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I shall be but a shrimp of an author.

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
Shrimp
Author
Shall

More quotes by Thomas Gray

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O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of love.
Thomas Gray
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Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
Thomas Gray
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To Contemplation's sober eye. / Such is the race of Man.
Thomas Gray
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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
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Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
Thomas Gray
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Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
Thomas Gray
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The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.
Thomas Gray
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Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
Thomas Gray
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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, 'T is folly to be wise.
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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Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Thomas Gray
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We frolic while 'tis May.
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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Ah, tell them they are men!
Thomas Gray
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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
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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
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Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Thomas Gray
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Thought would destroy their paradise.
Thomas Gray
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To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
Thomas Gray
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Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
Thomas Gray