Walter Scott Quotes
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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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Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!
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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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Success - keeping your mind awake and your desire asleep.
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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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When thinking about companions gone, we feel ourselves doubly alone.
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If you keep a thing seven years, you are sure to find a use for it.
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Such is the custom of Branksome Hall.
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Where's the coward that would not dareTo fight for such a land?
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There is a vulgar incredulity, which in historical matters, as well as in those of religion, finds it easier to doubt than to examine.
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I was not always a man of woe.
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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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Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth,When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
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My dear, be a good man - be virtuous - be religious - be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here. ...God bless you all.
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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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Art thou a friend to Roderick?
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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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And ne'er did Grecian chisel traceA Nymph, a Naiad, or a GraceOf finer form or lovelier face.
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Thou and I are but the blind instruments of some irresistible fatality, that hurries us along, like goodly vessels driving before the storm, which are dashed against each other, and so perish.
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Where, where was Roderick then!One blast upon his bugle-hornWere worth a thousand men.
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As old as the hills.
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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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All men who have turned out worth anything have had the chief hand in their own education.