Walter Scott Quotes
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Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh,The sun has left the lea.The orange flower perfumes the bower,The breeze is on the sea.
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Oh, poverty parts good company.
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Sea of upturned faces.
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We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.
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She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
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Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,Come saddle your horses, and call up your men;Come open the West Port, and let me gang free,And it's room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!
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What can they see in the longest kingly line in Europe, save that it runs back to a successful soldier?
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Tell that to the marines-the sailors won't believe it.
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Her blue eyes sought the west afar,For lovers love the western star.
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Oh for a blast of that dread horn on Fontarabian echoes borne!
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If you once turn on your side after the hour at which you ought to rise, it is all over. Bolt up at once.
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Come one, come all! This rock shall fly from its firm base as soon as I.
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Vacant heart, and hand, and eye,Easy live and quiet die.
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The half hour between waking and rising has all my life proved propitious to any task which was exercising my invention... It was always when I first opened my eyes that the desired ideas thronged upon me.
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And come he slow, or come he fast,It is but Death who comes at last.
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For ne'erWas flattery lost on poet's ear:A simple race! they waste their toilFor the vain tribute of a smile.
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Lightly from fair to fair he flew,And loved to plead, lament, and sue;Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain,For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
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To be ambitious of true honor, of the true glory and perfection of our natures, is the very principle and incentive of virtue.
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Women are but the toys which amuse our lighter hours-ambition is the serious business of life.
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Time rolls his ceaseless course.
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Randolph, thy wreath has lost a rose.
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O Caledonia! stern and wild,Meet nurse for a poetic child!Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,Land of the mountain and the flood!
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One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation.
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War's a fearsome thing. They'll be cunning that catches me at this wark again.