All panegyrics are mingled with an infusion of poppy. Jonathan Swift More Quotes by Jonathan Swift More Quotes From Jonathan Swift There seems to be no part of knowledge in fewer hands than that of discerning when to have done. Jonathan Swift fewerdonehands The axe of intemperance has lopped off his green boughs and left him a withered trunk. Jonathan Swift intemperancetrunksgreen Oh how our neighbour lifts his nose, Jonathan Swift liftsnoseseducation ... the atheists, libertines, despisers of religion ... that is to say all those who usually pass under the name of Free-thinkers. Jonathan Swift atheismatheistnames Orators inflame the people, whose anger is really but a short fit of madness. Jonathan Swift fitmadnesspeople All fits of pleasure are balanced by an equal degree of pain or languor; it is like spending this year part of the next year's revenue. Jonathan Swift painhappinessyears The first springs of great events, like those of great rivers, are often mean and little. Jonathan Swift springriversmean Tell truth, and shame the devil. Jonathan Swift shamedeviltruth Unjustly poets we asperse: Truth shines the brighter clad in verse, And all the fictions they pursue Do but insinuate what is true. Jonathan Swift poetshiningfiction I'll give you leave to call me anything, if you don't call me spade. Jonathan Swift spadesnamesgiving Polite Conversation Why, everyone one as they like; as the good woman said when she kissed her cow. Jonathan Swift good-womancowsfather Say, Britain, could you ever boast, Three poets in an age at most? Our chilling climate hardly bears A sprig of bays in fifty years. Jonathan Swift climateageyears I'm up and down and round about, Yet all the world can't find me out; Though hundreds have employed their leisure, They never yet could find my measure. Jonathan Swift down-andcirclesworld This single Stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying in that neglected Corner, I once knew in a flourishing State in a Forest: It was full of Sap, full of Leaves, and full of Boughs: But now, in vain does the busy Art of Man pretend to vie with Nature, by tying that withered Bundle of Twigs to its sapless Trunk: It is at best but the Reverse of what it was; a Tree turned upside down, the Branches on the Earth, and the Root in the Air. Jonathan Swift naturelyingart Hail, follow, well met, All dirty and wet: Find out, if you can, Who's master, who's man. Jonathan Swift hailmendirty I have heard of a man who had a mind to sell his house, and therefore carried a piece of brick in his pocket, which he shewed as a pattern to encourage purchasers. Jonathan Swift househomemen It is with wits as with razors, which are never so apt to cut those they are employed on as when they have lost their edge. Jonathan Swift razorscuttinglost Hail fellow, well met. Jonathan Swift hailmetswells The tucked-up sempstress walks with hasty strides, While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's sides. Jonathan Swift oilsidesrunning Atlas, we read in ancient song, Was so exceeding tall and strong, He bore the skies upon his back, Just as the pedler does his pack; But, as the pedler overpress'd Unloads upon a stall to rest, Or, when he can no longer stand, Desires a friend to lend a hand, So Atlas, lest the ponderous spheres Should sink, and fall about his ears, Got Hercules to bear the pile, That he might sit and rest awhile. Jonathan Swift strongsongfall
