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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.

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
Trying
Books
Crooks
Good
Lord
Puzzle
Men
Simple
Puzzles
Evil
Depths
Problem
Simplicity
Book
Depth
Looks
Develop
Must
Devil
Shallows

More quotes by Robert Burns

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And like a passing thought, she fled In light away.
Robert Burns
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Oh would some power the gift give us, to see ourselves as others see us!
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But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lou'd sae kindly, Had we never lou'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted - We had ne'er been broken hearted
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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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And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway, And mind your duty, duly, morn and night Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore His counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright.
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Now Simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the chrystal streamlets plays Come let us spend the lightsome days In the birks of Aberfeldy.
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Here's to us, who's like us Damn few, and they're all dead.
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The great Creator to revere Must sure become the creature But still the preaching cant forbear, And ev'n the rigid feature: Yet ne'er with wits profane to range Be complaisance extendedAn atheist laugh's a poor exchange For deity offended.
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There's some are fou o' love divine There's some are fou o' brandy.
Robert Burns
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The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
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The wide world is all before us - but a world without a friend.
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Again rejoicing Nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, All freshly steep'd in the morning dews.
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Affliction's sons are brothers in distress A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!
Robert Burns
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Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! Now 's the day and now 's the hour See the front o' battle lour.
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Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o'daisies white Out o'er the grassy lea.
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Suspense is worse than disappointment.
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The best plans of men and mice often go awry.
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Why has a religious turn of mind always a tendency to narrow and harden the heart?
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Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, And then she made the lasses, O!
Robert Burns
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Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Robert Burns