Walter Scott Quotes
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O, Woman! in our hours of ease,Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,And variable as the shadeBy the light quivering aspen made;When pain and anguish wring the brow,A ministering angel thou!
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Look back, and smile on perils past.
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Stood for his country’s glory fast,And nail’d her colours to the mast!
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My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
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A foot more light, a step more true,Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew.
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It's no fish ye're buying, it's men's lives.
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Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the Shore of a dark Scottish lake.
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Each age has deemed the new-born year the fittest time for festal cheer.
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That day of wrath, that dreadful day,When heaven and earth shall pass away,What power shall be the sinner's stay?How shall he meet that dreadful day?
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Heap on more wood!-the wind is chill;But let it whistle as it will,We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
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To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
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Still are the thoughts to memory dear.
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Spur not an unbroken horse; put not your plowshare too deep into new land.
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Revenge is the sweetest morsel to the mouth, that ever was cooked in hell.
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What I have to say is far more important than how long my eyelashes are.
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Fat, fair, and forty.
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Rouse the lion from his lair.
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Widowed wife and wedded maid.
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Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!To all the sensual world proclaim,One crowded hour of glorious lifeIs worth an age without a name.
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Scared out of his seven senses.
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With head upraised, and look intent,And eye and ear attentive bent,And locks flung back, and lips apart,Like monument of Grecian art,In listening mood, she seemed to stand,The guardian Naiad of the strand.
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The stag at eve had drunk his fill,Where danced the moon on Monan's rill,And deep his midnight lair had madeIn lone Glenartney's hazel shade.
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O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!
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Too much rest is rust.