Walter Scott quotes

O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive! (Walter Scott)
One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation.
Walter Scott
Of all vices, drinking is the most incompatible with greatness.
Walter Scott
Is death the last step No, it is the final awakening.
Walter Scott
I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me.
Walter Scott
A lawyer without history or literature is a mechanic, a mere working mason; if he possesses some knowledge of these, he may venture to call himself an architect.
Walter Scott
All men who have turned out worth anything have had the chief hand in their own education.
Walter Scott
There is a vulgar incredulity, which in historical matters, as well as in those of religion, finds it easier to doubt than to examine.
Walter Scott
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!
Walter Scott
When, musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone.
Walter Scott
Teach you children poetry; it opens the mind, lends grace to wisdom and makes the heroic virtues hereditary. (Walter Scott)
To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
Walter Scott
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above: For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
Walter Scott
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.
Walter Scott
But with the morning cool reflection came.
Walter Scott
Thus aged men, full loth and slow, The vanities of life forego, And count their youthful follies o'er, Till Memory lends her light no more.
Walter Scott
In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying.
Walter Scott
The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have know a better day.
Walter Scott
But search the land of living men, Where wilt thou find their like again.
Walter Scott
Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
Walter Scott
Where, where was Roderick then One blast upon his bugle horn Were worth a thousand men. (Walter Scott)
And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
Walter Scott
Come one, come all this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.
Walter Scott
Bluid is thicker than water.
Walter Scott
Cats are a mysterious kind of folk.
Walter Scott