Bluid is thicker than water. - Walter Scott

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Bluid is thicker than water.

Walter Scott

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About Walter Scott

Sir Walter Scott, 1st Baronet (August 15, 1771 – September 21, 1832) was a Scottish historical novelist, poet, playwright and historian popular throughout Europe during his time. He had a major impact on European and American literature. As an advocate, judge and legal administrator by profession, he combined writing and editing with daily work as Clerk of Session and Sheriff-Depute of Selkirkshire. He was prominent in Edinburgh's Tory establishment, active in the Highland Society, long a president of the Royal Society of Edinburgh (1820–1832), and a vice president of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland (1827–1829). His knowledge of history and literary facility equipped him to establish the historical novel genre and as an exemplar of European Romanticism.

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Also Known As

Pen Names: Jedediah Cleishbotham • Laurence Templeton • Somnambulus • Malachi Malagrowther • Clutterbuck • Lawrence Templeton

Also Known As: Border Minstrel

Alternative Names: Walter Skott • Sir Walter Scott, Bart. • Sir Walter Scott • Sir Walter Scott, 1st Baronet • Great Magician • The Great Unknown • Walter Sir Scott • Wizard of the North

All quotes from Walter Scott Similar Quotes by other Originators

Originators like Walter Scott:

William Shakespeare William Cowper John Dryden Lord Byron John Milton

Additional quotes by Walter Scott

Chivalry! — -why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection — -the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant — -Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword.

Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land.

Meantime the clang of the bows and the shouts of the combatants mixed fearfully with the sound of the trumpets, and drowned the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling defenceless beneath the feet of the horses. The splendid armour of the combatants was now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the sword and battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted upon the breeze like snowflakes. All that was beautiful in the martial array had disappeared, and what was now visibke was only calculated to awaken terror or compassion.