In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and round as an apple is he,
Content with the present whate'er it may be,
While from care and from cash he is equally free,
And merry both night and day!
"Ma foi! I laugh at the world," says he,
"I laugh at the world, and the world laughs at me!"
What a gay little man in gray.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Let me posses what I now have, or even less, so that I may enjoy
my remaining days, if read more
Let me posses what I now have, or even less, so that I may enjoy
my remaining days, if Heaven grant any to remain.
[Lat., Sit mihi quod nunc est, etiam minus et mihi vivam
Quod superest aevi--si quid superesse volunt di.]
Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold?
Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold?
Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past,
And neither fear nor wish th' approaches of the last.
Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past,
And neither fear nor wish th' approaches of the last.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
read more
We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudent to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing read more
Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing hand what is sufficient for his
wants.
[Lat., Multa petentibus
Desunt multa; bene est cui deus obtulit
Parca quod satis est manu.]
There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the River Dee;
He worked and sang, from morn read more
There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the River Dee;
He worked and sang, from morn to night;
No lark so blithe as he.
And this the burden of his song,
Forever used to be,--
"I care for nobody, not I,
If no one cares for me."
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
read more
In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
Are furnish'd as plain as a patriarch's tent,
With all for convenience, but nothing for show:
Like Robinson Crusoe's, both peaceful and pleasant,
By industry stor'd, like the hive of a bee;
And the peer who looks down with contempt on a peasant.
Can ne'er be look'd up to with envy by me.
