"Thankless" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... be selected for commendation a kindred spirit, a well-wisher, a man after your own heart, a promoter, if I may be bold to say it, of your pursuits. See to it that you catch not the tone of our latter-day philosophers, and be thankless, petulant, and hard of heart, to him that deserves ...
— Works, V1 • Lucian of Samosata
... calls! Come to her! Nay, no more will I be harsh, No more enangered with thee! Thou shalt be Most precious in mine eyes, the one thing left I call mine own! Hark to thy mother! Come!— He turns his face away, and will not! O Thou thankless child, thou image of thy sire, Like him in each false feature, in mine eyes Hateful, as he is! Stay, then, where thou art! I know thee not!—But thou, Absyrtus, child Of my sore travail, with the merry face Of my lost brother whom with bitter tears I mourn, and mild and gentle as ...
— The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. VI. • Editor-in-Chief: Kuno Francke
... Griswold stood to look on. The toilers were negroes, most of them, but with here and there among the blacks and yellows a paler face so begrimed with sweat and dust as to be scarcely distinguishable from the majority. The sight moved Griswold, as thankless toil always did; and he fell to contrasting the hard lot of the laborers with that of the group of passengers looking on idly from the comfortable shade of the saloon-deck awning. Griswold's thought vocalized itself ...
— The Price • Francis Lynde
... he who at dinner always forgot he was minister, and was more gay and thoughtless than all the company, now sits without speaking, and with his eyes fixed for an hour together." Many of his friends implored him to give up the hopeless and thankless task. Walpole still clung to office; still tried new stratagems; planned new combinations; racked {189} his brain for new devices. He actually succeeded in inducing the King to have an offer made to the Prince of Wales of an addition of fifty thousand ...
— A History of the Four Georges, Volume II (of 4) • Justin McCarthy
... lethargy of vice can raise? Where such mild arts can no impression make, War, tumult, noise and fury must awake. Fortune one age with three great chiefs supply'd, Who different ways, by the sword that rais'd 'em dy'd; Crassus's blood, Asia; Africk, Pompey's shed; In thankless Rome, the murder'd Caesar bled. Thus as one soil alone too narrow were, Their glorious dust, and great remains to bear, O're all the earth their scatter'd ruin lyes; Such honours to the mighty dead arise. 'Twixt Naples and Puteoli there is, Deep in the gaping ...
— The Satyricon • Petronius Arbiter
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