Odds And Sods Quotes

Ascent To The Sierras poet Robinson Jeffers #140 on top 500 poets Poet's PagePoemsCommentsStatsE-BooksBiographyQuotationsShare on FacebookShare on Twitter Poems by Robinson Jeffers : 8 / 140 « prev. poem next poem » Ascent To The Sierras Beyond the great valley an odd instinctive rising Begins to possess the ground, the flatness gathers to little humps and barrows, low aimless ridges, A sudden violence of rock crowns them. The crowded orchards end, they have come to a stone knife; The farms are finished; the sudden foot of the slerra. Hill over hill, snow-ridge beyond mountain gather The blue air of their height about them. Here at the foot of the pass The fierce clans of the mountain you'd think for thousands of years, Men with harsh mouths and eyes like the eagles' hunger, Have gathered among these rocks at the dead hour Of the morning star and the stars waning To raid the plain and at moonrise returning driven Their scared booty to the highlands, the tossing horns And glazed eyes in the light of torches. The men have looked back Standing above these rock-heads to bark laughter At the burning granaries and the farms and the town That sow the dark flat land with terrible rubies... lighting the dead... It is not true: from this land The curse was lifted; the highlands have kept peace with the valleys; no blood in the sod; there is no old sword Keeping grim rust, no primal sorrow. The people are all one people, their homes never knew harrying; The tribes before them were acorn-eaters, harmless as deer. Oh, fortunate earth; you must find someone To make you bitter music; how else will you take bonds of the future, against the wolf in men's hearts?

Hareton, with a streaming face, dug green sods, and laid them over the brown mould himself: at present it is as smooth and verdant as its companion mounds—and I hope its tenant sleeps as soundly. But the country folks, if you ask them, would swear on the Bible that he walks: there are those who speak to having met him near the church, and on the moor, and even within this house. Idle tales, you’ll say, and so say I. Yet that old man by the kitchen fire affirms he has seen two figures looking out of his chamber window on every rainy night since his death:—and an odd thing happened to me about a month ago. I was going to the Grange one evening—a dark evening, threatening thunder—and, just at the turn of the Heights, I encountered a little boy with a sheep and two lambs before him; he was crying terribly; and I supposed the lambs were skittish, and would not be guided. “What is the matter, my little man?” I asked. “There’s Heathcliff and a woman there under the hill,” he blubbered, “an’ I daren't pass ’em.” I saw nothing; but neither the sheep nor he would go on, so I bid him take the road lower down.

Dressed as he was in a practically fluorescent pink tee-shirt and denim shorts cut at the knee, Adam drew his fair share of odd looks as he and Harriet hurried through the sleet from the lecture theatre to the campus refectory. He made a solemn vow to never again take the piss out of guys unseasonably dressed – they too might just be poor sods doing the walk of shame after a theme night.

And she knew that it wasn’t fair for him to assume the entire burden for what had happened. For two of them had engaged in that reckless, life-altering night of passion. “It was my fault too. I went with you willingly.” There was no longer any reason to keep secrets, and she said in halting tones, “It was my…first time. Being with a man, I mean. I didn’t think of the consequences—” Rhys’s oath cut her off. Before she could react, her cheek was pressed against the plush silk of his waistcoat, his arms tight bands around her. He did nothing more…just held her. His heart thundered beneath her ear. Given the uncertainty of the situation, it was odd how safe she felt. “Not another word. You are not to blame, sweetheart, and, by God, I’ll not let you think that you are.” His voice was grittier than sandpaper. “The fault is entirely mine. I should have sensed your inexperience. Bloody hell, I’m a blackguard. I told myself that because you were working in a dockside tavern, you knew what you were about.” “It’s a common assumption about us serving maids,” she said wryly. “Common doesn’t make it right.” His hand continued its comforting stroke even as his voice dripped with self-condemnation. “I was a careless sod. If I could go back and do it over, I would.” She tipped her head back. “You wouldn’t have approached me?” “I’ve done many things I’m not proud of.” His eyes darkened. “But I’ve never to my knowledge dallied with a virgin. And the fact that I did so with you and didn’t even realize—” “Because I didn’t act like a virgin, did I?” She squirmed at the memory of her wantonness. “I went with you, and we didn’t even get to the bed…” “My God.” His eyes shut. “Your first time. Against a bloody door.” “It was fine,” she said quickly. “I, um, enjoyed it. Didn’t you?” His lashes lifted, revealing his glowering stare. “That’s hardly the point, Maggie mine. It’s not right for your first time.