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Tobias Smollett

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Tobias Smollett circa 1770

Tobias George Smollett (c. March 16, 1721September 17, 1771) was a Scottish novelist, translator, historian and editor.

Quotes

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  • Facts are stubborn things.
    • Translation of Gil Blas (1749), Book X, Chap. 1.
    • Also used by Bernard Mandeville in An Enquiry Into the Origin of Honour (1732), p. 162, and by Jared Elliot in Essay on Field Husbandry (1747), p. 35.
  • Thy spirit, Independence, let me share,
    Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye.
    Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,
    Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
    • Ode to Independence, strophe 1.
  • Those sculptur'd halls my feet shall never tread,
    Where varnish'd vice and vanity combin'd,
    To dazzle and seduce, their banners spread,
    And forge vile shackles for the free-born mind.
    • Ode to Independence, antistrophe 3.
  • Thy fatal shafts unerring move,
    I bow before thine altar, Love!

The Regicide (1749)

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  • Keen are the pangs
    Of hapless love, and passion unapprov'd:
    But where consenting wishes meet, and vows
    Reciprocally breath'd, confirm the tie,
    Joy rolls on joy, an inexhausted stream!
    And virtue crowns the sacred scene.
    • Act I, scene iii.
  • To-day, in snow array'd, stern winter rules
    The ravag'd plain—Anon the teeming earth
    Unlocks her stores, and spring adorns the year:
    And shall not we—while fate, like winter, frowns,
    Expect revolving bliss?
    • Act I, scene vi.
  • To exult
    Ev'n o'er an enemy oppress'd, and heap
    Affliction on the afflicted, is the mark
    And the mean triumph of a dastard soul.
    • Act II, scene vii.
  • True courage scorns
    To vent her prowess in a storm of words;
    And, to the valiant, actions speak alone.
    • Act II, scene vii.
  • To send the injur'd unredress'd away,
    How great soe'er th' offender, or the wrong'd
    Howe'er obscure, is wicked—weak and vile:
    Degrades, denies, and should dethrone a king!
    • Act IV, scene ix.


Misattributed

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  • As Love can exquisitely bless,
    Love only feels the marvellous of pain;
    Opens new veins of torture in the soul,
    And wakes the nerve where agonies are born.
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