Evening Orts is good morning-fother.
It that lies not in your gate, breaks not your shins.
It's a fair dung bairn that dare not greit.
Better be alone nor in ill company.
The grace of God is geir enough.
I shall hold his Nose to the Grindstone.
A begun work is half ended.
Hanging gangs by hap.
Quhen wine is in, wits out.
All the speed is in the spurs.