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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.

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
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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
The Great Unknown
Good
Gracious
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Mortality
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Glass
Glasses
Wine
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Poor
Reconcile

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Nothing is more completely the child of art than a garden.
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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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Heap on more wood! - the wind is chill But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
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'Tis an old tale, and often told But did my fate and wish agree, Ne'er had been read, in story old, Of maiden true betray'd for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like me!
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One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name
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We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.
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For success, attitude is equally as important as ability.
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I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives and I am quite satisfied it is in compassion to the human race for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?
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There is a vulgar incredulity, which in historical matters, as well as in those of religion, finds it easier to doubt than to examine.
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All live by seeming. The beggar begs with it, and the gay courtier Gains land and title, rank and rule, by seeming The clergy scorn it not, and the bold soldier Will eke with it his service.--All admit it, All practise it and he who is content With showing what he is, shall have small credit In church, or camp, or state.--So wags the world.
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It is a great disgrace to religion, to imagine that it is an enemy to mirth and cheerfulness, and a severe exacter of pensive looks and solemn faces.
Walter Scott
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As good play for nothing, you know, as work for nothing.
Walter Scott
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To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
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In listening mood she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand.
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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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A rusted nail, placed near the faithful compass, Will sway it from the truth, and wreck the argosy.
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Chess is a sad waste of brains.
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Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, Fever'd the progress of these years, Yet now, days, weeks, and months but seem The recollection of a dream.
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I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!
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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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