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Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star.

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
Love
Lovers
Life
Star
Western
West
Blue
Eyes
Stars
Afar
Eye
Sought

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In that pleasant district of merry England which is watered by the river Don, there extended in ancient times a large forest, covering the greater part of the beautiful hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield and the pleasant town of Doncaster.
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The chain of friendship, however bright, does not stand the attrition of constant close contact.
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And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
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In love quarrels the party that loves the most is always most willing to acknowledge the greater fault.
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Love will subsist on wonderfully little hope but not altogether without it.
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As long as the Fates permit, live cheerfully.
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Affection can withstand very severe storms of vigor, but not a long polar frost of indifference.
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O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?
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Silence, maiden thy tongue outruns thy discretion.
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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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Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er.
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Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!
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To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
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Cats are a mysterious kind of folk.
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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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He that would soothe sorrow must not argue on the vanity of the most deceitful hopes.
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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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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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Sensibility is nature's celestial spring.
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We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.
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