Jonathan Swift
Jonathan Swift
Jonathan Swiftwas an Anglo-Irish satirist, essayist, political pamphleteer, poet and cleric who became Dean of St Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth30 November 1667
CountryIreland
profound understanding literature
Where I am not understood, it shall be concluded that something very useful and profound is couched underneath.
character profound sublime
There are certain common privileges of a writer, the benefit whereof, I hope, there will be no reason to doubt; particularly, that where I am not understood, it shall be concluded, that something very useful and profound is couched underneath; and again, that whatever word or sentence is printed in a different character, shall be judged to contain something extraordinary either or wit of sublime.
bewitched last protest sparing took water
Indeed, Madame, your ladyship is very sparing of your tea; I protest the last I took was no more than water bewitched
consult ends private
In all distresses of our friends We first consult our private ends
abound conceive hard others riches
Nothing is so hard for those who abound in riches to conceive how others can be in want.
bottle madness places sold
Taverns are places where madness is sold by the bottle
That's as well said as if I had said it myself
expressly heaven ignorant
What they do in heaven we are ignorant of; what they do not we are told expressly
art seeing vision
Vision is the art of seeing things invisible.
child daughter pride war
War is the child of Pride, and Pride the daughter of Riches.
defined proper style words writers-and-writing
Style may defined as the proper words in the proper places.
art fools power thou thy weak
So weak thou art that fools thy power despise; And yet so strong, thou triumph'st o'er the wise.
alone less man wise
A wise man is never less alone than when he is alone
bell burden cart hear left rang start thunder
Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone, To all my friends a burden grown; No more I hear my church's bell Than if it rang out for my knell; At thunder now no more I start Than at the rumbling of a cart