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

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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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Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! Fight on death is better than defeat! Fight on brave knights! for bright eyes behold your deeds!
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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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The pith of conversation does not consist in exhibiting your own superior knowledge on matters of small consequence, but in enlarging, improving and correcting the information you possess by the authority of others.
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Good even, good fair moon, good even to thee. I prithee, dear moon, now show to me the form and the features, the speech and degree, of the man that true lover of mine shall be.
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Real valor consists not in being insensible to danger but in being prompt to confront and disarm it.
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...crystal and hearts would lose all their merit in the world if it were not for their fragility.
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Art thou a friend to Roderick?
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We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider every thing as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart.
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Woman's faith and woman's trust, Write the characters in dust.
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Affection can withstand very severe storms of vigor, but not a long polar frost of indifference.
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But woe awaits a country when She sees the tears of bearded men.
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Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.
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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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Where is the coward that would not dare to fight for such a land as Scotland?
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A fool's wild speech confounds the wise.
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God in his goodness sent the grapes To cheer both great and small Little fools will drink too much And great fools none at all!
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Where shall the lover rest, Whom the fates sever From his true maiden's breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high, Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die, Under the willow.
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But search the land of living men, Where wilt thou find their like again?
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He hath a share of man's intelligence, but no share of man's falsehood.
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