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Thomas Gray quotes
I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
Thomas Gray
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Thomas Gray
[...] where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Thomas Gray
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune.
Thomas Gray
And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
Thomas Gray
Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today.
Thomas Gray
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Thomas Gray
From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take.
Thomas Gray
Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Thomas Gray
He passed 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
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
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown. Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth. And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Thomas Gray
To each his suff'rings: all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan, The tender for another's pain; Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Thomas Gray
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
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Thomas Gray
Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes; Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
Thomas Gray
Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, The bee's collected treasures sweet, Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet The still small voice of gratitude.
Thomas Gray
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
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight, Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
Thomas Gray
And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.
Thomas Gray
When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
Thomas Gray
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
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