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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.

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
Gray
Minstrel
Seemed
Wind
Infirm
Cold
Tresses
Better
Minstrels
Long
Withered
Way
Cheek
Cheeks

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Many a law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word never.
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To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
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Credit is like a looking-glass, which when once sullied by a breath, may be wiped clear again but if once cracked can never be repaired.
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He who indulges his sense in any excesses renders himself obnoxious to his own reason and, to gratify the brute in him, displeases the man, and sets his two natures at variance.
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Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Dream of battled fields no more. Days of danger, nights of waking.
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Where lives the man that has not tried How mirth can into folly glide, And folly into sin!
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True love's the gift which God has given to man alone beneath the heaven.
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Dear to me is my bonnie white steed Oft has he helped me at pinch of need.
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As good play for nothing, you know, as work for nothing.
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Meat eaten without either mirth or music is ill of digestion.
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There never will exist anything permanently noble and excellent in the character which is a stranger to resolute self-denial.
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Here eglantine embalm'd the air, Hawthorne and hazel mingled there The primrose pale, and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower Fox-glove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Group'd their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain.
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War is the only game in which both sides lose.
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Vacant heart, and hand, and eye, Easy live and quiet die.
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Like the dew on the mountain, like the foam on the river, like the bubble on the fountain, thou art gone, and for ever!
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Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, Come saddle your horses, and call up your men Come open the West Port, and let me gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!
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If you keep a thing seven years, you are sure to find a use for it.
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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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There is a southern proverb - fine words butter no parsnips.
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He that follows the advice of reason has a mind that is elevated above the reach of injury that sits above the clouds, in a calm and quiet ether, and with a brave indifferency hears the rolling thunders grumble and burst under his feet.
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