A Quote by Victor Hugo

The owl goes not into the nest of the lark. — © Victor Hugo
The owl goes not into the nest of the lark.

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The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.
My brain is dull, my sight is foul, I cannot write a verse, or read-- Then, Pallas, take away thine Owl, And let us have a lark instead.
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And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.
For the poor wren (The most diminutive of birds) will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
All the spring may be hidden in the single bud, and the low ground nest of the lark may hold the joy that is to herald the feet of many rose-red dawns.
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.
I had the heaviest paper round in Ilkley, West Yorks, and if you look at my shoulders one is still lower than the other. I also did a milk round for a day. It was awful. I was a very surly milkman, because it was very cold, very dark and very early. I am a lark, not an owl, but not in winter when it's chilly. Apart from that I went straight into gardening at 15.
Silence is the nest and music is the bird. The bird leaves the nest early in the morning and returns to the nest in the evening. Similarly, in the spiritual world, divine music comes from the inmost soul of Silence.
Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait, His day's hot task hath ended in the west: The owl, night's herald, shrieks-'tis very late; The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest; And coal-black clouds, that shadow heaven's light, Do summon us to part, and bid good night.
The owl flies, in the moonlight, over a field where the wounded cry out. Like the owl, I fly in the night over my own misfortune.
Daja: "He and Rosethorn work together? They hate each other." Lark: "I didn't say they liked it. - Daja and Lark referring to Rosethorn and Crane's cooperation on finding the cures for new diseases
The music soars within the little lark, And the lark soars.
I'm the worst night owl, because I'm a self-loathing night owl who thinks, 'No, I should be getting up early.' It feels unproductive. I must get over that.
The inauspiciousness of the owl is nothing but the inauspiciousness of the man who thinks that owl is inauspicious!
There was an Old Man with an owl, Who continued to bother and howl; He sate on a rail, and imbibed bitter ale, Which refreshed that Old Man and his owl.
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