No word of commiseration can make a burden feel one feather's weight lighter to the slave who must carry it.

— Walter Scott

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 Land of my sires! What mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!

— Walter Scott

Of this fickle temper he gave a memorable example in Ireland, when sent thither by his father, Henry the Second, with the purpose of buying golden opinions of the inhabitants of that new and important acquisition to the English crown. Upon this occasion the Irish chieftains contended which should first offer to the young Prince their loyal homage and the kiss of peace. But, instead of receiving their salutations with courtesy, John and his petulant attendants could not resist the temptation of pulling the long beards of the Irish chieftains; a conduct which, as might have been expected, was highly resented by these insulted dignitaries, and produced fatal consequences of the English domination in Ireland. It is necessary to keep these inconsistencies of John’s character in view, that the reader may understand his conduct during the present evening.

— Walter Scott

Oh, many a shaft at random sent Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word at random spoken May soothe, or wound, a heart that's broken!

— Walter Scott

Oh, what a tangled web we weave...when first we practice deceiving.

— Walter Scott

O! Many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!

— Walter Scott

One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.

— Walter Scott

One hour of life, crowded to the full of glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum

— Walter Scott

One hour of life, crowded to the full of 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 honor or observation.

— Walter Scott

O, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!

— Walter Scott