Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! Now 's the day and now 's the hour; See the front o' battle lour.

And like a passing thought, she fled In light away.

Painters and poets have liberty to lie.

Misled by fancy's meteor ray, By passion driven; But yet the light that led astray Was light from heaven.

Suspicion is a heavy armor and with its weight it impedes more than it protects.

All my fears and cares are of this world; if there is another, an honest man has nothing to fear from it.

Critics! Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame.