Larks Quotes

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.

God is in his Heaven, all's right with the world.

The music soars within the little lark, And the lark soars.

The owl goes not into the nest of the lark.

Skylark Have you anything to say to me? Won't you tell me where my love can be?

What: is the jay more precious than the lark because his feathers are more beautiful?

To rise with the lark, and go to bed with the lamb.

Smokey and The Bandit was just a lark. All we did was run up and down those Georgia roads wrecking cars and having the time of our life.

None but the lark so shrill and clear; Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings.

Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark.

Oh, stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay, Nor quit for me the trembling spray, A hapless lover courts thy lay, Thy soothing, fond complaining.

Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Raising people is not some lark. It's serious work with serious repercussions. It's air-traffic control. You can't step out for a minute; you can barely pause to scratch your ankle.

And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.

There is small merit in mocking goodness, tweaking charity; it is much more comic to deprive people of their petty little existence for no reason at all, for a lark.

Film is a lark to me - thank God I don't have to make a living from it.

I'm just happy as a lark having a good health. People say are you thinking about retiring, I don't have time to think about retiring.

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.

you can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?

Teach me, O lark! with thee to greatly rise, to exalt my soul and lift it to the skies.

But you who walk facing the sun, what images drawn on the earth can hold you?

It was a bit of a lark when I agreed to do [Smokey and the Bandit], and I knew we'd have fun if we could get Jackie Gleason.

Like the lark that soars in the air, first singing, then silent, content with the last sweetness that satiates it, such seemed to me that image, the imprint of the Eternal Pleasure.

Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies.