Maxioms by Oliver Goldsmith
No one but a fool would measure their satisfaction by what the world thinks of it.
No one but a fool would measure their satisfaction by what the world thinks of it.
At night returning, every labour sped,
He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by read more
At night returning, every labour sped,
He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard,
Displays her cleanly platter on the board.
Trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay.
Trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay.
The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While read more
The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,The matrons glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;These were thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms -- but all these charms are fled. - Deserted Village, The.
Every absurdity has a champion to defend it, for error is always talkative.
Every absurdity has a champion to defend it, for error is always talkative.
