O, my luve is like a red, red rose.
His locked, lettered, braw brass collar, Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.
A mind that is conscious of its integrity scorns to say more than it means to perform.
Great for good, or great for evil.
But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lou'd sae kindly, Had we never lou'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted - We had ne'er been broken hearted
When matters are desperate we must put on a desperate face.