"Vole" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... unfailing source of enjoyment in the walks along the towing path, when moor-hens are swimming, and dipping on a glimpse of the spectator; when fish are rising, or sometimes taking a sudden "header" into the air and going down with a splash; when the water-vole rushes for his hole with head just above the water; when a blue flash of kingfisher darts by, and the deep blue or green dragon-flies sit on the sedges, or perhaps a tiny May- fly sits on a rail to shake off its last garment, and come forth a snow-white fairy thing with ...
— John Keble's Parishes • Charlotte M Yonge
... poor; Who makes a trust or charity a job, And gets an Act of Parliament to rob; Why turnpikes rise, and now no cit nor clown Can gratis see the country, or the town; Shortly no lad shall chuck, or lady vole, But some excising courtier will have toll. He tells what strumpet places sells for life, What 'squire his lands, what citizen his wife: And last (which proves him wiser still than all) What lady's face is not a whited wall. As one of Woodward's patients, sick, and sore, I puke, ...
— Essay on Man - Moral Essays and Satires • Alexander Pope
... specimen of the Mexican vole from Colorado was obtained on the Mesa Verde and has been reported by Rodeck and Anderson (1956:436). Specimens have now been taken at seven localities on the Mesa. Prater Canyon is the only one of these localities at which any other species of vole was taken. There ...
— Mammals of Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado • Sydney Anderson
... runagates Across us shoot their dusky wink; I hear the parliament of chats In haws beside the river's brink; And drops the vole off alder-banks, To push his arrow through the stream. These busy people had our thanks For tickling sight and sound, but theme They were not more than breath we drew Delighted with our world's embrace: The moss-root smell ...
— The Shaving of Shagpat • George Meredith
... du foyer, Constance s'admirait. Dieu! sur sa robe il vole une etincelle! Au feu! Courez! Quand l'espoir l'enivrait, Tout perdre ainsi! Quoi! Mourir,—et si belle! L'horrible feu ronge avec volupte Ses bras, son sein, et l'entoure, et s'eleve, Et sans pitie devore sa beaute, Ses dix-huit ans, helas, ...
— Selections From the Works of John Ruskin • John Ruskin
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