Treasure Island

Thomas Moore

(28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852 / Dublin)

Quotations

  • ''"Come, come" said Tom's father, "at your time of life,
    There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake—
    It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife."
    "Why, so it is, father—whose wife shall I take?"''
    Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. "A Joke Versified."
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  • ''At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
    To the lone vale we loved when life was warm in thine eye,''
    Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. At the Mid Hour of Night (l. 1-2). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''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.''
    Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.
  • ''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 turned when he rose.''
    Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms (l. 13-16). . . Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.
  • ''A pretty wife is something for the fastidious vanity of a roué to retire upon.''
    Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. quoted by Lord Byron in a letter, Jan. 16, 1814. Byron's Letters and Journals, vol. 4 (1975).
  • ''Money is like sex. Some people believe that the more sexual experiences they have, with as many different people as possible, the more fulfilled they will be. But even great quantities of money and sex may not satisfy the craving. The problem lies not in having too much or too little, but in taking money literally, as a fetish rather than as a medium. If wealth is found by rejecting the experience of poverty, then it will never be complete. The soul is nurtured by want as much as by plenty.''
    Thomas Moore (b. 1940), U.S. psychotherapist, author, lecturer. Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life, ch. 9, HarperCollins (1992).
  • ''Both envy and jealousy are common experiences. They are entirely different feelings, one a desire for what another person has, the other fear that the other person will take what we have, but they both have a corrosive effect on the heart. Either emotion can make a person feel ugly. There is nothing noble in either of them. At the same time, a person may feel oddly attached to them. The jealous person takes some pleasure in his suspicions, and the envious person feeds on his desire for what others possess.''
    Thomas Moore (b. 1940), U.S. psychotherapist, author. Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life, ch. 5, HarperCollins (1992).
  • ''Heaven grant him now some noble nook,
    For, rest his soul! he'd rather be
    Genteelly damn'd beside a Duke,
    Than sav'd in vulgar company.''
    Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. "Epitaph on a Tuft-Hunter."
  • ''Oft, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me.''
    Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. repr. In Moore's Poetical Works, ed. A.D. Godley (1910). "Oft in the Stilly Night," National Airs (1815).
  • ''Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
    Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid.''
    Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet. Oh! Breathe Not His Name (l. 1-2). . . English Romantic Poetry and Prose. Russell Noyes, ed. (1956) Oxford University Press.

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Fill the Bumper Fair

Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.
Wit's electric flame
Ne'er so swiftly passes,
As when through the frame
It shoots from brimming glasses.
Fill the bumper fair!

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