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The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, And leave us nought but grief and pain, For promised joy.
Robert Burns
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Robert Burns
Age: 37 †
Born: 1759
Born: January 25
Died: 1796
Died: July 21
Farmer
Musicologist
Poet
Songwriter
Writer
Robbie Burns
Rabbie Burns
Scotland's favourite son
Ploughman Poet
Robden of Solway Firth
Bard of Ayrshire
The Bard
Robert Burns
Best
Promised
Men
Schemes
Laid
Disappointment
Grief
Leave
Nought
Joy
Gang
Pain
Mice
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The best laid plans take 40 years to complete.
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And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair. Wha does the utmost that he can Will whyles do mair.
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Misled by fancy's meteor ray, By passion driven But yet the light that led astray Was light from heaven.
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See Social-life and Glee sit down, All joyous and unthinking, Till, quite transmugrified, they're grown Debauchery and Drinking
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Oh would some power the gift give us, to see ourselves as others see us!
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Mankind is a science that defies definitions.
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But deep this truth impressed my mind — Thro' all his works abroad, The heart benevolent and kind The most resembles God.
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The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.
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My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
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Why has a religious turn of mind always a tendency to narrow and harden the heart?
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Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die.
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That hour o' night's black arch the keystane.
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Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.
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A women can make an average man great, and a great man average.
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If naebody care for me,I'll care for naebody.
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All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
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Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash Some rhyme to court the countra clash, An' raise a din For me, an aim I never fash I rhyme for fun.
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God knows, I'm no the thing I should be, Nor am I even the thing I could be.
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Good Lord, what is man! for as simple he looks, Do but try to develop his books and his crooks, With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil, All in all, he's a problem must puzzle the devil.
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Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.--Robert Burns
Robert Burns