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Merrily, merrily goes the bark On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea.

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
Bark
Breeze
Sky
Merrily
Sea
Lark
Summer
Larks
Goes
Swan
Morning
Swans
Free
Shoots

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Hard toil can roughen form and face, And want call quench the eye's bright grace.
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The half hour between waking and rising has all my life proved propitious to any task which was exercising my invention... It was always when I first opened my eyes that the desired ideas thronged upon me.
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What is a diary as a rule? A document useful to the person who keeps it. Dull to the contemporary who reads it and invaluable to the student, centuries afterwards, who treasures it.
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For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
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Fortune may raise up or abuse the ordinary mortal, but the sage and the soldier should have minds beyond her control.
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Chess is a sad waste of brains.
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Give me an honest laugher.
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Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.
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Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, morn of toil, nor night of waking.
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The man who is deserving the name is the one whose thoughts and exertions are for others rather than for himself.
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The heart-sick faintness of the hope delayed!
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In the name of God! said Gurth, how came they prisoners? and to whom? Our master was too ready to fight, said the Jester, and Athelstane was not ready enough, and no other person was ready at all.
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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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What I have to say is far more important than how long my eyelashes are.
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Who, noteless as the race from which he sprung, Saved others' names, but left his own unsung.
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O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!
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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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The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears. The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
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The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?
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Where, where was Roderick then? One blast upon his bugle horn Were worth a thousand men.
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