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Scotland Quotes

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Scotland Quotes

“To afford protection to certain Scottish merchants who were going to Bremen, Lubeck and Hamburg to trade, and promising protection to the merchants of the Hanseatic League, when their mercantile affairs should bring them to Scotland. If they read the the records of any other countries of that time, notably those of the Genoese and Venetian Republics and many others shortly after they were instituted, they would find a widely different spirit to that which animated the national hero of Scotland. Nearly every one of those other Republics cut themselves off by inpenetrable walls of protection - by arms, by tariffs, and by sustoms - in order that their merchants should be protected: but Wallace understood clearly that there could be no international goodwill without international reciprocity and protection to the merchants of the various nationalities.”

“Large-scale reforestation of the Scottish hills and uplands through natural regeneration offers a tantalising prospect in terms of recovering our lost biodiversity, balancing our carbon budget and, I would argue, an opportunity to reinvigorate the economy of remoter rural areas. All that stands in the way are medieval laws designed centuries ago to prevent poaching and exclude people, and a forestry sector that follows, blindly, the corporate industrial forestry model.”

“Long ago, when faeries and men still wandered the earth as brothers, the MacLeod chief fell in love with a beautiful faery woman. They had no sooner married and borne a child when she was summoned to return to her people. Husband and wife said a tearful goodbye and parted ways at Fairy Bridge, which you can still visit today. Despite the grieving chief, a celebration was held to honor the birth of the newborn boy, the next great chief of the MacLeods. In all the excitement of the celebration, the baby boy was left in his cradle and the blanket slipped off. In the cold Highland night he began to cry. The baby’s cry tore at his mother, even in another dimension, and so she went to him, wrapping him in her shawl. When the nursemaid arrived, she found the young chief in the arms of his mother, and the faery woman gave her a song she insisted must be sung to the little boy each night. The song became known as “The Dunvegan Cradle Song,” and it has been sung to little chieflings ever since. The shawl, too, she left as a gift: if the clan were ever in dire need, all they would have to do was wave the flag she’d wrapped around her son, and the faery people would come to their aid. Use the gift wisely, she instructed. The magic of the flag will work three times and no more. As I stood there in Dunvegan Castle, gazing at the Fairy Flag beneath its layers of protective glass, it was hard to imagine the history behind it. The fabric was dated somewhere between the fourth and seventh centuries. The fibers had been analyzed and were believed to be from Syria or Rhodes. Some thought it was part of the robe of an early Christian saint. Others thought it was a part of the war banner for Harald Hardrada, king of Norway, who gave it to the clan as a gift. But there were still others who believed it had come from the shoulders of a beautiful faery maiden. And that faery blood had flowed through the MacLeod family veins ever since. Those people were the MacLeods themselves.”

“Scotland's potential independent membership of the EEC may be important here. The tightening of our links with the Common Market could broaden our intellectual horizons to include Paris, Frankfurt and Milan, as well as Oxford and London (this would, of course, be a reforging of intellectual ties between Scotland and Continental Europe). In discovering these other traditions, we may be stimulated to rediscover our own, buried intellectualism. But without this European dimension, it may well be, Scotland will remain culturally chained to England, even if politically sovereign.”

“What can there be that is splendid in my life? - a farmer's son, with perhaps the chance of a country church as my highest hope - after all kinds od signings, and confessions, and calls, and presbyteries. It would be splendid indeed to be plucked by a country presbytery that didn't know six words of Greek, or objected to by a congregation of ploughmen.”

“I think not that it is in any manner needful for me to write down any history of the Kirk's trials here. Truly, it is an old story in our country of Scotland; and if there should be folk of another land reading this, doubtless they may learn concerning the matter, from many books and histories the reading of which, I doubt not, will be to the edification, to such as, by reason of belonging to another nation, or by reason of neglect in their upbringing, may want a sufficiency of knowledge to distinguish between the old and steadfast Kirk herself, and them that do sometimes iniquitously bear her name.”

“So Scotland is to be thought of as a country different from England... the reader and perhaps still more the spectator of Macbeth are made to envisage unmistakably a 'Caledonia stern and wild', a chilly and thinly-populated land of mountains and shaggy woods rather than ploughed fields, of barren moors and battlefields and grim fortresses rather than towns, villages and farms. The elements in this most atmospheric of plays accord with the wild setting and with the wild deeds occurring in it. The weather is unpredictable, more often than not stormy and boistrous... with dark nights or ominous half-light predominant over brief glimpses of the day and the sun.”

“As Walter Scott showed, one could preserve the most intense passion for Caledonia stern and wild, one's own, one's native land, while rejoicing in the triumphs of the British armed forces over Napoleon and expressing devout loyalty to the Hanovarian dynasty, which, despite the madness of George III and the profligacy of his son and heir, had come to represent for Britons not only the virtues of sturdy monarchy under the sublime Constitution, but, most improbably, family values.”

“It's just past eleven o'clock at night, so finally fully dark out, which means it's the perfect time to see the light installations in St. Andrew Square. As they cross the tram tracks and enter the square, Susan gasps, "Will you look at that?" The entire square is softly aglow from hundreds of spherical bulbs planted on stiff stems, like luminescent poppy seed heads. They cover every last inch of grass in the square, and the lights slowly change from white to blue, to green, and back to white, the change staggered by section, so the square seems alive with rippling bands of light, like a tiny aurora borealis come down to earth.”

“Then it kissed me—not as a man would kiss a lover, not with tenderness or even passion. This was a kiss that stole the soul of men. Revulsion at this creature’s kiss was instantly replaced by the warmth stealing through my veins, as if my missing blood were being replenished and contrived to heal me. I craved to keep kissing the beast. My entire being awakened to that kiss feeding me ecstasy, feeding me life.”

“The black of the ocean waves was the color of the sorrow in my breast, a sorrow that was never far away and always visible.”

“I was once a man, not a great man, not a saintly man, but a good man, and a man nonetheless.”

“My life was going exactly where I wanted it to until the Devil showed up.”

“Iona stared at me for a long time. “You are going to leave me a widow before I have a chance to become a bride.”

“God himself had sent me away. I was truly now among the damned.”

“I did not choose to be a monster—a shell of a man—half-human, half-fiend. I am a tiefling. I am what I am.”

“The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride; True is the charge, nor by themselves denied. Are they not then in strictest reason clear, Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here?”

“My parents were both from Scotland, but had been resident in Lower Canada some time before their marriage, which took place in Montreal; and in that city I spent most of my life.”

“Melrose is the finest remaining specimen of Gothic architecture in Scotland. Some of the sculptured flowers in the cloister arches are remarkably beautiful and delicate, and the two windows - the south and east oriels - are of a lightness and grace of execution really surprising.”