I'll ha'e nae hauf-way hoose, but aye be whaur Extremes meet — it's the only way I ken To dodge the curst conceit o' bein' richt That damns the vast … - Hugh MacDiarmid

The rose of all the world is not for me.
I want for my part
Only the little white rose of Scotland
That smells sharp and sweet — and breaks the heart.

I amna fou' sae muckle as tired — deid dune. It's gey and hard wark coupin' gless for gless
Wi' Cruivie and Gilsanquhar and the like,
And I'm no' juist as bauld as aince I wes.

If there's a sword-like sang
That can cut Scotland clear
O a' the warld beside
Rax me the hilt o't here.For there's nae jewal till
Frae the rest o earth it's free,
Wi the starry separateness
I'd fain to Scotland gie.