165 Quotes by Thomas Gray

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!

Commerce changes the fate and genius of nations.

The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring.

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, he had not the method of making a fortune.

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.

And weep the more, because I weep in vain.

He gave to misery (all he had) a tear.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault / The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.