Oliver Goldsmith
Oliver Goldsmith
Oliver Goldsmithwas an Irish novelist, playwright and poet, who is best known for his novel The Vicar of Wakefield, his pastoral poem The Deserted Village, and his plays The Good-Natur'd Manand She Stoops to Conquer. He is thought to have written the classic children's tale The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth10 November 1730
CountryIreland
game good royal rules twelve
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose.
children endearing followed good share
Even children followed with endearing wile,/ And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.
good help mother perfectly qualified
That's a good girl. I find you are perfectly qualified for making converts, and so go help your mother to make the gooseberry-pie.
cannot ear good hold people unto wondrous
Good people all, of every sort, / Give ear unto my song; / And if you do find it wondrous short, / It cannot hold you long.
learning luxury doing-good
And learn the luxury of doing good.
children men good-man
Even children follow'd with endearing wile, And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile.
goodbye brother pain
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
results politeness good-nature
Politeness is the result of good sense and good nature.
individuality woe goodness
Whatever mitigates the woes, or increases the happiness of others, is a just criterion of goodness; and whatever injures society at large, or any individual in it, is a criterion of iniquity.
fond love taste
I love everything that's old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wines; and, I believe, Dorothy, you'll own I have been pretty fond of an old wife.
felicity ourselves
Still to ourselves in every place consigned, / Our own felicity we make or find.
bashful glance looks
The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,/ The matron's glance that would those looks reprove.
mere
I'm now no more than a mere lodger in my own house.
beneath sweet
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.