Walter Scott Quotes
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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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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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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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Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,Through all the wide Border his steed was the best.
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I was not always a man of woe.
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Along thy wild and willow'd shore.
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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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O fading honours of the dead!O high ambition, lowly laid!
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It is a strong castle, and strongly guarded; but there is no impossibility to brave men.
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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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But with the morning cool reflection came.
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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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November’s sky is chill and drear,November’s leaf is red and sear.
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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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Where's the coward that would not dareTo fight for such a land?
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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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The Sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.
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Bluid is thicker than water.
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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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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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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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And better had they ne'er been born,Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
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Steady of heart, and stout of hand.
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Woman's faith and woman's trust,Write the characters in dust.