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The tear, down childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dewdrop on the rose When next the summer breeze comes by And waves the bush, the flower is dry.

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
Summer
Cheeks
Childhood
Tear
Flower
Waves
Tears
Dry
Comes
Bush
Dewdrop
Next
Wave
Cheek
Like
Rose
Flows
Flow
Breeze

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Where lives the man that has not tried How mirth can into folly glide, And folly into sin!
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As long as the Fates permit, live cheerfully.
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Steady of heart and stout of hand.
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All men who have turned out worth anything have had the chief hand in their own education.
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Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star.
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Whose lenient sorrows find relief, whose joys are chastened by their grief.
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come he slow or come he fast it is but death that comes at last
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Will future ages believe that such stupid bigotry ever existed!
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Wounds sustained for the sake of conscience carry their own balsam with the blow.
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What I have to say is far more important than how long my eyelashes are.
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True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven: It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes soon as granted fly It liveth not in fierce desire.
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Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.
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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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Adversity is, to me at least, a tonic and a bracer.
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Spangling the wave with lights as vain As pleasures in the vale of pain, That dazzle as they fade.
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Mankind — the race would perish did they cease to aid each other.
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That day of wrath, that dreadful day. When heaven and earth shall pass away.
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O woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!
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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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