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The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Thomas Gray

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Thomas Gray
Age: 54 †
Born: 1716
Born: December 26
Died: 1771
Died: July 30
Literary Critic
Poet
London
England
Glory
Walking
Path
Elegy
Paths
Grave
Gray
Graves
Lead

More quotes by Thomas Gray

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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.
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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?
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One principal characteristic of vice in the present age is the contempt of fame.
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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.
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Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Thomas Gray
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Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Thomas Gray
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We frolic while 'tis May.
Thomas Gray
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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.
Thomas Gray
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Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Thomas Gray
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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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The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring.
Thomas Gray
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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
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How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
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I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
Thomas Gray
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And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
Thomas Gray
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Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
Thomas Gray
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The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Thomas Gray
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Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize Nor all that glisters gold.
Thomas Gray
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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
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Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
Thomas Gray