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Love, to her ear, was but a name, Combin'd with vanity and shame Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all Bounded within the cloister wall.
Walter Scott
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Walter Scott
Age: 61 †
Born: 1771
Born: August 15
Died: 1832
Died: September 21
Baronet Scott
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Edinburgh
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Walter Skott
Jedediah Cleishbotham
Laurence Templeton
Somnambulus
Malachi Malagrowther
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Sir Walter Scott
Sir Walter Scott
1st Baronet
Great Magician
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Shame
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More quotes by Walter Scott
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delayed!
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Cats are a very mysterious kind of folk. There is always more passing in their minds than we are aware of.
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Teach you children poetry it opens the mind, lends grace to wisdom and makes the heroic virtues hereditary.
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Guilt, though it may attain temporal splendor, can never confer real happiness the evil consequences of our crimes long survive their commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, forever haunt the steps of the malefactor while the paths of virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, are always those of pleasantness and peace.
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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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Commend me to sterling honesty though clad in rags.
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Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.
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A fool's wild speech confounds the wise.
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To the timid and hesitating everything is impossible because it seems so.
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Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
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And children know, Instinctive taught, the friend and foe.
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Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star.
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Oh, on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes front clay, Be Thou, O Christ, the sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away.
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The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Lock Katrine blue, Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy.
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Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
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A few drops sprinkled on the torch of love make the flame blaze the brighter.
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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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Mellow nuts have the hardest rind.
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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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Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er.
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