Cats are a very mysterious kind of folk. There is always more passing in their minds than we are aware of.
WALTER SCOTTTo the timid and hesitating everything is impossible because it seems so.
More Walter Scott Quotes
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One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name.
WALTER SCOTT -
Great talent has always a little madness mixed up with it.
WALTER SCOTT -
I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!
WALTER SCOTT -
Greatness of any kind has no greater foe than a habit of drinking.
WALTER SCOTT -
He that climbs a ladder must begin at the first round.
WALTER SCOTT -
Without courage there cannot be truth, and without truth there can be no other virtue.
WALTER SCOTT -
Cats are a mysterious kind of folk.
WALTER SCOTT -
It is only when I dally with what I am about, look back and aside, instead of keeping my eyes straight forward, that I feel these cold sinkings of the heart.
WALTER SCOTT -
Who, like ambition, lures men to their ruin.
WALTER SCOTT -
Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.
WALTER SCOTT -
Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.
WALTER SCOTT -
Where is the coward that would not dare to fight for such a land as Scotland?
WALTER SCOTT -
The paths of virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, are always those of pleasantness and peace.
WALTER SCOTT -
Do not Christians and Heathens, and Jews and Gentiles, and poets and philosophers, unite in allowing the starry influences?
WALTER SCOTT -
November’s sky is chill and drear, November’s leaf is red and sear.
WALTER SCOTT -
And better had they ne’er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
WALTER SCOTT -
Many a law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word never.
WALTER SCOTT -
As long as the Fates permit, live cheerfully.
WALTER SCOTT -
Commend me to sterling honesty though clad in rags.
WALTER SCOTT -
To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
WALTER SCOTT -
Steady of heart and stout of hand.
WALTER SCOTT -
The willow which bends to the tempest often escapes better than the oak which resists it.
WALTER SCOTT -
The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?
WALTER SCOTT -
If you once turn on your side after the hour at which you ought to rise, it is all over. Bolt up at once.
WALTER SCOTT -
Silence, maiden; thy tongue outruns thy discretion.
WALTER SCOTT -
Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!
WALTER SCOTT