272 Quotes About Scotland

Her name was Senga. You have to love Glasgow; once everyone figured we had enough people named Agnes, they just reversed the letters and started again.

Alone. It was such an insignificant word. Or it had been for centuries. He'd sought out the solitude, had slept away centuries in his cave without hesitation. And now? Now he hated the quiet. He detested being alone.

She'd come across a few Highlanders while in Edinburgh, but none compared to Darius. She didn't even have to ask if he was a Highlander. It was in the way he held himself, the way he spoke. It was a look that couldn't be faked or copied. Whatever made a man a Highlander was in his blood, in his very soul.

Freedom is an idea that no tyrant will ever crush.

Regretfully, he remained an alluring mystery, with fascinating lines and details she could not help but seek to examine further and memorize.

However she redefined herself, that part of one that made for the core of the self, that part that we think of as the ultimate, inner being—that was ineradicable Scottish. That part spoke with a Scottish voice; that part looked out through Scottish eyes; and it was that part that now welled within her as she gazed out through the window of the descending plane and saw below her the rolling Borders hills…

You should see Nina’s clan tartan," she said, pouring herself more tea. "It’s white with orange, green, and royal blue. Horrendous.""We took to calling any obnoxious pattern Clan MacGarish," I said."Or MacHideous," added Laurence."MacUgly," I continued."MacClash," he countered.

Some of my best friends are books.

As their eyes became accustomed to the light, the girls were startled to see the figure in front of them. Hunched over, wearing a dark cloak, was an old man. His long, white hair straggled over his shoulders, his skin was covered with grey whiskers and one of his eyes, hooded, drooped below the other bulging one. His mouth hung open and his yellowed teeth did nothing to stop his rank breath pervading the air.