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

Thomas Moore

Disguise our bondage as we will, ‘Tis woman, woman, rules us still.
THOMAS MOORE

Bondage Ourselves Rule Woman
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch’d by the thorns.
THOMAS MOORE

Awake Heart Thorn Touch
It is only to the happy that tears are a luxury.
THOMAS MOORE

Happiness Luxury Tears
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
THOMAS MOORE

Anguish Hard Time Healing Heart Heaven Inspirational Wound
And soon, too soon, we part with pain, To sail o’er silent seas again.
THOMAS MOORE

Ourselves Pain Sea Silence
No, there’s nothing half so sweet in life as love’s young dream.
THOMAS MOORE

Dreams Life Young
Oh! blame not the bard.
THOMAS MOORE

Blame One Liner
All that’s bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that’s sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.
THOMAS MOORE

Bright Lost Sweet
The light, that lies In woman’s eyes, Has been my heart’s undoing.
THOMAS MOORE

Heart Light Lying Woman
Ask a woman’s advice, and whatever she advises, Do the very reverse and you’re sure to be wise.
THOMAS MOORE

Advice Herself Woman
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.
THOMAS MOORE

Delicious Light Plant Roam Sun Wake Up
Like ships that have gone down at sea, when heaven was all tranquillity.
THOMAS MOORE

Heaven Sea Tranquility
What though youth gave love and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine.
THOMAS MOORE

Friendship Love Rose Wine Youth
This wretched brain gave way, and I became a wreck at random driven, without one glimpse of reason or heaven.
THOMAS MOORE

Brain Drive Heaven Myself Reason
While mantling on the maiden’s cheek Young roses kindled into thought.
THOMAS MOORE

Rose Thinking Young
Humility, that low, sweet root, from which all heavenly virtues shoot.
THOMAS MOORE

Heaven Humility Shoot Virtue

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

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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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Popular Authors

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