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I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!

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
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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
Tears
Though
Away
Heart
Rend
Every
Fibre
Bleed
Tear
Folly

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Oh, on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes front clay, Be Thou, O Christ, the sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away.
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Love will subsist on wonderfully little hope but not altogether without it.
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For Love will still be lord of all.
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In listening mood she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand.
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I did not myself set a high estimation on wealth, and had the affectation of most young men of lively imagination, who suppose that they can better dispense with the possession of money, than resign their time and faculties to the labour necessary to acquire it.
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Thou hast had thty day, old dame, but thy sun has long been set. Thou art now the very emblem of an old warhorse turned out on the barren heath thou hast had thy paces in thy time, but now a broken amble is the best of them.
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Well, then--our course is chosen--spread the sail-- Heave oft the lead, and mark the soundings well-- Look to the helm, good master--many a shoal Marks this stern coast, and rocks, where sits the Siren Who, like ambition, lures men to their ruin.
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It is more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle.
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Necessity--thou best of peacemakers, As well as surest prompter of invention.
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Each age has deemed the new-born year the fittest time for festal cheer.
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O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?
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England was merry England, when Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale 'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.
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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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So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like young Lochinvar.
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My dear, be a good man be virtuous be religious be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here. ...God bless you all.
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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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Time rolls his ceaseless course.
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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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Woman's faith and woman's trust, Write the characters in dust.
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Treason seldom dwells with courage.
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