Vengeance to God alone belongs;
But, when I think of all my wrongs
My blood is liquid flame!
SIR WALTER SCOTT, Marmion
But woe awaits a country, when
She sees the tears of bearded men.
SIR WALTER SCOTT, Marmion
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd and unsung.
SIR WALTER SCOTT, The Lay of the Last Minstrel
The summer dawn's reflected hue
To purple changed Loch 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.
WALTER SCOTT, Lady of the Lake
And better had they ne'er been born,
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
WALTER SCOTT, The Monastery
When a man has not a good reason for doing a thing, he has one good reason for letting it alone.
SIR WALTER SCOTT, attributed, Day's Collacon
But with the morning cool repentance came.
WALTER SCOTT, Rob Roy
Necessity -- thou best of peacemakers,
As well as surest prompter of invention.
WALTER SCOTT, Peveril of the Peak
Literature is a great staff, but a very sorry crutch.
