"I asked the headmaster of literature, "Why are there so many headmasters and so few poets? Is it easier for you to train your own kind than ours?" He said, "No. The emperor needs all the headmasters he can get. If a quarter of his people were headmasters he would be perfectly happy. But more than two poets would tear his kingdom apart.""

"He usually lacks the originality of Henryson and the brilliance of Dunbar and Douglas. But what there is of him is good all through."

"And to the Devill of hell condemne this mein3e; For quhy sic reformatioune, as I weine Into Scotland was never hard nor seine."

"Ere I depart this natioun, I shall mak Reformatioun!"

"But in the glances of his eye, A penetrating, keen, and sly Expression found its home; The flash of that satiric rage, Which, bursting on the early stage, Branded the vices of the age, And broke the keys of Rome. * * * Still is thy name in high account, And still thy verse has charms, Sir David Lindesay of the Mount, Lord Lion King-at-arms!"

"Heir entirs Flattery new landit owt of France"

"That nicht he sleipit never ane wink, Bot still did on the Ladie think."

"Quhowbeit that divers devote cunnyng Clerkis In Latyne toung hes wryttin syndrie bukis, Our unlernit knawis lytill of thare werkis, More than thay do the rauyng of the Rukis. Quharefore to Colyearis, Cairtaris, & to Cukis, To Jok and Thome, my Ryme sall be diractit, With cunnyng men quhowbeit it wylbe lactit."

"Brother Wantonness, what thinks thou? Yon are the Three Estates I trow Gangand backwart."

"Lyndsay, with all his ancient coarseness…maintained for two centuries, even among the precise, his position as the popular poet of Scotland."

"Sir, I wald speir at ȝow ane questioun. Behauld sum Prelats of this Regioun: Manifestlie during thair lustie lyvfis, Thay swyfe Ladies, Madinis and vther mens wyfis. And sa thair cunts thay haue in consuetude. Quhidder say ȝe that law is evill or gude?"

"Unthrift, sweirnes, falset, povertie, and stryfe Pat polacey in dainger of hir lyfe."

"Heir sall Wantones ga spy them and cum agane to the king"

"Quhen the Sonne is at the hycht, Att nonne quhen it doith schyne most brycht, The schaddow of that hydduous strength Sax myle and more it is of lenth. Thus maye ye Juge, in to your thocht, Gyfe Babilone be heych, or nocht."

"My feet are heavy now but on I go, My head erect beneath the tragic years."

"Mere by-blows are the world and we, And time within eternity A sheer anachronism."

"Unwilling friend, let not your spite abate; Help me with scorn, and strengthen me with hate."

"And the difficultest job a man can do, Is to come it brave and meek with thirty bob a week, And feel that that's the proper thing for you. It's a naked child against a hungry wolf; It's playing bowls upon a splitting wreck; It's walking on a string across a gulf With millstones fore-and-aft about your neck; But the thing is daily done by many and many a one. And we fall, face forward, fighting, on the deck."

"Business – the world's work – is the sale of lies: Not goods, but trade-marks; and still more and more In every branch becomes the sale of money."

"One must become Fanatic – be a wedge – a thunder-bolt To smite a passage through the close-grained world."

"That minister of ministers, Imagination, gathers up The undiscovered Universe, Like jewels in a jasper cup."

"Farewell the hope that mocked, farewell despair That went before me still and made the pace. The earth is full of graves, and mine was there Before my life began; my resting-place."

"Seraphs and saints with one great voice Welcomed that soul that knew not fear. Amazed to find it could rejoice, Hell raised a hoarse, half-human cheer."

"The world's chief idol, nurse of fretting cares, Dumb trafficker, yet understood o'er all."

"Vile avarice and pride, from Heaven accurst, In all are ill, but in a church-man worst."

"Lo, one who loved true honour more than fame, A real goodness, not a studied name."

"Despair and confidence both banish fear."

"His birthright sold, some pottage so to gain."

"That queen of nations, absolutely great."

"Pride hated stands, and doth unpitied fall."

"I sing the sabbath of eternal rest."

"When policy puts on religious cloak."

"That generous plainness proves the better way."

"Of all things that are feared, the least is death."

"To love and be beloved, this is the good, Which for most sovereign all the world will prove."

"Times daily change and we likewise in them; Things out of sight do straight forgotten die."

"Although my hap be hard, my heart is high."

"What thing so good which not some harm may bring? Even to be happy is a dangerous thing."

"Words but direct, example must allure."

"That fatal sergeant, Death, spares no degree."

"Of all the tyrants that the world affords, Our own affections are the fiercest lords."

"Death is the port where all may refuge find, The end of labour, entry unto rest."

"I hope, I fear, resolved, and yet I doubt, I'm cold as ice, and yet I burn as fire; I wot not what, and yet I much desire, And trembling too, am desperately stout."

"O if thou knew’st how thou thyself dost harm, And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest; Then thou would’st melt the ice out of thy breast And thy relenting heart would kindly warm."

"The weaker sex, to piety more prone"

"Though I was long in coming to the light, Yet may I mount to fortune's highest height."

"What life refused, to gain by death he thought: For life and death are but indifferent things, And of themselves not to be shunned nor sought, But for the good or ill that either brings."

"Tho' the world could turn from you, This, at least, I learn from you: Beauty and Truth, tho' never found, are worthy to be sought, The singer, upward-springing, Is grander than his singing, And tranquil self-sufficing joy illumes the dark of thought. This, at least, you teach me, In a revelation: That gods still snatch, as worthy death, the soul in its aspiration."

"“O Balder, he who fashion’d us, And bade us live and move, Shall weave for Death’s sad heavenly hair Immortal flowers of love. “Ah! never fail’d my servant Death, Whene’er I named his name,— But at my bidding he hath flown As swift as frost or flame. “Yea, as a sleuth-hound tracks a man, And finds his form, and springs, So hath he hunted down the gods As well as human things! “Yet only thro’ the strength of Death A god shall fall or rise — A thousand lie on the cold snows, Stone still, with marble eyes. “But whosoe’er shall conquer Death, Tho’ mortal man he be, Shall in his season rise again, And live, with thee, and me! “And whosoe’er loves mortals most Shall conquer Death the best, Yea, whosoe’er grows beautiful Shall grow divinely blest.” The white Christ raised his shining face To that still bright’ning sky. “Only the beautiful shall abide, Only the base shall die!”"

"Along the melting shores of earth An emerald flame there ran, Forest and field grew bright, and mirth Gladdened the flocks of man. Then glory grew on earth and heaven, Full glory of full day! Then the bright rainbow's colours seven On every iceberg lay!In Balder's hand Christ placed His own, And it was golden weather, And on that berg as on a throne The Brethren stood together!And countless voices far and wide Sang sweet beneath the sky — "All that is beautiful shall abide, All that is base shall die."."