Walter Scott Quotes
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On his bold visage middle ageHad slightly pressed its signet sage,Yet had not quenched the open truthAnd fiery vehemence of youth;Forward and frolic glee was there,The will to do, the soul to dare,The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire,Of hasty love or headlong ire.
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Who o'er the herd would wish to reign,Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain!Vain as the leaf upon the stream,And fickle as a changeful dream;Fantastic as a woman's mood,And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood.Thou many-headed monster thing,Oh who would wish to be thy king!
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Thus aged men, full loth and slow,The vanities of life forego,And count their youthful follies o'er,Till Memory lends her light no more.
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There is yet spirit in him, were it well directed- but, like the Greek fire, it burns whatever approaches it.
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Within that awful volume liesThe mystery, of mysteries!
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Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be ay sticking in a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye're sleeping.
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But woe awaits a country whenShe sees the tears of bearded men.
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Come as the winds come, whenForests are rended,Come as the waves come, whenNavies are stranded.
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In the lost battle,Borne down by the flying,Where mingles war's rattleWith groans of the dying.
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The wind breath'd soft as lover's sigh,And, oft renew'd, seem'd oft to die, With breathless pause between,O who, with speech of war and woes,Would wish to break the soft repose Of such enchanting scene!
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For he that does good, having the unlimited power to do evil, deserves praise not only for the good which he performs, but for the evil which he forbears.
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Where, where was Roderick then!One blast upon his bugle-hornWere worth a thousand men.
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'Lambe them, lads! lambe them!' a cant phrase of the time derived from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an astrologer and quack, who was knocked on the head by the rabble in Charles the First's time.
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He’s expected at noon, and no wight till he comesMay profane the great chair, or the porridge of plums;For the best of the cheer, and the seat by the fire,Is the undenied right of the Barefooted Friar.
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If you keep a thing seven years, you are sure to find a use for it.
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Pax vobiscum will answer all queries. If you go or come, eat or drink, bless or ban, Pax vobiscum carries you through it all. It is as useful to a friar as a broom-stick to a witch, or a wand to a conjuror.
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There's a gude time coming.
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So shall he strive, in changeful hue,Field, feast, and combat, to renew,And loves, and arms, and harpers' glee,And all the pomp of chivalry.
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All men who have turned out worth anything have had the chief hand in their own education.
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And ne'er did Grecian chisel traceA Nymph, a Naiad, or a GraceOf finer form or lovelier face.
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Chivalry!-why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection-the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant-Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword.
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The way was long, the wind was cold,The Minstrel was infirm and old;His withered cheek, and tresses gray,Seemed to have known a better day.
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He is the best sailor who can steer within fewest points of the wind, and exact a motive power out of the greatest obstacles.
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I was not always a man of woe.