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To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
Walter Scott
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Walter Scott
Age: 61 †
Born: 1771
Born: August 15
Died: 1832
Died: September 21
Baronet Scott
Biographer
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Judge
Lawyer
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Edinburgh
Scotland
Walter Skott
Jedediah Cleishbotham
Laurence Templeton
Somnambulus
Malachi Malagrowther
Sir Walter Scott
Bart.
Sir Walter Scott
Sir Walter Scott
1st Baronet
Great Magician
The Great Unknown
Good
Slumber
Pleasing
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Fair
Dreams
Night
Dream
Slumbers
Light
Goodnight
More quotes by Walter Scott
A lawyer without history or literature is a mechanic, a mere working mason if he possesses some knowledge of these, he may venture to call himself an architect.
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A thousand fearful images and dire suggestions glance along the mind when it is moody and discontented with itself. Command them to stand and show themselves, and you presently assert the power of reason over imagination.
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Will future ages believe that such stupid bigotry ever existed!
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Where is the coward that would not dare to fight for such a land as Scotland?
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England was merry England, when Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale 'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.
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Thus aged men, full loth and slow, The vanities of life forego, And count their youthful follies o'er, Till Memory lends her light no more.
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The man who is deserving the name is the one whose thoughts and exertions are for others rather than for himself.
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Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.
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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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Wounds sustained for the sake of conscience carry their own balsam with the blow.
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'Tis an old tale, and often told But did my fate and wish agree, Ne'er had been read, in story old, Of maiden true betray'd for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like me!
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Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, morn of toil, nor night of waking.
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Still from the sire the son shall hear Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, Of Flodden's fatal field, When shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear, And broken was her shield!
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Look not thou on beauty's charming Sit thou still when kings are arming Taste not when the wine-cup glistens Speak not when the people listens
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There is a southern proverb - fine words butter no parsnips.
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Dear to me is my bonnie white steed Oft has he helped me at pinch of need.
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A sinful heart makes feeble hand.
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If a farmer fills his barn with grain, he gets mice. If he leaves it empty, he gets actors.
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Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!
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Like the dew on the mountain, like the foam on the river, like the bubble on the fountain, thou art gone, and for ever!
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