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.
Greatness of any kind has no greater foe than a habit of drinking.
Fortune may raise up or abuse the ordinary mortal, but the sage and the soldier should have minds beyond her control.
Methinks I will not die quite happy without having seen something of that Rome of which I have read so much.
Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e’er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!
Fair play is a jewel.
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.
Meat eaten without either mirth or music is ill of digestion.
Do not Christians and Heathens, Jews and Gentiles, poets and philosophers, unite in allowing the starry influences?
Caution comes too late when we are in the midst of evils.
A mother’s pride, a father’s joy.
I am she, O most bucolical juvenal, under whose charge are placed the milky mothers of the herd.
Commend me to sterling honesty though clad in rags.
Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o’er.
I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as it was said to me.
Vengeance to God alone belongs; But, when I think of all my wrongs My blood is liquid flame!
When a man has not a good reason for doing a thing, he has one good reason for letting it alone.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
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.
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!