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O, my luve is like a red, red rose.

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
Love
Like
Simile
Sprung
Red
Rose

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Suspense is worse than disappointment.
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The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
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They never sought in vain that sought the Lord alright!
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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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Here's to us, who's like us Damn few, and they're all dead.
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Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
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The best laid plans take 40 years to complete.
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Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.
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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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God help the teacher, if a man of sensibility and genius, when a booby father presents him with his booby son, and insists on lighting up the rays of science in a fellow's head whose skull is impervious and inaccessible by any other way than a positive fracture with a cudgel.
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There is no such uncertainty as a sure thing.
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For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor.
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If there 's a hole in a' your coats, I rede ye tent it A chiel 's amang ye takin' notes, And, faith, he 'll prent it.
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Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us
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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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All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
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Learn taciturnity and let that be your motto!
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Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.
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Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.
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Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.
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