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Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
Oliver Goldsmith
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Oliver Goldsmith
Age: 43 †
Born: 1730
Born: November 10
Died: 1774
Died: April 4
Dramaturge
Essayist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Physician
Physician Writer
Playwright
Poet
Polygraph
Theatrical Producer
Writer
Elphin
County Roscommon
Oliver Goldsmit
Doctor Goldsmith
Oliverio Goldsmith
Oliverus Goldsmith
Olver Goldsmith
Olivier Goldsmith
Dottor Golssmith
Tom Telescope
Solomon Winlove
James Willington
Author of the Vicar of Wakefield
Dr Goldsmith
Inspired Idiot
Towns
Elegy
Lows
Hound
Degrees
Hounds
Dog
Puppy
Death
Dogs
Found
Mad
Many
Town
Degree
Mongrel
More quotes by Oliver Goldsmith
For the first time, the best may err, art may persuade, and novelty spread out its charms. The first fault is the child of simplicity but every other the offspring of guilt.
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A man's own heart must ever be given to gain that of another.
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Want of prudence is too frequently the want of virtue.
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Wit generally succeeds more from being happily addressed than from its native poignancy. A jest, calculated to spread at a gaming-table, may be received with, perfect indifference should it happen to drop in a mackerel-boat.
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Taste is the power of relishing or rejecting whatever is offered for the entertainment of the imagination.
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Romance and novel paint beauty in colors more charming than nature, and describe a happiness that humans never taste. How deceptive and destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss!
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Absence, like death, sets a seal on the image of those we love: we cannot realize the intervening changes which time may have effected.
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All that philosophy can teach is to be stubborn or sullen under misfortunes.
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The wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies And every pang that rends the heart Bids expectation rise.
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Amid thy desert-walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
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A man who leaves home to mend himself and others is a philosopher but he who goes from country to country, guided by the blind impulse of curiosity, is a vagabond.
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Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, And round his dwelling guardian saints attend.
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A book may be very amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single absurdity.
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And the weak soul, within itself unbless'd, Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
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In all the silent manliness of grief.
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A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes The naked every day he clad When he put on his clothes.
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The man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died.
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Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of humankind pass by.
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O Luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree!
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The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.
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