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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.

-Walter Scott

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The Half Hour Between

Walter Scott

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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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Those Who Follow The Banners Oreason Are Like The Well-disciplined Battalions 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 Honor, In The Conflicts Ohuman Life.

We Shall Never Learn To Feel And Respect Our Real Calling And Destiny, Unless We Have Taught Ourselves To Consider Every Thing As Moonshine, Compared With The Education Of The Heart.

It Is More Difficult To Look Upon Victory Than Upon Battle.

And Better Had They Ne'er Been Born, Who Read To Doubt, Or Read To Scorn.

Many Miles Away There's A Shadow On The Door Of A Cottage On The Shore Of A Dark Scottish Lake.

Hope Is Brightest When It Dawns From Fears.

Caution Comes Too Late When We Are In The Midst Of Evils.

Oh, Brignall Banks Are Wild And Fair, And Greta Woods Are Green, And You May Gather Garlands There Would Grace A Summer's Queen.

Then Hush Thee, My Darling, Take Rest While You May, For Strife Comes With Manhood, And Waking With Day.

In Prosperous Times I Have Sometimes Felt My Fancy And Powers Of Language Flag, But Adversity Is To Me At Least A Tonic And Bracer.

He That Climbs A Ladder Must Begin At The First Round.

O Caledonia! Stern And Wild, Meet Nurse For A Poetic Child! Land Of Brown Heath And Shaggy Wood; Land Of The Mountain And The Flood!

Blud's Thicker Than Water.

As Long As The Fates Permit, Live Cheerfully.

Marry In Haste, Repent At Leisure.

Heaven Know Its Time; The Bullet Has Its Billet

Teach Self-denial And Make Its Practice Pleasure, And You Can Create For The World A Destiny More Sublime That Ever Issued From The Brain Of The Wildest Dreamer.

What Skilful Limner E'er Would Choose To Paint The Rainbow's Varying Hues, Unless To Mortal It Were Given To Dip His Brush In Dyes Of Heaven?

For A Laggard In Love, And A Dastard In War, Was To Wed The Fair Ellen Of Lochinvar.

Woman's Faith And Woman's Trust, Write The Characters In Dust.

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.

We Often Praise The Evening Clouds, And Tints So Gay And Bold, But Seldom Think Upon Our God, Who Tinged These Clouds With Gold.

The Time Which Passes Over Our Heads So Imperceptibly Makes The Same Gradual Change In Habits, Manners And Character, As In Personal Appearance. At The Revolution Of Every Five Years We Find Ourselves Another And Yet The Same;--there Is A Change Of Views, And No Less Of The Light In Which We Regard Them; A Change Of Motives As Well As Of Action.

Breathes There The Man, With Soul So Dead, Who Never To Himself Hath Said, This Is My Own, My Native Land! Whose Heart Hath Ne'er Within Him Burn'd, As Home His Footsteps He Hath Turn'd From Wandering On A Foreign Strand! If Such There Breathe, Go Mark Him Well; For Him No Minstrel Raptures Swell; High Though His Titles, Proud His Name, Boundless His Wealth As Wish Can Claim; 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, Unhonor'd, And Unsung.

Every Hour Has Its End.

If A Farmer Fills His Barn With Grain, He Gets Mice. If He Leaves It Empty, He Gets Actors.

Though Varying Wishes, Hopes, And Fears, Fever'd The Progress Of These Years, Yet Now, Days, Weeks, And Months But Seem The Recollection Of A Dream.

Cats Are A Mysterious Kind Of Folk.

Like The Dew On The Mountain, Like The Foam On The River, Like The Bubble On The Fountain, Thou Art Gone, And For Ever!

Sleep The Sleep That Knows Not Breaking, Morn Of Toil, Nor Night Of Waking.

Where Is The Coward That Would Not Dare To Fight For Such A Land As Scotland?

The Tear, Down Childhood's Cheek That Flows, Is Like The Dewdrop On The Rose; When Next The Summer Breeze Comes By And Waves The Bush, The Flower Is Dry.

Chess Is A Sad Waste Of Brains.

Fight On, Brave Knights! Man Dies, But Glory Lives! Fight On; Death Is Better Than Defeat! Fight On Brave Knights! For Bright Eyes Behold Your Deeds!

Threatened Folk Live Long.

The Sun Never Sets On The Immense Empire Of Charles V.

Just At The Age 'twixt Boy And Youth, When Thought Is Speech, And Speech Is Truth.

The Lover's Pleasure, Like That Of The Hunter, Is In The Chase, And The Brightest Beauty Loses Half Its Merit, As The Flower Its Perfume, When The Willing Hand Can Reach It Too Easily. There Must Be Doubt; There Must Be Difficulty And Danger.

I Did Not Myself Set A High Estimation On Wealth, And Had The Affectation Of Most Young Men Of Lively Imagination, Who Suppose That They Can Better Dispense With The Possession Of Money, Than Resign Their Time And Faculties To The Labour Necessary To Acquire It.

All Is Possible For Those Who Dare To Die!

'tis An Old Tale, And Often Told; But Did My Fate And Wish Agree, Ne'er Had Been Read, In Story Old, Of Maiden True Betray'd For Gold, That Loved, Or Was Avenged, Like Me!

Adversity Is, To Me At Least, A Tonic And A Bracer.

Give Me An Honest Laugher.

Oh, On That Day, That Wrathful Day, When Man To Judgment Wakes Front Clay, Be Thou, O Christ, The Sinner's Stay, Though Heaven And Earth Shall Pass Away.

Love Rules The Court, The Camp, The Grove, And Men Below, And Saints Above: For Love Is Heaven, And Heaven Is Love.

If You Once Turn On Your Side After The Hour At Which You Ought To Rise, It Is All Over. Bolt Up At Once.

Hard Toil Can Roughen Form And Face, And Want Call Quench The Eye's Bright Grace.

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.

True Love's The Gift Which God Has Given To Man Alone Beneath The Heaven.

What An Ornament And Safeguard Is Humor! Far Better Than Wit For A Poet And Writer. It Is A Genius Itself, And So Defends From The Insanities.

Still Are The Thoughts To Memory Dear.

To Be Ambitious Of True Honor, Of The True Glory And Perfection Of Our Natures, Is The Very Principle And Incentive Of Virtue.

Sleep In Peace, And Wake In Joy.

For Love Is Heaven And Heaven Is Love.

Inspirational Love

For Monarchs Seldom Sigh In Vain.

Here Eglantine Embalm'd The Air, Hawthorne And Hazel Mingled There; The Primrose Pale, And Violet Flower, Found In Each Cliff A Narrow Bower; Fox-glove And Nightshade, Side By Side, Emblems Of Punishment And Pride, Group'd Their Dark Hues With Every Stain The Weather-beaten Crags Retain.

The Summer Dawn's Reflected Hue To Purple Changed Lock 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.

I Was Born A Scotsman And A Bare One. Therefore I Was Born To Fight My Way In The World.

Honour Is A Homicide And A Bloodspiller, That Gangs About Making Frays In The Street; But Credit Is A Decent Honest Man, That Sits At Hame And Makes The Pat Play.

The Paths Of Virtue, Though Seldom Those Of Worldly Greatness, Are Always Those Of Pleasantness And Peace.

The Will To Do, The Soul To Dare..

My Hope, My Heaven, My Trust Must Be, My Gentle Guide, In Following Thee.

Soldier, Rest! Thy Warfare O'er.

There Is A Vulgar Incredulity, Which In Historical Matters, As Well As In Those Of Religion, Finds It Easier To Doubt Than To Examine.

England Was Merry England, When Old Christmas Brought His Sports Again. 'twas Christmas Broach'd The Mightiest Ale; 'twas Christmas Told The Merriest Tale; A Christmas Gambol Oft Could Cheer The Poor Man's Heart Through Half The Year.

In The Lost Battle, Borne Down By The Flying, Where Mingles War's Rattle With Groans Of The Dying.

The Happy Combination Of Fortuitous Circumstances.

Great Talent Has Always A Little Madness Mixed Up With It.

Guilt, Though It May Attain Temporal Splendor, Can Never Confer Real Happiness; The Evil Consequences Of Our Crimes Long Survive Their Commission, And, Like The Ghosts Of The Murdered, Forever Haunt The Steps Of The Malefactor; While The Paths Of Virtue, Though Seldom Those Of Worldly Greatness, Are Always Those Of Pleasantness And Peace.

The Book Of Books Within This Ample Volume Lies The Mystery Of Mysteries. Happiest They Of Human Race To Whom Their God Has Given Grace To Read, To Fear, To Hope, To Pray, To Lift The Latch, To Force The Way; But Better Had They Ne'er Been Born That Read To Doubt Or Read To Scorn.

The Playbill, Which Is Said To Have Announced The Tragedy Of Hamlet, The Character Of The Prince Of Denmark Being Left Out.

Soldier, Rest! Thy Warfare O'er, Sleep The Sleep That Knows Not Breaking, Dream Of Battled Fields No More. Days Of Danger, Nights Of Waking.

Where, Where Was Roderick Then? One Blast Upon His Bugle Horn Were Worth A Thousand Men.

Mankind — The Race Would Perish Did They Cease To Aid Each Other.

Look At A Gown Of Gold, And You Will At Least Get A Sleeve Of It.

The Heart-sick Faintness Of The Hope Delayed!

The Most Learned, Acute, And Diligent Student Cannot, In The Longest Life, Obtain An Entire Knowledge Of This One Volume.

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.

Love, To Her Ear, Was But A Name, Combin'd With Vanity And Shame; Her Hopes, Her Fears, Her Joys, Were All Bounded Within The Cloister Wall.

In That Pleasant District Of Merry England Which Is Watered By The River Don, There Extended In Ancient Times A Large Forest, Covering The Greater Part Of The Beautiful Hills And Valleys Which Lie Between Sheffield And The Pleasant Town Of Doncaster.

It Was In The Beginning Of The Month Of November, 17--, When A Young English Gentleman, Who Had Just Left The University Of Oxford, Made Use Of The Liberty Afforded Him, To Visit Some Parts Of The North Of England; And Curiosity Extended His Tour Into The Adjacent Frontier Of The Sister Country.

Unless A Tree Has Borne Blossoms In Spring, You Will Vainly Look For Fruit On It In Autumn.

Earth Walks On Earth, Glittering In Gold; Earth Goes To Earth, Sooner Than It Wold; Earth Builds On Earth, Palaces And Towers; Earth Says To Earth, Soon, All Shall Be Ours.

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.

In Listening Mood She Seemed To Stand, The Guardian Naiad Of The Strand.

There Never Will Exist Anything Permanently Noble And Excellent In The Character Which Is A Stranger To Resolute Self-denial.

A Sound Head, An Honest Heart, And An Humble Spirit Are The Three Best Guides Through Time And To Eternity.

Never Was Flattery Lost On A Poet's Ear; A Simple Race, They Waste Their Toil For The Vain Tribute Of A Smile.

There Are Those To Whom A Sense Of Religion Has Come In Storm And Tempest; There Are Those Whom It Has Summoned Amid Scenes Of Revelry And Idle Vanity; There Are Those, Too, Who Have Heard Its "still Small Voice" Amid Rural Leisure And Placid Retirement. But Perhaps The Knowledge Which Causeth Not To Err Is Most Frequently Impressed Upon The Mind During The Season Of Affliction.

O, What A Tangled Web We Weave When First We Practise To Deceive!

A Thousand Fearful Images And Dire Suggestions Glance Along The Mind When It Is Moody And Discontented With Itself. Command Them To Stand And Show Themselves, And You Presently Assert The Power Of Reason Over Imagination.

My Foot Is On My Native Heath, And My Name Is Macgregor.

Call It Not Vain: They Do Not Err Who Say That When The Poet Dies Mute Nature Mourns Her Worshipper, And Celebrates His Obsequies.

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?

Teach You Children Poetry; It Opens The Mind, Lends Grace To Wisdom And Makes The Heroic Virtues Hereditary.

Meat Eaten Without Either Mirth Or Music Is Ill Of Digestion.

Credit Is Like A Looking-glass, Which When Once Sullied By A Breath, May Be Wiped Clear Again; But If Once Cracked Can Never Be Repaired.

Land Of My Sires! What Mortal Hand Can E'er Untie The Filial Band That Knits Me To Thy Rugged Strand!

That Day Of Wrath, That Dreadful Day. When Heaven And Earth Shall Pass Away.

Stood For His Country's Glory Fast, And Nailed Her Colors To The Mast!

For He That Does Good, Having The Unlimited Power To Do Evil, Deserves Praise Not Only For The Good Which He Performs, But For The Evil Which He Forbears.

He That Climbs The Tall Tree Has Won Right To The Fruit, He That Leaps The Wide Gulf Should Prevail In His Suit.

Who O'er The Herd Would Wish To Reign, Fantastic, Fickle, Fierce, And Vain! Vain As The Leaf Upon The Stream, And Fickle As A Changeful Dream; Fantastic As A Woman's Mood, And Fierce As Frenzy's Fever'd Blood. Thou Many-headed Monster Thing, Oh Who Would Wish To Be Thy King!

So Faithful In Love, And So Dauntless In War, There Never Was Knight Like Young Lochinvar.

A Few Drops Sprinkled On The Torch Of Love Make The Flame Blaze The Brighter.

Come One, Come All! This Rock Shall Fly From Its Firm Base, As Soon As I.

War Is The Only Game In Which Both Sides Lose.

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.

I Have Heard Men Talk About The Blessings Of Freedom," He Said To Himself, "but I Wish Any Wise Man Would Teach Me What Use To Make Of It Now That I Have It.

What Is A Diary As A Rule? A Document Useful To The Person Who Keeps It. Dull To The Contemporary Who Reads It And Invaluable To The Student, Centuries Afterwards, Who Treasures It.

Each Must Drain His Share Of Pleasure, Share Of Pain.

Vacant Heart, And Hand, And Eye, Easy Live And Quiet Die.

As Good Play For Nothing, You Know, As Work For Nothing.

A Finnan Haddock Has A Relish Of A Peculiar And Delicate Flavour, Inimitable On Any Other Coast Than That Of Aberdeenshire. Some Of Our Edinburgh Philosophers Tried To Produce Their Equal In Vain. I Was One Of A Party At Dinner Where The Philosophical Haddocks Were Placed In Competition With The Genuine Finnan Fish. These Were Served Round Without Distinguishing Whence They Came; But Only One Gentleman Out Of Twelve Present Espoused The Cause Of Philosophy.

A Fool's Wild Speech Confounds The Wise.

As System Virtualization Becomes Mainstream, It Managers Will Find A Greater Need For Disk Imaging For Disaster Recovery And Systems Deployment,.

But With Morning Cool Repentance Came.

Warriors! And Where Are Warriors Found, If Not On Martial Britain's Ground? And Who, When Waked With Note Of Fire, Love More Than They The British Lyre?

Here Is Neither Want Of Appetite Nor Mouths, Pray Heaven We Be Not Scant Of Meat Or Mirth.

Tell That To The Marines - The Sailors Won't Believe It.

Where Shall The Lover Rest, Whom The Fates Sever From His True Maiden's Breast, Parted For Ever? Where, Through Groves Deep And High, Sounds The Far Billow, Where Early Violets Die, Under The Willow.

Discretion Is The Perfection Of Reason, And A Guide To Us In All The Duties Of Life.

On His Bold Visage Middle Age Had Slightly Press'd Its Signet Sage, Yet Had Not Quench'd The Open Truth And Fiery Vehemence Of Youth: Forward And Frolic Glee Was There, The Will To Do, The Soul To Dare.

A Rusted Nail, Placed Near The Faithful Compass, Will Sway It From The Truth, And Wreck The Argosy.

True Love's The Gift Which God Has Given To Man Alone Beneath The Heaven. It Is The Secret Sympathy, The Silver Link, The Silken Tie, Which Heart To Heart, And Mind To Mind, In Body And In Soul Can Bind.

O Woman! In Our Hours Of Ease Uncertain, Coy, And Hard To Please, And Variable As The Shade By The Light Quivering Aspen Made; When Pain And Anguish Wring The Brow, A Ministering Angel Thou!

Respect Was Mingled With Surprise, And The Stern Joy Which Warriors Feel In Foemen Worthy Of Their Steel.

Vengeance To God Alone Belongs; But, When I Think Of All My Wrongs My Blood Is Liquid Flame!

One Crowded Hour Of Glorious Life Is Worth An Age Without A Name

Ambition Is No Cure For Love!

When A Man Has Not A Good Reason For Doing A Thing, He Has One Good Reason For Letting It Alone.

I Will But Confess The Sins Of My Green Cloak To My Grey Friar's Frock, And All Shall Be Well Again.

Hail To The Chief Who In Triumph Advances!

I Have Sometimes Thought Of The Final Cause Of Dogs Having Such Short Lives And I Am Quite Satisfied It Is In Compassion To The Human Race; For If We Suffer So Much In Losing A Dog After An Acquaintance Of Ten Or Twelve Years, What Would It Be If They Were To Live Double That Time?

For Love Will Still Be Lord Of All.

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, Unhonor'd, And Unsung.

Within That Awful Volume Lies The Mystery Of Mysteries!

We Build Statues Out Of Snow, And Weep To See Them Melt.

Alas!... What Is It, Valiant Knight, Save An Offering Of Sacrifice To A Demon Of Vain Glory, And A Passing Through The Fire Of Moloch? What Remains To You As A Prize Of All The Blood You Have Spilled, Of All The Travail And Pain You Have Endured, Of All The Tears Which Your Deeds Have Caused, When Death Hath Broken The Strong Man's Spear, And Overtaken The Speed Of His War-horse?

A Ruin Should Always Be Protected But Never Repaired - Thus May We Witness Full The Lingering Legacies Of The Past.

Affection Can Withstand Very Severe Storms Of Vigor, But Not A Long Polar Frost Of Indifference.

Covetousness Bursts The Sack And Spills The Grain.

Commend Me To Sterling Honesty Though Clad In Rags.

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 The Winter Air.

Thou Hast Had Thty Day, Old Dame, But Thy Sun Has Long Been Set. Thou Art Now The Very Emblem Of An Old Warhorse Turned Out On The Barren Heath; Thou Hast Had Thy Paces In Thy Time, But Now A Broken Amble Is The Best Of Them.

We Do That In Our Zeal Our Calmer Moment Would Be Afraid To Answer.

Come He Slow Or Come He Fast It Is But Death That Comes At Last

Ridicule Often Checks What Is Absurd, And Fully As Often Smothers That Which Is Noble.

Woe To The Youth Whom Fancy Gains, Winning From Reason's Hand The Reins, Pity And Woe! For Such A Mind Is Soft Contemplative, And Kind.

See Yonder Rock From Which The Fountain Gushes; Is It Less Compact Of Adamant, Though Waters Flow From It? Firm Hearts Have Moister Eyes.

Mellow Nuts Have The Hardest Rind.

Well, Then--our Course Is Chosen--spread The Sail-- Heave Oft The Lead, And Mark The Soundings Well-- Look To The Helm, Good Master--many A Shoal Marks This Stern Coast, And Rocks, Where Sits The Siren Who, Like Ambition, Lures Men To Their Ruin.

The Willow Which Bends To The Tempest Often Escapes Better Than The Oak Which Resists It.

Presence Of Mind

To All, To Each, A Fair Good-night, And Pleasing Dreams, And Slumbers Light.

It Is The Privilege Of Tale-tellers To Open Their Story In An Inn, The Free Rendezvous Of All Travellers, And Where The Humour Of Each Displays Itself, Without Ceremony Or Restraint.

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.

Art Thou A Friend To Roderick?

Her Blue Eyes Sought The West Afar, For Lovers Love The Western Star.

Where Lives The Man That Has Not Tried How Mirth Can Into Folly Glide, And Folly Into Sin!

The Sickening Pang Of Hope Deferr'd.

November's Sky Is Chill And Drear, November's Leaf Is Red And Sear.

Lightly From Fair To Fair He Flew, And Loved To Plead, Lament, And Sue; Suit Lightly Won, And Short-lived Pain, For Monarchs Seldom Sigh In Vain.

And Love Is Loveliest When Embalm'd In Tears.

He Who Indulges His Sense In Any Excesses Renders Himself Obnoxious To His Own Reason; And, To Gratify The Brute In Him, Displeases The Man, And Sets His Two Natures At Variance.

What Can They See In The Longest Kingly Line In Europe, Save That It Runs Back To A Successful Soldier?

Is Death The Last Sleep? No, It Is The Last And Final Awakening.

A Glass Of Good Wine Is A Gracious Creature, And Reconciles Poor Mortality To Itself And That Is What Few Things Can Do.

Loud O'er My Head Though Awful Thunders Roll, And Vivid Lightnings Flash From Pole To Pole, Yet 'tis Thy Voice, My God, That Bids Them Fly, Thy Arm Directs Those Lightnings Through The Sky. Then Let The Good Thy Mighty Name Revere, And Hardened Sinners Thy Just Vengeance Fear.

...crystal And Hearts Would Lose All Their Merit In The World If It Were Not For Their Fragility.

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.

When Thinking About Companions Gone, We Feel Ourselves Doubly Alone.

Besides, Rose Bradwardine, Beautiful And Amiable As We Have Described Her, Had Not Precisely The Sort Of Beauty Or Merit Which Captivates A Romantic Imagination In Early Youth. She Was Too Frank, Too Confiding, Too Kind; Amiable Qualities, Undoubtedly, But Destructive Of The Marvellous, With Which A Youth Of Imagination Delights To Dress The Empress Of His Affections.

Tears Are The Softening Showers Which Cause The Seed Of Heaven To Spring Up In The Human Heart.

And Children Know, Instinctive Taught, The Friend And Foe.

Methinks I Will Not Die Quite Happy Without Having Seen Something Of That Rome Of Which I Have Read So Much.

The Schoolmaster Is Termed, Classically, Ludi Magister, Because He Deprives Boys Of Their Play.

Still From The Sire The Son Shall Hear Of The Stern Strife, And Carnage Drear, Of Flodden's Fatal Field, When Shiver'd Was Fair Scotland's Spear, And Broken Was Her Shield!

Hurry No Man's Cattle; You May Come To Own A Donkey Yourself

Oh, Poverty Parts Good Company.

Chivalry!---why, Maiden, She Is The Nurse Of Pure And High Affection---the Stay Of The Oppressed, The Redresser Of Grievances, The Curb Of The Power Of The Tyrant ---nobility Were But An Empty Name Without Her, And Liberty Finds The Best Protection In Her Lance And Her Sword.

Some Feelings Are To Mortals Given With Less Of Earth In Them Than Heaven.

Literature Is A Great Staff, But A Very Sorry Crutch.

Fair Play Is A Jewel.

From My Experience, Not One In Twenty Marries The First Love; We Build Statues Of Snow And Weep To See Them Melt.

Cats Are A Very Mysterious Kind Of Folk. There Is Always More Passing In Their Minds Than We Are Aware Of.

He Is The Best Sailor Who Can Steer Within Fewest Points Of The Wind, And Exact A Motive Power Out Of The Greatest Obstacles.

Wounds Sustained For The Sake Of Conscience Carry Their Own Balsam With The Blow.

In Love Quarrels The Party That Loves The Most Is Always Most Willing To Acknowledge The Greater Fault.

Necessity--thou Best Of Peacemakers, As Well As Surest Prompter Of Invention.

My Dear, Be A Good Man Be Virtuous Be Religious Be A Good Man. Nothing Else Will Give You Any Comfort When You Come To Lie Here. ...god Bless You All.

Spur Not An Unbroken Horse; Put Not Your Plowshare Too Deep Into New Land.

Who, Noteless As The Race From Which He Sprung, Saved Others' Names, But Left His Own Unsung.

"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.

Women Are But The Toys Which Amuse Our Lighter Hours---ambition Is The Serious Business Of Life.

Serious Business

He Turn'd His Charger As He Spake, Upon The River Shore, He Gave His Bridle Reins A Shake, Said, "adieu For Evermore, My Love, And Adieu For Evermore."

I Will Tear This Folly From My Heart, Though Every Fibre Bleed As I Rend It Away!

The Man Who Is Deserving The Name Is The One Whose Thoughts And Exertions Are For Others Rather Than For Himself.

Look Not Thou On Beauty's Charming; Sit Thou Still When Kings Are Arming; Taste Not When The Wine-cup Glistens; Speak Not When The People Listens

Time Rolls His Ceaseless Course.

In The Name Of God!" Said Gurth, "how Came They Prisoners? And To Whom?" "our Master Was Too Ready To Fight," Said The Jester, "and Athelstane Was Not Ready Enough, And No Other Person Was Ready At All.

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