"Oliver Goldsmith"の名言

Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.

Philosophy ... should not pretend to increase our present stock, but make us economists of what we are possessed of.

Hope, like the gleaming taper's light, adorns and cheers our way; And still, as darker grows the night, emits a lighter ray.

Man wants but little here below nor wants that little long.

Philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but an errant jade on a journey.

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'd the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'd the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.

I'll fares the land, to hastening ills of prey Where wealth accumulates, and men decay.

I'll fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay; Princes and Lords may flourish, or may fade - A breath can make them, as a breath has made - But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd can never be supplied.

A modest woman, dressed out in all her finery, is the most tremendous object of the whole creation.

Fortune is ever seen accompanying industry.

Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs.

In all my wanderings through 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; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting, by repose: I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt, and all I saw; And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return -- and die at home at last.

I love everything that is old; old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wines.

The first time I read an excellent book, it is to me just as if I had gained a new friend. When I read a book over I have perused before, it resembles the meeting with an old one.

Friendship is a disinterested commerce between equals; love, an abject intercourse between tyrants and slaves.

Every absurdity has a champion to defend it.

Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not strength enough to prevent it seldom has justice enough to accuse.

On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting, 'Twas only when he was off, he was acting.

There are some faults so nearly allied to excellence that we can scarce weed out the vice without eradicating the virtue.