Hurry no man’s cattle; you may come to own a donkey yourself.
WALTER SCOTTGreatness of any kind has no greater foe than a habit of drinking.
More Walter Scott Quotes
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A sound head, an honest heart, and an humble spirit are the three best guides through time and to eternity.
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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.
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All men who have turned out worth anything have had the chief hand in their own education.
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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.
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To all, to each, a fair good-night, and pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
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There never will exist anything permanently noble and excellent in the character which is a stranger to resolute self-denial.
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One crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name.
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Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.
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Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life.
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When true friends meet in adverse hour; ‘Tis like a sunbeam through a shower. A watery way an instant seen, The darkly closing clouds between.
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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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Those who are too idle to read, save for the purpose of amusement, may in these works acquire some acquaintance with history, which, however inaccurate, is better than none.
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I like a highland friend who will stand by me not only when I am in the right, but when I am a little in the wrong.
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Welcome as the flowers in May.
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Heap on more wood! – the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.
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I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!
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The will to do, the soul to dare.
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I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as it was said to me.
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Nothing is more completely the child of art than a garden.
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Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land.
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Silence, maiden; thy tongue outruns thy discretion.
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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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He that climbs a ladder must begin at the first round.
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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?
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Many a law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word never.
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Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.
WALTER SCOTT