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The sickening pang of hope deferr'd.

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
Sickening
Pang
Hope

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True love's the gift which God has given to man alone beneath the heaven.
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O woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!
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The race of mankind would perish did they cease to aid each other. We cannot exist without mutual help. All therefore that need aid have a right to ask it from their fellow-men and no one who has the power of granting can refuse it without guilt.
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He turn'd his charger as he spake, Upon the river shore, He gave his bridle reins a shake, Said, Adieu for evermore, my love, And adieu for evermore.
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A glass of good wine is a gracious creature, and reconciles poor mortality to itself and that is what few things can do.
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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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Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star.
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come he slow or come he fast it is but death that comes at last
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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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November's sky is chill and drear, November's leaf is red and sear.
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Spur not an unbroken horse put not your plowshare too deep into new land.
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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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A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.
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There is a southern proverb - fine words butter no parsnips.
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And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
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Although too much of a soldier among sovereigns, no one could claim with better right to be a sovereign among soldiers.
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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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O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!
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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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As long as the Fates permit, live cheerfully.
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