The Miscellaneous Works of Oliver Goldsmith: Letters from a citizen of the world to his friends in the East

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A. and W. Galignani and Jules Didot, 1825 - English literature
 

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Page 113 - That dimly show'd the state in which he lay ; The sanded floor, that grits beneath the tread ; The humid wall with paltry pictures spread...
Page 455 - ... and, with short-sighted presumption, promised themselves immortality! Posterity can hardly trace the situation of some; the sorrowful traveller wanders over the awful ruins of others ; and, as he beholds, he learns wisdom, and feels the transience of every sublunary possession.
Page 297 - ... of manhood ; the numberless calamities of decaying nature, and the consciousness of surviving every pleasure, would at once induce him, with his own hand, to terminate the scene of misery ; but happily the contempt of death forsakes him at a time when it could only be prejudicial, and life acquires an imaginary value in proportion as its real value is no more.
Page 465 - Though we had no arms, one Englishman is able to beat five French at any time; so we went down to the door where both the sentries were posted, and rushing upon them, seized their arms in a moment, and knocked them down. From thence nine of us ran together to the quay, and seizing the first boat we met, got out of the harbour and put to sea.
Page 297 - A mind long habituated to a certain set of objects, insensibly becomes fond of seeing them ; visits them from habit, and parts from them with reluctance...
Page 25 - Our greatest glory is, not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.
Page 100 - ... or a black coat when I generally dressed in brown, I thought was such a restraint upon my liberty, that I absolutely rejected the proposal. A priest in England is not the same mortified creature with a bonze in China : with us, not he that fasts best, but eats best, is...
Page 221 - By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would permit us to ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the first floor down the chimney; and, knocking at the door, a voice from within demanded 'who's there?
Page 270 - Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego, All earth-born cares are wrong ; Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.
Page 114 - William show'd his lamp-black face. The morn was cold ; he views with keen desire The rusty grate unconscious of a fire : With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scored, And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chimney board, A nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay, A cap by night — a stocking all the day ! * A PROLOGUE, WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY THE POET LABEBTD8, A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CJESAS.

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