Walter Scott Quotes
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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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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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I was not always a man of woe.
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But with the morning cool reflection came.
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Along thy wild and willow'd shore.
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It is a strong castle, and strongly guarded; but there is no impossibility to brave men.
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Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth,When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
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Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,Through all the wide Border his steed was the best.
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I cannot tell how the truth may be;I say the tale as 'twas said to me.
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Recollect that the Almighty, who gave the dog to be companion of our pleasures and our toils, hath invested him with a nature noble and incapable of deceit.
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Where's the coward that would not dareTo fight for such a land?
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November’s sky is chill and drear,November’s leaf is red and sear.
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O fading honours of the dead!O high ambition, lowly laid!
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The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
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Call it not vain;-they do not err,Who say, that when the Poet dies,Mute Nature mourns her worshipper,And celebrates his obsequies.
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The Sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.
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Bluid is thicker than water.
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Steady of heart, and stout of hand.
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Some feelings are to mortals givenWith less of earth in them than heaven;And if there be a human tearFrom passion's dross refined and clear,A tear so limpid and so meekIt would not stain an angel's cheek,'Tis that which pious fathers shedUpon a duteous daughter's head!
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And better had they ne'er been born,Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
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A light on Marmion’s visage spread,And fired his glazing eye:With dying hand, above his head,He shook the fragment of his blade,And shouted 'Victory!-Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!'Were the last words of Marmion.
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Oh, Brignal banks are wild and fair,And Greta woods are green,And you may gather garlands thereWould grace a summer's queen.
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Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and brightAs in that well-remember'd nightWhen first thy mystic braid was wove,And first my Agnes whisper'd love.
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Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.