Oliver Goldsmith
Ireland
10 Nov 1728 // 4 Apr 1774
Writer, Poet
10 Nov 1728 // 4 Apr 1774
Writer, Poet
Quotes
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When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff,
He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.
He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.
Retaliation
He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack,
For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them back.
For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them back.
Retaliation
There is no arguing with him, for if his pistol misses fire, he knockes you down with the butt end of it.
Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt;
It 's like sending them ruffles when wanting a shirt.
It 's like sending them ruffles when wanting a shirt.
The Haunch of Venison
The genteel thing is the genteel thing any time, if as be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly.
She Stoops to Conquer
Friendship is a disinterested commerce between equals; love, an abject intercourse between tyrants and slaves.
Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale,
And guide my lonely way
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray.
And guide my lonely way
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray.
The Hermit
Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not strength enough to prevent it seldom has justice enough to accuse.
The Vicar of Wakefield
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad
When he put on his clothes.
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad
When he put on his clothes.
Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog
To the last moment of his breath,
On hope the wretch relies;
And even the pang preceding death
Bids expectation rise.
On hope the wretch relies;
And even the pang preceding death
Bids expectation rise.
The Captivity
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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