Rhyming Quotes

“All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide
like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide;
but a hidden star can still be smiling
at night's black spell on darkness, beguiling”
― Munia Khan

“God knows what we do not see, so let Him lead and set you free.”
― Carolyn Cutler Hughes, Through God's Eye

“When we see a rock wall blocking our way, God sees a barrier to guard us someday.”
― Carolyn Cutler Hughes, Through God's Eye

“When we think our countless ideas are great, God knows His ideas are best when we wait.”
― Carolyn Cutler Hughes, Through God's Eye

“When we see our world is about to unwind,God sees an image of His perfect design.”
― Carolyn Cutler Hughes, Through God's Eye

“Halt glared at his friend as the whistling continued.
'I had hoped that your new sense of responsibly would put an end to that painful shrieking noise you make between your lips' he said.
Crowley smiled. It was a beautiful day and he was feeling at peace with the world. And that meant he was more than ready to tease Halt 'It's a jaunty song'
'What's jaunty about it?' Halt asked, grim faced. Crowley made an uncertain gesture as he sought for an answer to that question.
'I suppose it's the subject matter' he said eventually. 'It's a very cheerful song. Would you like me to sing it for you?'
'N-' Halt began but he was too late, as Crowley began to sing. He had a pleasant tenor voice, in fact, and his rendering of the song was quite good. But to Halt it was as attractive as a rusty barn door squeaking.
'A blacksmith from Palladio, he met a lovely lady-o'
'Whoa! Whoa!' Halt said 'He met a lovely lady-o?' Halt repeated sarcastically 'What in the name of all that's holy is a lady-o?'
'It's a lady' Crowley told him patiently.
'Then why not sing 'he met a lovely lady'?' Halt wanted to know.
Crowley frowned as if the answer was blatantly obvious.
"Because he's from Palladio, as the song says. It's a city on the continent, in the southern part of Toscana.'
'And people there have lady-o's, instead of ladies?' Asked Halt
'No. They have ladies, like everyone else. But 'lady' doesn't rhyme with Palladio, does it? I could hardly sing, 'A blacksmith from Palladio, he met his lovely lady', could I?'
'It would make more sense if you did' Halt insisted
'But it wouldn't rhyme' Crowley told him.
'Would that be so bad?'
'Yes! A song has to rhyme or it isn't a proper song. It has to be lady-o. It's called poetic license.'
'It's poetic license to make up a word that doesn't exist and which, by the way, sound extremely silly?' Halt asked.
Crowley shook his head 'No. It's poetic license to make sure that the two lines rhyme with each other'
Halt thought for a few seconds, his eyes knitted close together. Then inspiration struck him.
'Well then couldn't you sing 'A blacksmith from Palladio, he met a lovely lady, so...'?'
'So what?' Crowley challenged
Halt made and uncertain gesture with his hands as he sought more inspiration. Then he replied. 'He met a lovely lady, so...he asked her for her hand and gave her a leg of lamb.'
'A leg of lamb? Why would she want a leg of lamb?' Crowley demanded
Halt shrugged 'Maybe she was hungry”
― John Flanagan, The Tournament at Gorlan

“Down vith children! Do them in!
Boil their bones and fry their skin!
Bish them, sqvish them, bash them, mash them!
Brrreak them, shake them, slash them, smash them!
Offer chocs vith magic powder!
Say “Eat up!” then say it louder.
Crrram them full of sticky eats,
Send them home still guzzling sveets.
And in the morning little fools
Go marching off to separate schools.
A girl feels sick and goes all pale.
She yells, “Hey look! I've grrrown a tail!”
A boy who's standing next to her
Screams, “Help! I think I'm grrrowing fur!”
Another shouts, “Vee look like frrreaks!
There's viskers growing on our cheeks!”
A boy who vos extremely tall
Cries out, “Vot's wrong? I'm grrrowing small!”
Four tiny legs begin to sprrrout
From everybody rrround about.
And all at vunce, all in a trrrice,
There are no children! Only MICE!”
― Roald Dahl, The Witches

“It starts off like climbing a tree or solving a puzzle - poetry, if nothing else, is just fun to write. But deeper into each and every piece, you no longer hesitate to call it work. It's passion. A poet's sense of lyrical accomplishment is then his food and water, his means of survival.”
― Criss Jami, Killosophy

“First the colors.
Then the humans.
That's usually how I see things.
Or at least, how I try.
***HERE IS A SMALL FACT***
You are going to die.”
― Markus Zusak

“Silver bullets and a stake in the heart
But the cross still awakens my heart
I'm the freak of nature that's all
Darling it's not the way that you are”
― Criss Jami, Salomé: In Every Inch In Every Mile

“I am
the impossibility of desiring
the person you pity.
And the petal of the Easter lily—”
― Laura Kasischke, Space, in Chains

“I’m afraid the sleigh is wrecked,” said Santa, “and we do not have a spare!”

“We must cancel Christmas,” he said; but his wife replied, “We must not dare!”
― Glynn Gomes, Santa's Magic Cookie Train

“I rhyme
To see myself”
― Seamus Heaney

“You might see that I am a writer for a reason. In speech and from my mouth we taste the words unseasoned. It's teasing the truth which to my mind reeks of treason.”
― Criss Jami

“A is for the angelfish that amble around,
B is for the bay where the barnacles are found
C is for the clownfish in the coral reef
D is for the diver discovering the deep”
― Gareth Simmonds, ABC at the Sea: The Rhyming Alphabet Ocean Book

“In the beginning God made the seas, the mountains, the heavens, and buffalo knees. He made lilies, and dew drops, and snail shells, and roses, and dippers, and yappers, and snappers, and noses.”
― Lois Greiman, Buffalo Knees

“He looked from His heavens and saw it was good, the toes and the crows all looked like they should. The bunny was quick, the finch bright as a daisy, the owl flew at night, and the tortoise was lazy.”
― Lois Greiman, Buffalo Knees

“It demands desire of Zulykha
Loyalty of Angels
Vehemence of devils
And patience of Prophet
You may too need
God's mouth
To reveal rhyming letters”
― Mirza Sharafat Hussain Beigh

“Just Keep Grinning Till The World Stops Spinning”
― Chetan Gowda

“She looked in the cupboards to get some ideas. "I've got it!" she shrieked. "I'll make Bat Ear Tortillas!”
― Stuart McDonald

“Raw red cliffs that you
stumbled down into your own shadow
haven't kept you away, or soft
red lights and strange electrical
music that I play.”
― Joy Harjo, She Had Some Horses

“It’s Okey-Dokey to play the Hokey Pokey in Cahokia Poem

You cannot play the Oompa-pah in Galaxy Andromeda.
You cannot do the Can-can in Afghanistan.
You cannot play ping-pong while sounding a gong.
You cannot tick a tock when your name’s Mum to tick-a-lock.
Gainsay or naysay to play the Cha-Cha in Panama.
Nix beatnik tricks playing Second Fiddle doing a Paradiddle.
Try not to play off-key when you know you have bats in your belfry.
But it is Okey-Dokey to play the Hokey Pokey in Cahokia.

--Poems that Will Never See the Light of Day, vol. I”
― Douglas Laurent

“Shayari?
Main toh sirf sach ki tukbandi karta hoon

Poetry?
I just rhyme the truths”
― Vineet Raj Kapoor

“Sammie says, "Happiness from a joyful walk, is sharing friendship, laughter, and talk.”
― D.R. Gallardo, Sammie the Support Shepherd

“By far, the hardest part regarding a work of art, apart from the start, is knowing precisely when to stop...It's growing up, finding that most glowing and top spot, ascending to where its highest peak is reached...before descending for the deepest, darkest drop.”
― Criss Jami

“Well wrap my nuts around a pole and call me mary, looks like you just popped your cherry!”
― Ryan C. Thomas, The Summer I Died

“Looking through rose colored glasses doesn’t presume we don’t see what’s real and true, but it does mean we’re choosing a lovely hue for a more optimistic view.”
― LeAura Alderson

“Poetic words I write for you
Your lips are damp like sweet honey dew
Our love resembles a summer song
Cherishing each other all night long
Your soft hands brings chills within
I love your face that wears your grin”
― Brittany Benko, Poetic Poems and Prose

“The rhyming of rhymes is a powerful form of self-medication.”
― Nicholson Baker, The Anthologist

“In this world, by law of gravity, it seems rather the nature of things, and a reality, that 'slippery slope' is hardly a fallacy.”
― Criss Jami