Top 96 Quotes About Thomas Gray
#1. Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;
Nor all that glisters gold.
Thomas Gray
#2. Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possest;
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast.
Thomas Gray
#3. Along the cool sequestered vale of life,
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Thomas Gray
#4. To each his suff'rings: all are men, / Condemn'd alike to groan, / The tender for another's pain; / Th' unfeeling for his own.
Thomas Gray
#5. Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions date descry.
Thomas Gray
#6. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?
Thomas Gray
#7. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Thomas Gray
#8. Where once my careless childhood strayed, / A stranger yet to pain.
Thomas Gray
#9. Alas, regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, nor care beyond today.
Thomas Gray
#10. The insect-youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honied spring,
And float amid the liquid noon!
Thomas Gray
#11. From toil he wins his spirits light, From busy day the peaceful night; Rich, from the very want of wealth, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.
Thomas Gray
#12. When we decided to move West, I worried about how to defend my family and my stock from Indians, but I never worried about inheriting one!"
--from Prairie Grace when Georgia's father Thomas realizes gravely ill Gray Wolf has been left at their doorstep
Marilyn Bay Wentz
#13. They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
Thomas Gray
#14. Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.
Thomas Gray
#15. The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring.
Thomas Gray
#16. He gave to misery (all he had) a tear.
Thomas Gray
#18. He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.
Thomas Gray
#19. T'was Spring, t'was Summer, all was gay Now Autumn bears a cloud brow The flowers of Spring are swept way And Summer fruits desert the bough
Thomas Gray
#20. Sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind.
Thomas Gray
#21. Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Thomas Gray
#22. Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow.
Thomas Gray
#23. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to mis'ry (all he had) a tear, He gained from Heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend.
Thomas Gray
#24. Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.
Thomas Gray
#26. One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.
Thomas Gray
#27. Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Thomas Gray
#28. And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
Thomas Gray
#30. But though the stars were spread across a great reaching blackness, the streets below were bathed in a stale gray dimness which suggested neither night nor day nor any natural phase between them.
Thomas Ligotti
#31. E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
Thomas Gray
#33. Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
Thomas Gray
#34. Man's feeble race what ills await!
Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain,
Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train,
And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate!
Thomas Gray
#35. Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
Thomas Gray
#36. How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
Thomas Gray
#37. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.
Thomas Gray
#38. As to posterity, I may ask what has it ever done to oblige me?
Thomas Gray
#39. The different steps and degrees of education may be compared to the artificer's operations upon marble; it is one thing to dig it out of the quarry, and another to square it, to give it gloss and lustre, call forth every beautiful spot and vein, shape it into a column, or animate it into a statue.
Thomas Gray
#40. Behind the steps that Misery treads Approaching Comfort view: The hues of bliss more brightly glow Chastised by sabler tints of woe, And blended form, with artful strife, The strength and harmony of life.
Thomas Gray
#41. When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
Thomas Gray
#42. You can either follow your dreams or adjust with your society's expectations ... Either way, consequences are uncertain ... the path to glory or the boulevard of mediocrity, both lead to the grave ... Choose what's worthwhile, for the end is the same.
K. Hari Kumar
#43. To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
Thomas Gray
#44. Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?
Thomas Gray
#45. The language of the age is never the language of poetry, except among the French, whose verse, where the thought or image does not support it, differs in nothing from prose.
Thomas Gray
#46. Any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with veracity.
Thomas Gray
#47. Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,-but far above the great.
Thomas Gray
#48. What then is the wisdom of the times called old? Is it the wisdom of gray hairs? No. It is the wisdom of the cradle.
Thomas Browne
#49. What female heart can gold despise? What cat 's averse to fish?
Thomas Gray
#50. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take.
Thomas Gray
#51. And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.
Thomas Gray
#52. Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly rising o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.
Thomas Gray
#53. Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch A broader browner shade; Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech O'er-canopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit, and think.
Thomas Gray
#54. No further seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.
Thomas Gray
#55. And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
Thomas Gray
#56. England, so long mistress of the sea, Where winds and waves confess her sovereignty, Her ancient triumphs yet on high shall bear And reign the sovereign of the conquered air.
Thomas Gray
#58. And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
Thomas Gray
#59. Down here everything was dark, but up there the gray conglomerate was being struck by the final light of day to an unanswerable brilliance.
Thomas Pynchon
#60. If the best man's faults were written on his forehead, he would draw his hat over his eyes.
Thomas Gray
#62. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave
Awaits alike the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Thomas Gray
#64. Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Thomas Gray
#65. The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.
Thomas Gray
#66. Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,/ The bee's collected treasure sweet,/ Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet/ The still small voice of gratitude.
Thomas Gray
#67. Through the metal bars of the jungle gym, she watches two gray squirrels chase each other around a tree. Around and around and around. So gratuitous.
Thomas Pierce
#68. Commerce changes the fate and genius of nations.
Thomas Gray
#70. Amnesia may well be the highest sacrament in the great gray ritual of existence.
Thomas Ligotti
#71. Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
Thomas Gray
#72. A FLOWER THAT SMILES TODAY , TOMORROW DIES. ALL THAT WE WISH TO STAY, TEMPTS AND THEN FILES
Thomas Gray
#73. Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
Thomas Gray
#74. The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes.
Thomas Gray
#75. The time will come, when thou shalt lift thine eyes To watch a long-drawn battle in the skies. While aged peasants, too amazed for words, Stare at the flying fleets of wondrous birds.
Thomas Gray
#76. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Thomas Gray
#77. There are certain scenes that would awe an atheist into belief without the help of any other argument.
Thomas Gray
#78. Visions of glory, spare my aching sight.
Thomas Gray
#80. Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
Thomas Gray
#81. Men will believe anything at all provided they are under no obligation to believe it.
Thomas Gray
#82. Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Thomas Gray
#83. In buskined measures move Pale Grief and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
Thomas Gray
#84. Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
Thomas Gray
#85. Those who knew Benjamin Franklin will recollect that his mind was forever young, his temper ever serene; science, that never grows gray, was always his mistress. He was never without an object, for when we cease to have an object, we become like an invalid in a hospital waiting for death.
Thomas Paine
#86. Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour The bad affright, afflict the best!
Thomas Gray
#87. Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
Thomas Gray
#88. Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, he had not the method of making a fortune.
Thomas Gray
#89. Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.
Thomas Gray
#90. The eyes were large and gray and in a certain light looked soft, gentle, and even innocent. Then the light would change, the innocence would vanish, and the eyes looked like year-old ice.
Ross Thomas
#91. To contemplation's sober eye,
Such is the race of man;
And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began,
Alike the busy and the gay,
But flutter through life's little day.
Thomas Gray
#92. O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move
The bloom of young Desire and purple light of love.
Thomas Gray
#93. Can storied urn, or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
Thomas Gray
#95. Thomas Gray walks as if he had fouled his small- clothes and looks as if he smelt it.
Christopher Smart
#96. The meanest flowret of the vale, / The simplest note that swells the gale, / The common sun, the air, and skies, / To him are opening paradise.
Thomas Gray
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