Oliver Goldsmith Quotes

The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.

Let us draw upon Content for the deficiencies of fortune.

Who peppered the highest was surest to please.

The whitewashed wall, the nicely sanded floor,
The varnished clock that clicked behind the door;
The chest contrived a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.

When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away?

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad
When he put on his clothes.

Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain,
With grammar, and nonsense, and learning;
Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,
Gives genus a better discerning.

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.

His best companions, innocence and health;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

A nightcap decked his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night — a stocking all the day!

In my time, the follies of the town crept slowly among us, but now they travel faster than a stagecoach.

A man severe he was, and stern to view;
I knew him well, and every truant knew:
Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
Full well the bust whisper, circling round,
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned;
Yet he was kind; or if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault;
The village all declared how much he knew;
'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too.

We are the boys
That fear no noise
Where the thundering cannons roar.

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.

To the last moment of his breath
On hope the wretch relies;
And e'en the pang preceding death
Bids expectation rise.