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The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?
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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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
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More quotes by Walter Scott
Stood for his country's glory fast, And nailed her colors to the mast!
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Lightly from fair to fair he flew, And loved to plead, lament, and sue Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
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When a man has not a good reason for doing a thing, he has one good reason for letting it alone.
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There never will exist anything permanently noble and excellent in the character which is a stranger to resolute self-denial.
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Merrily, merrily goes the bark On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea.
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Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the Shore of a dark Scottish lake.
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And children know, Instinctive taught, the friend and foe.
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Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!
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Certainly, quoth Athelstane, women are the least to be trusted of all animals, monks and abbots excepted.
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Where lives the man that has not tried How mirth can into folly glide, And folly into sin!
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But with morning cool repentance came.
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There is a southern proverb - fine words butter no parsnips.
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I was born a Scotsman and a bare one. Therefore I was born to fight my way in the world.
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In man's most dark extremity Oft succour dawns from Heaven.
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Well, then--our course is chosen--spread the sail-- Heave oft the lead, and mark the soundings well-- Look to the helm, good master--many a shoal Marks this stern coast, and rocks, where sits the Siren Who, like ambition, lures men to their ruin.
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The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have know a better day.
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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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Spangling the wave with lights as vain As pleasures in the vale of pain, That dazzle as they fade.
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It is wonderful what strength of purpose and boldness and energy of will are roused by the assurance that we are doing our duty.
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Ambition is no cure for love!
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