Oliver Goldsmith
Oliver Goldsmith
Oliver Goldsmithwas an Irish novelist, playwright and poet, who is best known for his novel The Vicar of Wakefield, his pastoral poem The Deserted Village, and his plays The Good-Natur'd Manand She Stoops to Conquer. He is thought to have written the classic children's tale The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth10 November 1730
CountryIreland
sunshine clouds storm
As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,- Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
weed cities house
What cities, as great as this, have . . . promised themselves immortality! Posterity can hardly trace the situation of some. The sorrowful traveller wanders over the awful ruins of others. . . . Here stood their citadel, but now grown over with weeds; there their senate-house, but now the haunt of every noxious reptile; temples and theatres stood here, now only an undistinguished heap of ruins.
sorrow done fields
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and shew'd how fields were won.
circles voice squares
As ten millions of circles can never make a square, so the united voice of myriads cannot lend the smallest foundation to falsehood.
humility alive enough
With disadvantages enough to bring him to humility, a Scotsman is one of the proudest things alive.
war littles merit
You will always find that those are most apt to boast of national merit, who have little or not merit of their own to depend on . . .
needs multitudes willing
When a person has no need to borrow they find multitudes willing to lend.
love faults one-love
All his faults are such that one loves him still the better for them.
ignorance riches wealth
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
life form quarry
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.
life life-is
All the bloomy flush of life is fled.
hope heart expectations
The wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies; And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise.
hope grief humble
In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs-and God has given my share- I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down.
hope future views
The hours we pass with happy prospects in view are more pleasing than those crowded with fruition.