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Man yields to custom, as he bows to fate,
In all things ruled—mind, body, and estate;
In pain, in sickness, we for cure apply
To them we know not, and we know not why.

— George Crabbe

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More quotes by George Crabbe

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

Tales of the Hall (1819)

Secrets with girls, like loaded guns with boys,
Are never valued till they make a noise.

Tales of the Hall (1819)

Books cannot always please, however good;
Minds are not ever craving for their food.

The Borough (1810)

Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.

Tales in Verse (1812)

In this fool's paradise he drank delight.

The Borough (1810)

All George Crabbe quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: George Crabbe (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.