Robert Burns Quotes

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress; A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!
And there begins a lang digression about the lords o' the creation.
Critics! Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame.
Dare to be honest and fear no labor.
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.
His locked, lettered, braw brass collar, Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.
I pick my favourite quotations and store them in my mind as ready armour, offensive or defensive, amid the struggle of this turbulent existence.
Let them cant about decorum, Who have characters to lose!
Man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn!
Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.
Suspense is worse than disappointment.
Suspicion is a heavy armor and with its weight it impedes more than it protects.
The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
The wide world is all before us - but a world without a friend.
There is no such uncertainty as a sure thing.
I am very willing to admit that I have some poetical abilities, and as few - if any - writers, either moral or political, are intimately acquainted with the classes of mankind among whom I have chiefly mingled, I may have seen men and manners in a different phasis from what is common, which may assist originality of thought.
I foresee that poverty and obscurity probably await me, and I am in some measure prepared and daily preparing to meet them.
I have often thought that if a well-grounded affection be not really a part of virtue, it is something extremely akin to it.
In my conscience, I believe that my heart has been so oft on fire that it is absolutely vitrified.
It is natural for a young fellow to like the acquaintance of females and customary for him to keep them company when occasion serves. Some one of them is more agreeable to him than the rest; there is something, he knows not what, pleases him, he knows not how, in her company. This I take to be what is called love with the greatest part of us.
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AuthorName
Robert Burns
Profession
Poet
BirthDate
25 January, 1759
DeathDate
21 July, 1796
Country
Scotland
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