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So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like young Lochinvar.
Walter Scott
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Walter Scott
Age: 61 †
Born: 1771
Born: August 15
Died: 1832
Died: September 21
Baronet Scott
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Walter Skott
Jedediah Cleishbotham
Laurence Templeton
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Sir Walter Scott
Sir Walter Scott
1st Baronet
Great Magician
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More quotes by Walter Scott
If you keep a thing seven years, you are sure to find a use for it.
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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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Now, it is well known, that a man may with more impunity be guilty of an actual breach either of real good breeding or of good morals, than appear ignorant of the most minute point of fashionable etiquette.
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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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Call it not vain: they do not err Who say that when the poet dies Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies.
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The paths of virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, are always those of pleasantness and peace.
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Silence, maiden thy tongue outruns thy discretion.
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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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Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er.
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Here is neither want of appetite nor mouths, Pray heaven we be not scant of meat or mirth.
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Faces that have charmed us the most escape us the soonest.
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Literature is a great staff, but a very sorry crutch.
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The willow which bends to the tempest often escapes better than the oak which resists it.
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The most learned, acute, and diligent student cannot, in the longest life, obtain an entire knowledge of this one volume.
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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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Come forth, old man,--thy daughter's side Is now the fitting place for thee: When time has quell'd the oak's bold pride, The youthful tendril yet may hide, The ruins of the parent tree.
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A thousand fearful images and dire suggestions glance along the mind when it is moody and discontented with itself. Command them to stand and show themselves, and you presently assert the power of reason over imagination.
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For Love will still be lord of all.
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Look at a gown of gold, and you will at least get a sleeve of it.
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