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Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet read more
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and read more
In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and round as an apple is he,
Content with the present whate'er it may be,
While from care and from cash he is equally free,
And merry both night and day!
"Ma foi! I laugh at the world," says he,
"I laugh at the world, and the world laughs at me!"
What a gay little man in gray.
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too read more
Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too narrow for two kings.
Let's live with that small pittance which we have;
Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Let's live with that small pittance which we have;
Who covets more is evermore a slave.
Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing read more
Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing hand what is sufficient for his
wants.
[Lat., Multa petentibus
Desunt multa; bene est cui deus obtulit
Parca quod satis est manu.]
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither read more
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither hopes deceive, nor fears torment,
But lives at peace, within himself content;
In thought, or act, accountable to none
But to himself, and to the gods alone.
In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
read more
In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
Are furnish'd as plain as a patriarch's tent,
With all for convenience, but nothing for show:
Like Robinson Crusoe's, both peaceful and pleasant,
By industry stor'd, like the hive of a bee;
And the peer who looks down with contempt on a peasant.
Can ne'er be look'd up to with envy by me.