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Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land.

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
Breathe
Renown
Dead
Forfeit
Land
Breathes
Soul
Patriot
Never
Patriotic
Men
Patriotism
Hath
Native
Minstrels

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We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider every thing as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart.
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We often praise the evening clouds, And tints so gay and bold, But seldom think upon our God, Who tinged these clouds with gold.
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The happy combination of fortuitous circumstances.
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O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood Land of the mountain and the flood!
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Will future ages believe that such stupid bigotry ever existed!
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Where is the coward that would not dare to fight for such a land as Scotland?
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A few drops sprinkled on the torch of love make the flame blaze the brighter.
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Literature is a great staff, but a very sorry crutch.
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Many of our cares are but a morbid way of looking at our privileges
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Guilt, though it may attain temporal splendor, can never confer real happiness the evil consequences of our crimes long survive their commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, forever haunt the steps of the malefactor while the paths of virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, are always those of pleasantness and peace.
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If you once turn on your side after the hour at which you ought to rise, it is all over. Bolt up at once.
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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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Charge, Chester, charge! on, Stanley, on! Were the last words of Marmion.
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Stood for his country's glory fast, And nailed her colors to the mast!
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Success - keeping your mind awake and your desire asleep.
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Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain! Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. Thou many-headed monster thing, Oh who would wish to be thy king!
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Give me an honest laugher.
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Sleep in peace, and wake in joy.
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Of all vices, drinking is the most incompatible with greatness.
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Silence, maiden thy tongue outruns thy discretion.
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