Sod Quotes
Sod Quote of the day
People think I'm a miserable sod but it's only because I get asked such bloody miserable questions.
Careful, luv. I might be angry with you, but that doesn't mean I don't still want you. So if you do that again, I'll shag you right here, right now, and sod anyone who wants to watch
If I were dead and buried And I heard your voice, Beneath the sod My heart of dust Would still rejoice.
I took a day to search for God, And found Him not. But as I trod By rocky ledge, through woods untamed, Just where one scarlet lily flamed, I saw His foot print in the sod.
I do not call the sod under my feet my country; but language-religion-government-blood-identity in these makes men of one country.
The traitor to Humanity is the traitor most accursed; Man is more than Constitutions; better rot beneath the sod, Than be true to Church and State while we are doubly false to God.
At the end of the Beatles, I really was done in for the first time in my life. Until then, I really was a kind of cocky sod.
Ireland, sir, for good or evil, is like no other place under heaven, and no man can touch its sod or breathe its air without becoming better or worse.
Who is this before whose presence idols tumble to the sod? While he cries out — Allah Akbar! and there is no god but God!
We plant sod where God wants 2 plant seed. He's more interested in growing our character than having us look finished.
The coral zoophyte may be leveled by transported masses swept over by the waters; yet like the trodden sod, it sprouts again, and continues to grow and flourish as before.
I like to read my diary occasionally to remind myself what a miserable, alienated old sod I used to be.
It’s spring! Farewell To chills and colds! The blushing, girlish World unfolds Each flower, leaf And blade of sod— Small letters sent To her from God.
Walter's eyes were very wonderful. All the joy and sorrow and laughter and loyalty and aspirations of many generations lying under the sod looked out of their dark-gray depths.
Now sod off back to your own world, you motherless scum, and save your threats for those who care.
I need not shout my faith. Thrice eloquent Are quiet trees and the green listening sod; Hushed are the stars, whose power is never spent; The hills are mute: yet how they speak of God!
We may scavenge the dross of the nation, we may shudder past bloody sod, But we thrill to the new revelation that we are parts of God.
The Master hath called us, in life's early morning, With spirits as fresh as the dew on the sod: We turn from the world, with its smiles and its scorning, To cast in our lot with the people of God.
