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Woe to the youth whom Fancy gains, Winning from Reason's hand the reins, Pity and woe! for such a mind Is soft contemplative, and kind.

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
Reason
Soft
Kind
Fancy
Mind
Pity
Gains
Youth
Hand
Reins
Winning
Contemplative
Hands
Woe

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Many a law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word never.
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November's sky is chill and drear, November's leaf is red and sear.
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Ridicule often checks what is absurd, and fully as often smothers that which is noble.
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For Love will still be lord of all.
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Each must drain His share of pleasure, share of pain.
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Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.
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I have heard men talk about the blessings of freedom, he said to himself, but I wish any wise man would teach me what use to make of it now that I have it.
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Good wine needs neither bush nor preface to make it welcome. And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd.
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For he that does good, having the unlimited power to do evil, deserves praise not only for the good which he performs, but for the evil which he forbears.
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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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Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life.
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What can they see in the longest kingly line in Europe, save that it runs back to a successful soldier?
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When true friends meet in adverse hour 'Tis like a sunbeam through a shower. A watery way an instant seen, The darkly closing clouds between.
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Wounds sustained for the sake of conscience carry their own balsam with the blow.
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We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.
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Will future ages believe that such stupid bigotry ever existed!
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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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Every hour has its end.
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Warriors! and where are warriors found, If not on martial Britain's ground? And who, when waked with note of fire, Love more than they the British lyre?
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O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive!
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