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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.

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
Vain
Monarchs
Fairs
Lament
Fair
Lightly
Lived
Flew
Short
Sigh
Loved
Suit
Pain
Seldom
Suits
Plead
Life

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Meat eaten without either mirth or music is ill of digestion.
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Look at a gown of gold, and you will at least get a sleeve of it.
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A sound head, an honest heart, and an humble spirit are the three best guides through time and to eternity.
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He that would soothe sorrow must not argue on the vanity of the most deceitful hopes.
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Ambition is no cure for love!
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When thinking about companions gone, we feel ourselves doubly alone.
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Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.
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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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Sensibility is nature's celestial spring.
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Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above: For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
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Literature is a great staff, but a very sorry crutch.
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Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!
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Nothing is more completely the child of art than a garden.
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Some touch of Nature's genial glow.
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The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?
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What skilful limner e'er would choose To paint the rainbow's varying hues, Unless to mortal it were given To dip his brush in dyes of heaven?
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Chivalry!---why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection---the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant ---Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword.
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So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like young Lochinvar.
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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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Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land.
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