Walter Scott Quotes
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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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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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Along thy wild and willow'd shore.
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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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It is a strong castle, and strongly guarded; but there is no impossibility to brave men.
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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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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 Sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.
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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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November’s sky is chill and drear,November’s leaf is red and sear.
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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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O fading honours of the dead!O high ambition, lowly laid!
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Bluid is thicker than water.
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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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But with the morning cool reflection came.
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Steady of heart, and stout of hand.
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And better had they ne'er been born,Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
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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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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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Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
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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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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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A mother's pride, a father's joy.
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But search the land of living men,Where wilt thou find their like again?