Quotes from George Crabbe

Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead, To find such numbers who will serve instead: And in whatever state a man be thrown, 'Tis that precisely they would wish their own.

Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme? Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread, By winding myrtle round your ruin'd shed?

Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd; Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd; The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd, And ease of heart her every look convey'd.

Our farmers round, well pleased with constant gain, Like other farmers, flourish and complain.

Against her foes Religion well defends Her sacred truths, but often fears her friends.

"Lawyers Are": By law's dark by-ways he has stored his mind with wicked knowledge on how to cheat mankind.

Learning is better worth than houses or land.

Fashion, though Folly's child, and guide of fools, Rules e'en the wisest, and in learning rules.

Deceivers are the most dangerous members of society. They trifle with the best affections of our nature, and violate the most sacred obligations.

Be there a will, and wisdom finds a way.

Ease leads to habit, as success to ease. He lives by rule who lives himself to please.

To show the world what long experience gains, requires not courage, though it calls for pains; but at life's outset to inform mankind is a bold effort of a valiant mind.

Old Peter Grimes made fishing his employ; His wife he cabined with him and his boy, And seemed that life laborious to enjoy.

Life is not measured by the time we live.

The game is never lost till won.

Temp'rate in every place--abroad, at home, Thence will applause, and hence will profit come; And health from either--he in time prepares For sickness, age, and their attendant cares.

Shall he who soars, inspired by loftier views, Life's little cares and little pains refuse? Shall he not rather feel a double share Of mortal woe, when doubly arm'd to bear?

Life's bloomy flush was lost.

Let's learn to live, for we must die alone.

In her experience all her friends relied, Heaven was her help and nature was her guide.

Oh, rather give me commentators plain, Who with no deep researches vex the brain; Who from the dark and doubtful love to run, And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.

Void of all honor, avaricious, rash, The daring tribe compound their boasted trash Tincture of syrup, lotion, drop, or pill; All tempt the sick to trust the lying bill.

A master passion is the love of news.

To sigh, yet not recede; to grieve, yet not repent.