Oliver Goldsmith

10 Nov 1728 // 4 Apr 1774
Writer, Poet


Next >>

In all the silent manliness of grief.
O Luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree!

The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love.

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain.

And fools who came to scoff remain'd to pray.

The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year.
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
His best companions, innocence and health;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
How blest is he who crowns in shades like these
A youth of labour with an age of ease!
Next >>


On Anger: "For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind."
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
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."