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With what a deep devotedness of woe I wept thy absence - o'er and o'er again Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, And memory, like a drop that, night and day, Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!

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
Still
Grew
Falls
Heart
Memories
Drop
Ceaseless
Thinking
Pain
Till
Condolences
Like
Fall
Absence
Wept
Away
Thee
Woe
Night
Memory
Wore
Thought
Deep
Grieving
Stills
Cold
Sympathy

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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 philosopher being asked what was the first thing necessary to win the love of a woman, answered, Opportunity!
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This is the right time, and this is the right thing.
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Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print.
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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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We need people in our lives with whom we can be as open as possible. To have real conversations with people may seem like such a simple, obvious suggestion, but it involves courage and risk.
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It is precisely because we resist the darkness in ourselves that we miss the depths of the loveliness, beauty, brilliance, creativity, and joy that lie at our core.
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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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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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Sweet flowers alone can say what passion fears revealing.
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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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We let a river shower its banks with a spirit that invades the people living there, and we protect that river, knowing that without its blessings the people have no source of soul.
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Usually, the main problem with life conundrums is that we don't bring to them enough imagination
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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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Disappointments in love, even betrayals and losses, serve the soul at the very moment they seem in life to be tragedies. The soul is partly in time and partly in eternity. We might remember the part that resides in eternity when we feel despair over the part that is in life.
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It may help us, in those times of trouble, to remember that love is not only about relationship, it is also an affair of the soul.
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How many times do we lose an occasion for soul work by leaping ahead to final solutions without pausing to savor the undertones? We are a radically bottom-line society, eager to act and to end tension, and thus we lose opportunities to know ourselves for our motives and our secrets.
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Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
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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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Bastard Freedom waves Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
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