Walter Scott

Recollect that the Almighty, who gave the dog to be companion of our pleasures and our toils, hath invested him with a nature noble and incapable of deceit.

Fortune may raise up or abase the ordinary mortal, but the sage and the soldier should have minds beyond her control.

Rouse the lion from his lair.

Blessed be His name, who hath appointed the quiet night to follow the busy day, and the calm sleep to refresh the wearied limbs and to compose the troubled spirit!

The playbill, which is said to have announced the tragedy of Hamlet, the character of the Prince of Denmark being left out.

Those who follow the banners of Reason are like the well-disciplined battalion, which, wearing a more sober uniform, and making a less dazzling show, than the light troops commanded by Imagination, enjoy more safety, and even more honour, …

Tell that to the marines—the sailors won't believe it.

You will, I trust, resemble a forest plant, which has, indeed, by some accident, been brought up in the greenhouse, and thus rendered delicate and effeminate, but which regains its native firmness and tenacity, when exposed for a season to …

Look to a gown of gold, and you will at least get a sleeve of it.

Ridicule, the weapon of all others most feared by enthusiasts of every description, and which, from its predominance over such minds, often checks what is absurd, and fully as often smothers that which is noble.

Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea.

It is a strong castle, and strongly guarded; but there is no impossibility to brave men.

The pith of conversation does not consist in exhibiting your own superior knowledge on matters of small consequence, but in enlarging, improving, and correcting the information you possess, by the authority of others.

"Lambe them, lads! lambe them!" a cant phrase of the time derived from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an astrologer and quack, who was knocked on the head by the rabble in Charles the First's time.

I am she, O most bucolical juvenal, under whose charge are placed the milky mothers of the herd.

Meat eaten without either mirth or music is ill of digestion.

Spur not an unbroken horse; put not your ploughshare too deep into new land.

And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.

Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!

As old as the hills.

But with the morning cool reflection came.

The happy combination of fortuitous circumstances.

You have power, rank, command, influence; we have wealth, the source both of our strength and weakness; the value of these toys, ten times multiplied, would not influence half so much as your slightest wish.

There is yet spirit in him, were it well directed- but, like the Greek fire, it burns whatever approaches it.