Yuri Harlamov

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Linux is only free if your time has no value.

  • Phone Number *** - **** 7287
  • E-Mailyellowgoose309***@******.***
  • Birthday23 September 1981
  • Education -
  • Address Place du 8 Novembre 1942 No: 7287
  • CityBissone
  • CountrySwitzerland

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Yuri Harlamov have a 995 following and 693 followers. Yuri Harlamov's world rankings is 307. This page is based on Yuri Harlamov's online data & informations. You can find information birth date, place of residence, phone number, address and social media accounts on Yuri Harlamov's page.


Yuri Harlamov's Life Motto

When you see a good person, think of becoming like him. When you see someone not so good, reflect on your own weak points. ..

About Yuri Harlamov

Yuri Harlamov living Place du 8 Novembre 1942 No: 7287 Bissone Switzerland

Like some raw sophister that mounts the pulpit,
So trembles a young poet at a full pit.
Unused to crowds, the parson quakes for fear,
And wonders how the devil he durst come there;
Wanting three talents needful for the place,
Some beard, some learning, and some little grace.
Nor is the puny poet void of care;
For authors, such as our new authors are,
Have not much learning, nor much wit to spare;
And as for grace, to tell the truth, there's scarce one,
But has as little as the very parson:
Both say, they preach and write for your instruction;
But 'tis for a third day, and for induction.
The difference is, that though you like the play,
The poet's gain is ne'er beyond his day;
But with the parson 'tis another case,
He, without holiness, may rise to grace;
The poet has one disadvantage more,
That if his play be dull, he's damned all o'er,
Not only a damn'd blockhead, but damn'd poor.
But dulness well becomes the sable garment;
I warrant that ne'er spoiled a priest's preferment;
Wit's not his business, and as wit now goes,
Sirs, 'tis not so much yours as you suppose,
For you like nothing now but nauseous beaux.
You laugh not, gallants, as by proof appears,
At what his beauship says, but what he wears;
So 'tis your eyes are tickled, not your ears.
The tailor and the furrier find the stuff,
The wit lies in the dress, and monstrous muff.
The truth on 't is, the payment of the pit
Is like for like, clipt money for clipt wit.
You cannot from our absent author hope,
He should equip the stage with such a fop.
Fools change in England, and new fools arise;
For, though the immortal species never dies,
Yet every year new maggots make new flies.
But where he lives abroad, he scarce can find
One fool, for million that he left behind.