Thomas Moore Quotes - Page 2

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.

I have plenty of machinery around me; what I really need is a more enchanting world in which to live and work.

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.

The heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close.

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.

Disguise our bondage as we will, 'Tis woman, woman, rules us still.

Bastard Freedom waves Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

Soul is to be found in the vicinity of taboo.

Good Demeter mothering keeps a child in the heat and passion of life which immortalize and establish soulfulness. Mothering involves not only physical survival and achievement—Demeter's grain and fruit—it is also concerned with guiding a child to his or her unknown depths and the mystery of fate.

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

The devil...the prowde spirite...cannot endure to be mocked.

It is not while beauty And youth are thine own And thy cheeks Unprofaned by a tear That the ferver and faith Of a soul can be known To which time will but Make thee more dear No the heart that has truly loved Never forgets But as truly loves On to the close As the sunflower turns On her god when he sets The same look which She'd turned when he rose.

The problem in narcissism is not the high ideals and ambitions, it's the difficulty one encounters when trying to give them body.

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

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.

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.

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

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