Thomas Moore Quotes

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

When did morning ever break,
And find such beaming eyes awake?

Oh stay! oh stay!
Joy so seldom weaves a chain
Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain
To break its links so soon.

Fly not yet; 't is just the hour
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night
And maids who love the moon.

Though an angel should write, still 't is devils must print.

Good at a fight, but better at a play;
Godlike in giving, but the devil to pay.

Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,
Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.

Who ran
Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all.

There was a little man, and he had a little soul;
And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!

Like a young eagle who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd to wing the dart
Which rank corruption destines for their heart.

The minds of some of our statesmen, like the pupil of the human eye, contract themselves the more, the stronger light there is shed upon them.

I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near;
And I said, "If there's peace to be found in the world,
A heart that was humble might hope for it here."

How shall we rank thee upon glory's page,
Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage?

Where bastard Freedom waves
The fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

Weep on! and as thy sorrows flow,
I 'll taste the luxury of woe.