Quote

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

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Thomas Gray
Age: 54 †
Born: 1716
Born: December 26
Died: 1771
Died: July 30
Literary Critic
Poet
London
England
Best
Wealth
Treasures
Rich
Wins
Winning
Toil
Heaven
Spirits
Peace
Peaceful
Spirit
Treasure
Night
Busy
Light
Health

More quotes by Thomas Gray

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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.
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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Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Thomas Gray
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Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.
Thomas Gray
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How low, how little are the proud, How indigent the great!
Thomas Gray
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The applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes.
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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Now as the Paradisiacal pleasures of the Mahometans consist in playing upon the flute and lying with Houris, be mine to read eternal new romances of Marivaux and Crebillon.
Thomas Gray
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I shall be but a shrimp of an author.
Thomas Gray
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Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions date descry.
Thomas Gray
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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.
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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Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly rising o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.
Thomas Gray
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Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow.
Thomas Gray
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Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
Thomas Gray
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Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and gen'rous shame, Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame.
Thomas Gray
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And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.
Thomas Gray
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The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
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