn industry down there. ~Jaime Vegas
What makes most people comfortable is some sort of sense of nostalgia. I grew up in a small town, and I could count my friends on one hand, and I still live that way. I think I'll die in a small town. When I can't move my bones around a stage any more, you'll find me living in a place that's spread out and rural and spacious.
I'm still that indie kid at heart. I'm still that guy who wrestled in front of 15 people and never knew he'd make it to WWE. I'm still that person.
I thought it might be fun to set my books in Nevada, which is in the West and still pretty Wild. You can still gamble, carry a loaded pistol, and go into a silver-mine, and they still have saloons with swinging doors, boardwalks, and horses.
I thought it might be fun to set my books in Nevada, which is in the West and still pretty Wild. You can still gamble, carry a loaded pistol and go into a silver-mine and they still have saloons with swinging doors, boardwalks, and horses.
But I still wonder how it was possible, in those graceless years of transition, long ago, that men did not see whither they were going, and went on, in blindness and cowardice, to their fate. I wonder, for it is hard for me to conceive how men who knew the word "I," could give it up and not know what they lost. But such has been the story, for I have lived in the City of the damned, and I know what horror men permitted to be brought upon them.
A tall, well-built man with a deep chest and broad shoulders can carry a heavy burden with ease and unconcern, and still keep one hand free; a dwarf would be crushed by half that weight. Thus lofty posts make great men greater still, and small men much smaller.
Ivory Coast, even though I told them no at first, they still had the belief in me and still wanted me because they knew what I could do for the team.
We grew up as poor people but we never knew poverty. I still love and miss the Somalia I grew up in. Things changed, when my father became a diplomat later on.
If you knew that only a few would care that you came, would you still come? If you knew that those you loved would laugh in your face, would you still care? If you knew that the tongues you made would mock you, the mouths you made would spit at you, the hands you made would crucify you, would you still make them? Christ did.
But inside of me I knew that the Olympics were still there. I was still young enough. I knew that once I transitioned out of hockey, it would be really hard to go back.
I think the hardest person to love is yourself I mean- You carry your flaws like burdens And you feel them on your skin The words you shouldn't have said Still echo in your head So you keep quiet Your mistakes, like monsters They haunt you And you put them to sleep every night The words you should've said Still echo in your head I bet you'd give yourself a chance If you were someone else instead
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