165 Quotes by Thomas Gray

To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.

To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.

What female heart can gold despise? What cat 's averse to fish?

Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death?

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters gold.

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

Rich with the spoils of time.