Zitate von Thomas Moore

Informationen über Thomas Moore

Schriftsteller, "Irische Melodien", "Lalla Rookh", "The History of Ireland", "The Fudge Family in Paris" (Irland, 1779 - 1852).

Thomas Moore · Geburtsdatum · Sterbedatum

Thomas Moore wäre heute 245 Jahre, 5 Monate, 19 Tage oder 89.657 Tage alt.

Geboren am 28.05.1779 in Dublin
Gestorben am 25.02.1852 in Sloperton Cottage/Devizes
Sternzeichen: ♊ Zwillinge

• Musik, bei deinen Zauberklängen erscheint uns Sprache arm und kalt!
  • Sprache

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• Pflicht heißt die Handlung, die mehr Gutes in der Welt hervorzubringen vermag als jeder andere Entschluß.
  • Engagement
  • Welt
  • Entscheidung(en)

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• Was wäre die Liebe, die alles vermag, wenn gleich sie nicht bliebe in Ruhm und in Schmach? Ich frage Dein Herz nicht, ob schuldig es ist. Ich weiß nur, ich liebe Dich, was Du auch bist.
  • Ruhm
  • Liebe
  • Esoterik

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• Wenn man eine Gattin wählt, so ist das, als ob man in einen Sack greift, in dem hundert Schlangen sind und unter ihnen ist ein Aal - nun hoffe du, dass du den Aal erwischest.
  • Heiteres - Ironisches - Zum Schmunzeln

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• Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly today, Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms, Like fairy gifts fading away! Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still.

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• But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last.

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• Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.

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• For you know, dear-I may, without vanity, hint- Though an angel should write, still 'tis devils must print.

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• Humility, that low, sweet root, From which all heavenly virtues shoot.

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• Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips!

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• My only books Were woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me.

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• No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose.

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• No, there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.

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• Oft, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me.

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• Oh! blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers, Where Pleasure lies, carelessly smiling at Fame.

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• Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonoured his relics are laid.

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• Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die!

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• Rich and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.

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• The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. - So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er; And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more.

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• The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him.

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