Related:

• The mind of the bigot is like the pupil of the eye.
  The more light you pour upon it, the more it will contract....
• To live and die in scenes like this, With some we 've left behind us.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- As slow our Ship...
• 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.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Fly not ye...
• And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Oh breathe not his Name...
• 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.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Corruptio...
• Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun, Grow pure by being purely shone upon.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Lalla Rookh, The Veiled Prophet of Khorassa...
• Truth, like a torch, the more it's shook it shines.
  Sir William Hamilton ['Discussions on Philosophy', 1852]...
• How shall we rank thee upon glory's page, Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage?
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- To Thomas Hume...
• It seems that nature has concealed at the bottom of our minds, talents and abilities of which we are not aware.
  The passions alone have the privilege of bringing them to light, and of giving us sometimes views more certain and more perfect than art could possible produce....