"Lark" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... character, not only of his own, but of all nations, that Marryat is largely human. He is the enslaver of youth, not by the literary artifices of presentation, but by the natural glamour of his own temperament. To his young heroes the beginning of life is a splendid and warlike lark, ending at last in inheritance and marriage. His novels are not the outcome of his art, but of his character, like the deeds that make up his record of naval service. To the artist his work is interesting as a completely successful expression of an unartistic nature. It is ...
— Notes on Life and Letters • Joseph Conrad
... Though his strong heart did fail. O Lilith, think! The crown of clustered worlds thou mayest find, If thou with him who loveth thee wilt bind Thy life." "Nay, far happier seems to me Than eagle caged, the wild lark soaring free," She said. And through her rose-pleached alleys strayed They to the sea. And tender music made That guileful voice; yet slow his wooing sped Those summer days. But when were dead And brown the crisping leaves, "Oh, love," ...
— Lilith - The Legend of the First Woman • Ada Langworthy Collier
... standing it up in that God-forsaken hole where you can't even keep warm is what beats me. Seems to me I went to church once, oh, just for a lark, and the preacher talked about some plagues of Egypt, all different kinds, you know. It was real interesting. I always remembered it. But in looking back over plagues I've seen, the very worst ...
— The Black Pearl • Mrs. Wilson Woodrow
... to laugh. He slapped one of the horses caressingly on the nose as he said: "You devils! Couldn't you go on a lark without telling the Captain about it, and getting us ...
— On the Edge of the War Zone - From the Battle of the Marne to the Entrance of the Stars and Stripes • Mildred Aldrich
... next day, being the Wednesday before thanksgiving, was alive and busy with the various preparations for the great festival, now held to be a sacred holiday throughout this wide-spread union. The lark had no sooner called morning in the meadow than Mopsey, who seemed to regard herself as having the entire weight of the occasion on her single shoulders, slipped from bed, hurried to the garden, and taking a last look at the great pumpkin as it lay in all its golden glory, severed ...
— Chanticleer - A Thanksgiving Story of the Peabody Family • Cornelius Mathews
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