tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25220486194466481532012-02-15T23:15:14.037-08:00Richard Jefferies' QuotesQuotes by and about Richard Jefferies.The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.comBlogger141100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-59849318327763391372011-03-04T08:45:00.000-08:002012-02-04T03:01:16.435-08:00BURDEROP PARK
The Gatehouse
Burderop House
(In Jefferies’ time, Burderop Park was owned by the Calley family. The house is now owned by Halcrow)
Extract from Round about a Great Estate
Richard Jefferies, 1880
The great house at Okebourne Chace stands in the midst of the park, and from the southern windows no dwellings are visible. Near at hand the trees appear isolated, but further away insensibly The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-84347268790030141692009-08-27T02:47:00.000-07:002012-02-04T03:01:35.323-08:00Red DeerIn June 1882 Jefferies visited Exmoor, a vast expanse of high moorland intersected by deep wooded coombes covering part of West Somerset and North Devon. The resulting book, Red Deer, is a natural history of the moorland red deer and a detailed account of the methods of hunting them, for which Jefferies owed much to the first-hand information given to him by Arthur Heal, huntsman to the Devon The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-10771507908194622242008-11-06T00:41:00.000-08:002012-02-04T03:01:53.968-08:00Toilers of the FieldThe blackbird's whistle is very human, like a human being playing the flute; an uncertain player, now drawing forth a bar of a beautiful melody—then losing it again. He does not know what quiver or what turn his note will take before it ends; the note leads him and completes itself. It is a song which strives to express the singer's keen delight, the singer's exquisite appreciation of the The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-7828445504156655912008-11-06T00:40:00.000-08:002012-02-04T03:02:09.775-08:00Field and HedgerowThe bird upon the tree utters the meaning of the wind—a voice of the grass and wild-flower, words of the green leaf; they speak through that slender tone. Sweetness of dew and rifts of sunshine, the dark hawthorn touched with breadths of open bud, the odour of the air, the colour of the daffodil—all that is delicious and beloved of springtime are expressed in his song. Genius is nature and hisThe Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-68277220883435760972008-11-06T00:39:00.001-08:002012-02-04T03:02:20.410-08:00Nature near LondonThe sun at his meridian pours forth his light, forgetting, in all the inspiration of his strength and glory, that without an altar-screen of green his love must scorch. Joy in life; joy in life. The ears listen, and want more; the eyes are gratified with gazing, and desire yet further; the nostrils are filled with the sweet odours of flower and sap. The touch, too, has its pleasures, dallying The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-8825519686921478722008-11-06T00:37:00.000-08:002012-02-04T03:02:30.858-08:00Amaryllis at the FairDid ever any one have a beautiful idea or feeling without being repulsed?—'Amaryllis at the Fair.'
What a fallacy it is that hard work is the making of money; I could show you plenty of men who have worked the whole of their lives as hard as ever could possibly be, and who are still as far off independence as when they began. In fact, that is the rule; the winning of independence is rarely The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-3394135570236976672008-11-06T00:36:00.000-08:002012-02-04T03:02:40.702-08:00Life of the FieldsHuman thoughts and imaginings written down are pale and feeble in bright summer light. The eye wanders away, and rests more lovingly on greensward and green lime leaves. The mind wanders yet deeper and farther into the dreamy mystery of the azure sky. . . The delicacy and beauty of thought or feeling is so extreme that it cannot be inked in; it is like the green and blue of field andThe Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-53183881290559394102008-11-06T00:35:00.001-08:002012-02-04T03:02:51.355-08:00The Pageant of SummerThough not often consciously recognised, perhaps this is the great pleasure of summer, to watch the earth, the dead particles, revolving themselves into the living case of life, to see the seed-leaf push aside the clod and become by degrees the perfumed flower. From the tiny mottled egg come the wings that by-and-by shall pass the immense sea. It is in this marvellous transformation of The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-72594477348014212472008-11-06T00:34:00.001-08:002012-02-04T03:03:02.152-08:00The Story of my HeartI was not more than eighteen when an inner and esoteric meaning began to come to me from all the visible universe, and indefinable aspirations filled me. I found them in the grass fields, under the trees, on the hill-tops, at sunrise, and in the night. There was a deeper meaning everywhere. The sun burned with it, the broad front of morning beamed with it; a deep feeling entered me while gazingThe Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-73081036495307656012008-11-06T00:30:00.000-08:002012-02-04T03:03:17.885-08:00The Dewy MornWaylen's (1895) selections from The Dewy Morn:
The streamlet in the woods is full before the dove alights to drink at it; the flower in the grass has expanded before the butterfly comes. A great passion does not leap into existence as violets sprang up beneath the white feet of Aphrodite. It has grown first. The grapes have ripened in the sun before they are plucked for wine.—' The Dewy The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-19921655545855360352008-11-01T04:26:00.001-07:002012-02-04T03:03:40.011-08:00'Wild Flowers' - The Open AirAll the world is young to a boy, and thought has not entered into it; even the old men with grey hair do not seem old; different but not aged, the idea of age has not been mastered. A boy has to frown and study, and then does not grasp what long years mean. The various hues of the petals pleased without any knowledge of colour-contrasts, no note even of colour except that it was bright, and theThe Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-71728656241290164182008-11-01T04:23:00.000-07:002012-02-04T03:04:14.210-08:00'On the Downs' - The Hills and the ValeThe wind blows, and declares that the mind has capacity for more than has ever yet been brought to it. The wind is wide, and blows not only here, but along the whole range of hills - the hills are not broad enough for it; nor is the sea - it comes across the ocean and spreads itself whither it will. Though invisible, it is material, and yet it knows no limit. As the wind to the fixed boulder The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-34983408434927411712008-11-01T04:21:00.000-07:002008-11-01T04:23:20.296-07:00BevisAdd your favourite quotes from Bevis: a story of a boy in the comments section.Here is a starter:The heavens were as much a part of life as the elms, the oak, the house, the garden and orchard, the meadow and the brook. They were no more separated than the furniture of the parlour, than the old oak chair where he [Bevis] sat, and saw the new moon shine over the mulberry tree. They were neither The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2522048619446648153.post-70545096142427452992008-11-01T04:07:00.000-07:002012-02-04T03:04:42.648-08:00The Amateur PoacherAdd your favourite quotes from The Amateur Poacher in the comments section.
Here is a starter:
Let us always be out of doors among trees and grass, and rain and wind and sun. There the breeze comes and strikes the cheek and sets it aglow: the gale increases and the trees creak and roar, but it is only a ruder music. A calm follows, the sun shines in the sky, and it is the time to sit under an The Richard Jefferies Societyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06453389032715797041noreply@blogger.com0