Edwin Muir

"The curse of Scottish literature is the lack of a whole language, which finally means the lack of a whole mind."

"There is a road that turning always Cuts off the country of Again. Archers stand there on every side And as it runs time's deer is slain And lies where it has lain."

"The world's great day is growing late, Yet strange these fields that we have planted So long with crops of love and hate."

"Long time he lay upon the sunny hill, To his father's house below securely bound."

"They do not live in the world, Are not in time and space. From birth to death hurled No word do they have, not one To plant a foot upon, Were never in any place."

"I have observed in foolish awe The dateless mid-days of the law And seen indifferent justice done By everyone on everyone."