Children S Rhyme Quotes & Sayings

That weekend my people brought home
a big eared gray scrawny kit.
He was so loud and annoying
that I did not like him one bit. — Melinda K. Trotter

Ambition, in one respect, is like a singer's voice; pitched at too high a key, it breaks and comes to nothing. — Christian Nestell Bovee

I like it that my career has all the predictability and continuity of a children's nonsense rhyme. — Nick Bantock

The last condescended from Academy spires Pretended at life with a cold, dead heart Face like a crypt, from a family of liars Quietly, quietly played . . . her . . . part. - Children's nursery rhyme — K.D. Castner

The meaning of life is to become a saint. — Peter Kreeft

I miss it, I miss it, I miss it, I make it. — Seve Ballesteros

Children seem naturally drawn to poetry - it's some combination of the rhyme, rhythm, and the words themselves. — Jack Prelutsky

The ability to inspire rather than enforce loyalty is a critical quality of leadership. — Geoffrey Hindley

A glassy calm replaced the storm surrounding their boat.
The distant thunder struck a note, white-hot and remote.
An invisible magnet seemed to steer their course.
The island pulled them in with its dreamy force. — J.Z. Bingham

Let the galled jade wince; our withers are unwrung. — William Shakespeare

A nursery rhyme shapes your bones and nerves, and it shapes your mind. They are powerful, nursery rhymes, and immensely old, and not toys, even though they are for children." "But they make no sense!" Summer protested "Ah, well," said Ben. "Sometimes sense hides behind walls. You must find a window and stick your head right in before you can see it. — Katherine Catmull

What is that old children's rhyme, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me'? Anyone who says that doesn't understand the power of words. They can cut deeper than any knife, hit harder than any fist, touch parts of you that nothing physical will ever reach, and the wounds that some words leave never heal, because each time the word is thrown at you, labeled on you, you bleed afresh from it. It's more like a whip that cuts every time, until you feel it must flay the very skin from your bones, and yet outwardly there is no wound to show the world, so they think you are not hurt, when inside part of you dies every time. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I have a little nursery rhyme for all you children out there, something even the Godfather can understand. 'You can prance and you can dance, but when it comes to relations, keep it in your pants. — Kurt Angle

The Christian conceives of his abode on Earth in no more delightful colors than the Jainist sectarian. He sees in it only a time of sad trial; he also thinks that his true country is not of this world. — Emile Durkheim

Kids use words in ways that release hidden meanings, revel the history buried in sounds. They haven't forgotten that words can be more than signs, that words have magic, the power to be things, to point to themselves and materialize. With their back-formations, archaisms, their tendency to play the music in words
rhythm, rhyme, alliteration, repetition
children peel the skin from language. Words become incantatory. Open Sesame. Abracadabra. Perhaps a child will remember the word and will bring the walls tumbling down. — John Edgar Wideman

Black for hunting through the night
For death and mourning the color's white
Gold for a bride in her wedding gown
And red to call the enchantment down
White silk when our bodies burn
Blue banners when the lost return
Flame for the birth of a Nephilim
And to wash away our sins.
Gray for the knowledge best untold
Bone for those who don't grow old
Saffron lights the victory march
Green to mend our broken hearts
Silver for the demon towers
And bronze to summon wicked powers
-Shadowhunter children's rhyme — Cassandra Clare

If in poetry court she was called
to testify on matters where
I was condemned to imprisonment: parking my ego
at a broken meter, line violations, forced rhyme,
dealing stanzaics to children, shooting
off my mouth, getting cute, for even this
latest attempt at verse, she would tell the whole truth,
she would admit from the pit
of her unsung brilliance,
from all of the paintings and poems
she herself has been making
and storing in the vast empire of her
singing soul, your Honor, my daughter is guilty
of plagiarizing my cells. — Kristen Henderson

Quitoon knew the world well. It wasn't jut Humankind and its works he knew, but all manner of things without any clear connection between them. He knew about spices, parliaments, salamanders, lullabies, curses, forms of discourse and disease; of riddles, chains, and sanities; ways to make sweetmeats, love and widows; tales to tell children, tales to tell their parents, tales to tell yourself on days when everything you know means nothing. — Clive Barker

Toilet paper unrolled and slithered
then wrapped around my tummy.
That paper tried to roll me up
into an Egyptian mummy. — Melinda K. Trotter

Accounts from Europe indicate that the danse macabre took another form, inspired by the Black Death, rather like our children's rhyme 'Ring o' Ring o' Roses', which refers to the Great Plague. In 1374, a fanatical sect of dancers appeared in the Rhine, convinced that they could put an end to the epidemic by dancing for days and allowing other people to trample on their bodies. It is not recorded whether they recovered but, incredibly, they began to raise money from bystanders. By the time they reached Cologne they were 500 strong, dancing like demons, half-naked with flowers in their hair. Regarded as a menace by the authorities, these dancers macabre were threatened with excommunication. — Catharine Arnold

Jill showed friend Kay the cute white mice.
They liked to run races for cheese.
Mice were lots of fun to play with.
Jill said, "Take Poopsie, the male one, please! — Melinda K. Trotter

The sad and solemn night hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires;
The glorious host of light walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;
All through her silent watches, gliding slow,
Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go. — William C. Bryant

Could it hurt to take a look? The answer was yes, of course. It's always yes. But I went anyway. — Mike Carey

In through the front door, Once around the back, Peek through the window, And off jumps Jack. - A RHYME TO TEACH CHILDREN TO KNIT — Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

It was scary. More than Sara could possibly know. More than anybody ought to know, or ever would. History wasn't for the general public
it never had been." ... Just one shot
A professional execution.
Without passion.
Almost without passion." ...
"He held Sara's hand for the last time. And Jill came tumbling after. he thought of the words in the children's rhyme. But Jack would not fall down. The day of ultimate madness had begun. Jack and Jill had finally begun. — James Patterson

He was trying to make it up to her, asking for forgiveness and seeking redemption all at once, sacrificing himself for her. It was a glimpse of who he'd once been, the poet her maman had fallen in love with. That man, the one before the war, might have known another way, might have found the perfect words to heal their fractured past. — Kristin Hannah

Violet
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see comment history Black for hunting through the night

For death and mourning the color's white

Gold for a bride in her wedding gown

And red to call enchantment down.

White silk when our bodies burn,

Blue banners when the lost return.

Flame for the birth of a Nephilim,

And to wash away our sins.

Gray for knowledge best untold,

Bone for those who don't grow old.

Saffron lights the victory march,

Green will mend our broken hearts.

Silver for the demon towers,

And bronze to summon wicked powers. — Cassandra Clare

She had chosen Dante because she found the rhyme scheme pleasingly jaunty, but she realized too late that the Inferno's tale of sinners being cruelly punished in the afterlife was much too bloody and disturbing to be suitable for young minds. Penelope could tell this by the way the children hung on her every word and demanded "More, more!" each time she reached the end of a canto and tried to stop. — Maryrose Wood

Many lyricists rhyme as they pronounce, and their pronunciation is simply horrible. They can make "home" rhyme with "alone," and "saw" with "more," and go right off and look their innocent children in the eye without a touch of shame. — P.G. Wodehouse

To brand man with infamy, and let him free, is an absurdity that peoples our forests with assassins. — John Philpot Curran

Kaylee giggled as he tunneled up inside her sleeve.
Out popped his head for a quick look, then he took leave.
He enjoyed scaling up, down and around her shirt.
What a sweet, funny and adorable flirt. — Melinda K. Trotter

I think a lover, when broken, is given a gift
not a scar, not a poem, not a rhyme
(unless it fits.)
I think as humans, we see a set of hues
but when wounded, we see something more:
deeper shades of hurt and worry,
colors never seen before.
Because I can't imagine a child
could see the same black as a widower,
and I don't think healthy hearts
know the true meaning of blue.
When children close their eyes,
they see a color they call empty.
But in the eyelids of the bruised,
the empty black's a crowded room. — Katya Polo

No Matter What
No matter what the world claims,
its wisdom always growing, so it's said,
some things don't alter with time:
the first kiss is a good example,
and the flighty sweetness of rhyme.
No matter what the world preaches
spring unfolds in its appointed time,
the violets open and the roses,
snow in its hour builds its shining curves,
there's the laughter of children at play,
and the wholesome sweetness of rhyme.
No matter what the world does,
some things don't alter with time.
The first kiss, the first death.
The sorrowful sweetness of rhyme. — Mary Oliver

If anyone else comes after your friends, you know what you have to do. Crush them. Make them an example that no one will forget. Hellequin's turned into a nursery rhyme to be told to naughty children - you need to make sure it's the adults who start checking under the bed. — Steve McHugh

Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm
stranded in the wrong time
where love is just a lyric in a children's rhyme — Bil Keane

I want out of this place.
With no reminders.
It stings -
sulphur tears
in cinnamon rain. — Emma Cameron