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Blessed be his name, who hath appointed the quiet night to follow the busy day, and the calm sleep to refresh the wearied limbs and to compose the troubled spirit.

Walter Scott

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Walter Scott
Age: 61 †
Born: 1771
Born: August 15
Died: 1832
Died: September 21
Baronet Scott
Biographer
Historian
Judge
Lawyer
Linguist
Literary Critic
Musicologist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Translator
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
Name
Troubled
Sleep
Limbs
Names
Hath
Spirit
Calm
Night
Busy
Wearied
Blessed
Refresh
Follow
Compose
Quiet
Appointed

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Covetousness bursts the sack and spills the grain.
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What a strange scene if the surge of conversation could suddenly ebb like the tide, and show us the real state of people's minds.
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What can they see in the longest kingly line in Europe, save that it runs back to a successful soldier?
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Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.
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For success, attitude is equally as important as ability.
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Meat eaten without either mirth or music is ill of digestion.
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Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.
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In man's most dark extremity Oft succour dawns from Heaven.
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Never was flattery lost on a poet's ear a simple race, they waste their toil for the vain tribute of a smile.
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Methinks I will not die quite happy without having seen something of that Rome of which I have read so much.
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We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.
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Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er.
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I will but confess the sins of my green cloak to my grey friar's frock, and all shall be well again.
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Love will subsist on wonderfully little hope but not altogether without it.
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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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Chess is a sad waste of brains.
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Charge, Chester, charge! on, Stanley, on! Were the last words of Marmion.
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For love is heaven and heaven is love.
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Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!
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