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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| ea80aba | Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,--but far above the great. | Thomas Gray | ||
| f9d2ea1 | Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade. | Thomas Gray | ||
| 47d15ee | Ah, tell them they are men! | Thomas Gray | ||
| 7a110c5 | Grim-visaged comfortless Despair. | Thomas Gray | ||
| 2de7886 | And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe. | Thomas Gray | ||
| 8d7d23b | We uphold | Unitarian Universalism | ||
| e33aa32 | What female heart can gold despise? What cat's averse to fish? | Thomas Gray | ||
| bb416ec | Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The moping owl does to the moon complain. | Thomas Gray | ||
| 92dbbb2 | Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. | Thomas Gray | ||
| ef6957e | Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. | Thomas Gray | ||
| bc60af5 | Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind. | Thomas Gray | ||
| 76909ce | And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. | Thomas Gray | ||
| 8d87d85 | E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires. | Thomas Gray | ||
| ef2f981 | Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. | Thomas Gray | ||
| 5fdb1dc | To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. | Thomas Gray | ||
| 90081b1 | Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes; Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart. | Thomas Gray | ||
| c77fac0 | Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed. | Thomas Gray | ||
| f094199 | Visions of glory, spare my aching sight, Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! | Thomas Gray | ||
| 9ec54e0 | These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 740f7f9 | To discover evil in a new friend is to most people only an additional experience | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 0b3dfd3 | Good, but not religious-good. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 9133b2a | Work hard and be poor, do nothing and get more. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 35c0f6a | Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 10beaa8 | Like the British Constitution, she owes her success in practice to her inconsistencies in principle. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 02deadf | You calculated how to be uncalculating, and are natural by art! | Thomas Hardy | ||
| ef5c0c6 | See what deceits love sows in honest minds! | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 716eaf3 | To find beauty in ugliness is the province of the poet. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 94f2f7f | Ah, no; the years, the years; Down their carved names the raindrop plows. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 27cf9fa | This is the weather the shepherd shuns, And so do I. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 2c20956 | Ah," she said to herself, "want of an object to live for--that's all is the matter with me!" | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 133295b | How bewitched I was! How could there be any good in a woman that everybody spoke ill of? | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 5ff2077 | Who is such a reprobate as I! And yet it seems that even I be in Somebody's hand! | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 04639bf | All that blooth means heavy autumn work for him and his hands. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| ccad261 | 'Twas a little one-eyed, blinking sort o' place. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| c53496b | Patience, that blending of moral courage with physical timidity. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 18fcd32 | Done because we are too menny. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| fe956b3 | Do not do an immoral thing for moral reasons! | Thomas Hardy | ||
| cf0c1a1 | It works unconsciously, as heretofore, Eternal artistries in Circumstance. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 608abc6 | Why doth IT so and so, and ever so, voiceless Turner of the Wheel? | Thomas Hardy | ||
| bb88d4b | A local cult, called Christianity. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 89570ad | Aggressive Fancy working spells Upon a mind o'erwrought. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 40615a3 | Ere systemed suns were globed and lit The slaughters of the race were writ. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 35515c4 | My argument is that War makes rattling good history; but Peace is poor reading. | Thomas Hardy | ||
| 575e044 | I'd be a butterfly born in a bower,Where roses and lilies and violets meet. | Thomas Haynes Bayly |