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Fond Memory Brings The Light Of Other Days Around Me.

-Thomas Moore

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Fond Memory Brings The

Thomas Moore

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Fond Memory Brings The Light Of Other Days Around Me.

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It's Important To Be Heroic, Ambitious, Productive, Efficient, Creative, And Progressive, But These Qualities Don't Necessarily Nurture Soul. The Soul Has Different Concerns, Of Equal Value: Downtime For Reflection, Conversation, And Reverie; Beauty That Is Captivating And Pleasuring; Relatedness To The Environs And To People; And Any Animal’s Rhythm Of Rest And Activity.

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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.

I Thought That The Light-house Looked Lovely As Hope, That Star On Life's Tremulous Ocean.

It Is Only To The Happy That Tears Are A Luxury.

Bastard Freedom Waves Her Fustian Flag In Mockery Over Slaves.

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.

Like Ships That Have Gone Down At Sea, When Heaven Was All Tranquillity.

Humility, That Low, Sweet Root, From Which All Heavenly Virtues Shoot.

A Pretty Wife Is Something For The Fastidious Vanity Of A Roue To Retire Upon.

Soul Is To Be Found In The Vicinity Of Taboo.

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.

All That's Bright Must Fade, The Brightest Still The Fleetest; All That's Sweet Was Made But To Be Lost When Sweetest.

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.

Go Where We May, Rest Where We Will, Eternal London Haunts Us Still.

A Soul Mate Is Someone To Whom We Feel Profoundly Connected, As Though The Communication And Communing That Take Place Between Us Were Not The Product Of Intentional Efforts, But Rather A Divine Grace. This Kind Of Relationship Is So Important To The Soul That Many Have Said There Is Nothing More Precious In Life.

Here Bring Your Wounded Hearts, Here Tell Your Anguish; Earth Has No Sorrow That Heaven Cannot Heal.

This Wretched Brain Gave Way, And I Became A Wreck At Random Driven, Without One Glimpse Of Reason Or Heaven.

Disguise Our Bondage As We Will, 'tis Woman, Woman, Rules Us Still.

When We Relate To Our Bodies As Having Soul, We Attend To Their Beauty, Their Poetry And Their Expressiveness. Our Very Habit Of Treating The Body As A Machine, Whose Muscles Are Like Pulleys And Its Organs Engines, Forces Its Poetry Underground, So That We Experience The Body As An Instrument And See Its Poetics Only In Illness.

A Friendship That Like Love Is Warm; A Love Like Friendship, Steady.

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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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.

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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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The Heart That Has Truly Loved Never Forgets, But As Truly Loves On To The Close.

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And The Heart That Is Soonest Awake To The Flowers Is Always The First To Be Touch'd By The Thorns.

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Fond Memory Brings The Light Of Other Days Around Me.

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