On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I, No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray. — Thomas Campbell Copy Share Image
It's not about the body; you are consciousness. That's what you are. Your consciousness is already out of your body. You don't need to… — Thomas Campbell Copy Share Image
The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man. — Thomas Campbell Copy Share Image
The being level speaks the language of art, music, color shape and pattern directly -- a language that requires no words -- is not… — Thomas Campbell Copy Share Image
On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. — Thomas Campbell Copy Share Image
But sad as angels for the good man's sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in. — Thomas Campbell Copy Share Image
Love! the surviving gift of Heaven, The choicest sweet of Paradise, In life's else bitter cup distilled. — Thomas Campbell Copy Share Image
