Quotes from Thomas Moore

From plants that wake when others sleep, from timid jasmine buds that keep their odour to themselves all day, but when the sunlight dies away let the delicious secret out to every breeze that roams about.

While mantling on the maiden's cheek Young roses kindled into thought.

It is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through his regions of enchantment without having a critic, forever, like the old man of the sea, upon his back.

This heart, my own dear mother, bends, With love's true instinct, back to thee!

Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth; Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth.

A philosopher being asked what was the first thing necessary to win the love of a woman, answered, Opportunity!

The ordinary acts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.

I thought that the light-house looked lovely as hope, That star on life's tremulous ocean.

Humility, that low, sweet root, from which all heavenly virtues shoot.

Bastard Freedom waves Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.

My only books were woman's looks, and folly's all they've taught me.

It is only to the happy that tears are a luxury.

A pretty wife is something for the fastidious vanity of a roue to retire upon.

Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.

Socrates and Jesus, two teachers of virtue and love, were executed because of the unsettling, threatening power of their souls, which was revealed in their personal lives and in their words.

In our prayer and meditation we hope for fulfilling ordinary life.

The light, that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing.

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.

The past, the future: - two eternities!

When Time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay, And half our joys renew.

This wretched brain gave way, and I became a wreck at random driven, without one glimpse of reason or heaven.

Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print.

Like ships that have gone down at sea, when heaven was all tranquillity.