One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry dec… - Walter Scott

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One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honour or observation.

English
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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

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Additional quotes by Walter Scott

There is no better antidote against entertaining too high an opinion of others than having an excellent one of ourselves at the very same time.

There are few men who do not look back in secret to some period of their youth, at which a sincere and early affection was repulsed, or betrayed, or became abortive through opposing circumstances. It is these little passages of secret history, which leave a tinge of romance in every bosom, scarce permitting us, even in the most busy or advanced period of life, to listen with total indifference to a tale of true love.

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The autumn winds rushing
Waft the leaves that are searest,
But our flower was in flushing,
When blighting was nearest.
Fleet foot on the correi,
Sage counsel in cumber,
Red hand in the foray,
How sound is thy slumber!
Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
Thou art gone, and for ever!

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