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Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! Fight on death is better than defeat! Fight on brave knights! for bright eyes behold your deeds!

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
Men
Fight
Eyes
Knights
Dies
Behold
Fighting
Bright
Eye
Deeds
Lives
Defeat
Death
Brave
Better
Glory

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Oh, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer's queen.
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Heaven know its time the bullet has its billet
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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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...crystal and hearts would lose all their merit in the world if it were not for their fragility.
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True love's the gift which God has given to man alone beneath the heaven.
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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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One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name
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Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.
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For he that does good, having the unlimited power to do evil, deserves praise not only for the good which he performs, but for the evil which he forbears.
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Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll, And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole, Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids them fly, Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky. Then let the good Thy mighty name revere, And hardened sinners Thy just vengeance fear.
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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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Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.
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Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.
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Sleep in peace, and wake in joy.
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Where shall the lover rest, Whom the fates sever From his true maiden's breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high, Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die, Under the willow.
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And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
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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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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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I have heard men talk about the blessings of freedom, he said to himself, but I wish any wise man would teach me what use to make of it now that I have it.
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A rusted nail, placed near the faithful compass, Will sway it from the truth, and wreck the argosy.
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