Quotes About Robert Burns

Lay the proud usurpers low!Tyrants fall in every foe!Liberty's in every blow!Let us do or die!

His locked, lettered, braw brass collarShowed him the gentleman an' scholar.

As Tammie glow'red, amazed, and curious,The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.

He wales a portion with judicious care;And "Let us worship God" he says, with solemn air.

There's nought but care on ev'ry han',In every hour that passes, O:What signifies the life o' man,An' 't were nae for the lasses, O.

Critics! Appalled I ventured on the name. Those cutthroat bandits in the paths of fame.

The great Creator to revere Must sure become the creature; But still the preaching cant forbear, And ev'n the rigid feature: Yet ne'er with wits profane to range Be complaisance extended;An atheist laugh's a poor exchange For deity offended.

I found that old Solomon proved it fair, That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care.

A gaudy dress and gentle air May slightly touch the heart; But it's innocence and modesty That polishes the dart.

Here's freedom to him who would read; Here's freedom to him who would write; None ever feared that the truth should be heard, But them that the truth would indict.

Should the poor be flattered?—Shakespeare.

Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash; Some rhyme, (vain thought!) for needfu' cash; Some rhyme to court the countra clash, An' raise a din; For me, an aim I never fash; I rhyme for fun.

A gaudy dress and gentle air May slightly touch the heart; But it's innocence and modesty That polishes the dart.

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

There is nothing in the whole frame of man which seems to me so unaccountable as that thing called conscience.

He managed to get the loan of a copy of Burns—better meat for a strong spirit than the poetry of Byron or even Scott.

There are even more statues of Robert Burns than of any other figure in world literature. Indeed if we discount figures of religion, then only Christopher Columbus has more statues than he worldwide.

I can see why the Russians love Robert Burns, I think that Russians and Koreans have a very similar outlook to Scots.

Robert Burns enriched Scottish song with his genius and is mainly responsible for the rich treasure house of song that we enjoy today. He collected folk songs, retained the melodic line, kept what words were usable and rewrote the rest. He didn't claim ownership.

For in the works of Robert Burns we see the whole cosmos of man's experience and emotion, from zenith to nadir, from birth until death.

Along the way, I picked up an Old Scots word for dreariness: dreich. The man who taught it to me sold gorgeous cashmere scarves made in Scotland and had just finished reciting a Robert Burns poem to me. Dreich, he explained, "means . . . nothingness." He pointed outside and said, "It means that," referring to the gray spitty skies that hadn't once shown the sun while I'd been there. Dreich. A perfect word both in sound and meaning.

Robert Burns was never called Rabbie or Robbie—though he did occasionally call himself Spunkie.

The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honour grip, Let that aye be your border.