Sir Walter Scott ( 10 of 46 )
One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years read more
One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive! - Marmion.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive! - Marmion.
Ambition breaks the ties of blood, and forgets the obligations of gratitude.
Ambition breaks the ties of blood, and forgets the obligations of gratitude.
Delightful praise!--like summer rose,
That brighter in the dew-drop glows,
The bashful maiden's cheek appear'd,
read more
Delightful praise!--like summer rose,
That brighter in the dew-drop glows,
The bashful maiden's cheek appear'd,
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
Well, then--our course is chosen--spread the sail--
Heave oft the lead, and mark the soundings well--
Look read more
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.
Art thou a friend to Roderick?
Art thou a friend to Roderick?
One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled
with noble risks, is worth whole years read more
One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled
with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry
decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters
through a marsh, without either honour or observation.
Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!
Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to read more
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
