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

Thomas Moore

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Thomas Moore
Born: 1779
Born: May 28
Comedy Writer
Composer
Conductor
Historian
Jurist
Lyricist
Musician
Novelist
Performing Artist
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Singer
Songwriter
Writer
Dublin city
Tom Moore
Anacreon Moore
Thomas
the younger Brown
Thomas Little
Thomas Mur
Tomas Mur
Thomas Brown
Thomas Brown the younger
Sorrow
Bring
Heaven
Anguish
Tell
Wounded
Cannot
Sympathy
Earth
Heal
Heart
Healing
Life
Hearts

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All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.
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Go where we may, rest where we will, Eternal London haunts us still.
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The key to seeing the world's soul, and in the process wakening our own, is to get over the confusion by which we think that fact is real and imagination is illusion.
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Romantic love is an illusion. Most of us discover this truth at the end of a love affair or else when the sweet emotions of love lead us into marriage and then turn down their flames.
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A soulmate is someone to whom we feel profoundly connected, as though the communicating and communing that take place between us were not the product of intentional efforts, but rather a divine grace.
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Silence is not an absence of sound but rather a shifting of attention toward sounds that speak to the soul.
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It is only through mystery and madness that the soul is revealed.
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The young May moon is beaming, love. The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love. How sweet to rove, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! - the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
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Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me In exile thy bosom shall still be my home, And thine eyes make my climate wherever we roam.
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Come o'er the sea, Maiden with me, Mine through the sunshine, storms and snows Seasons may roll, But the true soul Burns the same, where'er it goes.
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I thought that the light-house looked lovely as hope, That star on life's tremulous ocean.
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Rich and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her hand she bore.
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The ordinary acts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.
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Sweet flowers alone can say what passion fears revealing.
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Came but for friendship, and took away love.
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The problem in narcissism is not the high ideals and ambitions, it's the difficulty one encounters when trying to give them body.
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Bastard Freedom waves Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
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Every season hath its pleasure Spring may boast her flowery prime, Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
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I have plenty of machinery around me what I really need is a more enchanting world in which to live and work.
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T'is the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone.
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