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Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.

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
Honest
Homicide
Making
Sits
Makes
Gang
Play
Honour
Men
Decent
Credit
Street
Gangs
Streets
Fray

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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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Some touch of Nature's genial glow.
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There never will exist anything permanently noble and excellent in the character which is a stranger to resolute self-denial.
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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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In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying.
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I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!
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Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.
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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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Where is the coward that would not dare to fight for such a land as Scotland?
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Ridicule often checks what is absurd, and fully as often smothers that which is noble.
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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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Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!
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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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Cats are a mysterious kind of folk.
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He turn'd his charger as he spake, Upon the river shore, He gave his bridle reins a shake, Said, Adieu for evermore, my love, And adieu for evermore.
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He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit, He that leaps the wide gulf should prevail in his suit.
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For success, attitude is equally as important as ability.
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I cannot tell how the truth may be I say the tale as it was said to me.
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Come forth, old man,--thy daughter's side Is now the fitting place for thee: When time has quell'd the oak's bold pride, The youthful tendril yet may hide, The ruins of the parent tree.
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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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