Quotes by Robert Burns

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Robert Burns (January 25, 1759 - July 21, 1796) was a poet and a lyricist. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland, and is the best-known of the poets who have written in the Scots language, although much of his writing is also in English and a 'light' Scots dialect which would have been accessible to a wider audience than simply Scottish people. At various times in his career, he wrote in English, and in these pieces, his political or civil commentary is often at its most blunt. more

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I pick my favorite quotation and store them in my mind as ready armor, offensive or defensive, amid the struggle of this turbulent existence.

Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met -- or never parted -- we had never been broken-hearted.
Learn taciturnity and let that be your motto!
Prudent, cautious self-control, is wisdom's root.
I want someone to laugh with me, someone to be grave with me, someone to please me and help my discrimination with his or her own remark, and at times, no doubt, to admire my acuteness and penetration.
Firmness in enduring and exertion is a character I always wish to possess. I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint and cowardly resolve.
There is no such uncertainty as a sure thing.
Suspense is worst than disappointment.
When chill November's surly blast make fields and forest bare.
Suspicion is a heavy armor and with its weight it impedes more than it protects.
The heart and benevolent and kind the most resembles God.
Dare to be honest and fear no labor.
Their sighing , canting , grace-proud faces, their three-mile prayers, and half-mile graces.
How wretched is the person who hangs on by the favors of the powerful.
Critics! Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame.
Yestreen at the valentines' dealing, My heart to my mou gied a sten, For thrice I drew ane without failing, And thrice it was written "Tam Glen!"
For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne!
"The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast," The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine!
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley.
O Whisky! soul o' plays an' pranks! Accept a Bardie's gratefu' thanks! When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks Are my poor verses!
Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine, And fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink before I go A service to my bonnie lassie.

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