"But mankind—the race would perish did they cease to aid each other.—From the time that the mother binds the child's head, till the moment that some kind assistant wipes the death-damp from the brow of the dying, we cannot exist without mutual help. All, therefore, that need aid, have the right to ask it of their fellow-mortals; no one who has the power of granting can refuse it without guilt."

"Where lives the man that has not tried, How mirth can into folly glide, And folly into sin!"

"If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight."

"O fading honours of the dead! O high ambition, lowly laid!"

"I was not always a man of woe."

"I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me."

"In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love."

"Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star."

"Along thy wild and willow'd shore."

"For ne'er Was flattery lost on poet's ear: A simple race! they waste their toil For the vain tribute of a smile."

"Call it not vain;—they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies."

"True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven: It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die; 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."

"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."

"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!"

"That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay? How shall he meet that dreadful day?"

"Stood for his country’s glory fast, And nail’d her colours to the mast!"

"Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth."

"When, musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone."

"When Prussia hurried to the field, And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield."

"Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best."

"And darest thou then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall?"

"O, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive!"

"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!"

"To all, to each, a fair good-night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light!"

"The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade."

"With head upraised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art, In listening mood, she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand."

"And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace Of finer form or lovelier face."

"A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew."

"On his bold visage middle age Had slightly pressed its signet sage, Yet had not quenched the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth; Forward and frolic glee was there, The will to do, the soul to dare, The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, Of hasty love or headlong ire."

"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."

"Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!"

"Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head!"

"Time rolls his ceaseless course."

"Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and forever!"

"The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears. The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears."

"Art thou a friend to Roderick?"

"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I."

"Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foeman worthy of their steel."

"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!"

"They were happy years, the four I spent in Glasgow, for I was young and ardent, and had not yet suffered the grave miscarriage of hope which is our human lot."

"Alongside politicians and the press, writers of fiction picked up the theme of a sinister Communist threat, a theme that drew on the intelligence wars between the Soviet Union and the West. John Buchan, a Scottish novelist who had served in intelligence during World War One before becoming an MP, saw the hidden hand of a Communist plot to take over the world. In her novel The Big Four (1927), Agatha Christie, a successful British novelist, referred to ‘the world-wide unrest, the labour troubles that beset every nation, and the revolutions that break out in some’. The sense of menace played an important role in imaginative fiction. It took forward the pre-war strand of spy fiction, but added a theme of social disorder. There was also frequently a racial dimension, with a tendency to depict hostile figures as Slav and Jewish, frequently in league with sinister elements in British (or French or American) society. This theme drew on a broader hostility to Jews that was given renewed energy by the association of the Russian Revolution in hostile eyes with them. Russian émigrés spread this assessment. In turn, there was similar material in the Soviet Union about Western plots to overthrow the Revolution, a theme that long continued."

"The best prayers have often more groans than words."

"Prayer opens the heart to God, and it is the means by which the soul, though empty, is filled by God."

"He who would valiant be against all disaster; Let him in constancy Follow the Master. There's no discouragement Shall make him once relent; His first avowed intent To be a pilgrim."

"I have heard an atheist defined as a man who had no invisible means of support."

"Our sufferings have taught us that no nation is sufficient unto itself, and that our prosperity depends in the long run, not upon the failure of our neighbors but their successes."

"To-day we have fewer dogmas, but I think that we have stronger principles. By a dogma I mean a deduction from facts which is only valid under certain conditions, and which becomes untrue if those conditions change. By a principle I mean something that is an eternal and universal truth."