Rhymes Quotes

“No more rhymes now I mean it!”

“Anybody want a peanut?”

“AAHH!”
― William Goldman, The Princess Bride

“Cheap little rhymes
A cheap little tune
Are sometimes as dangerous
As a sliver of the moon.”
― Langston Hughes

“Did I live the spring I’d sought?
It’s true in joy, I walked along,
took part in dance,
and sang the song.
and never tried to bind an hour
to my borrowed garden bower;
nor did I once entreat
a day to slumber at my feet.

Yet days aren’t lulled by lyric song,
like morning birds they pass along,
o’er crests of trees, to none belong;
o’er crests of trees of drying dew,
their larking flight, my hands, eschew
Thus I’ll say it once and true…

From all that I saw,
and everywhere I wandered,
I learned that time cannot be spent,
It only can be squandered.”
― Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

“Fezzik's in trouble, bubble bubble,
His brain is just not in the pink,
His mind is rubble, rub-a-dub double,
Because everyone needs him to think.”
― William Goldman, The Princess Bride

“In the boundaryless forests,
there’re dancers of nude.
Yet in the confines of pasture,
there’s promise of food.
On which is your side?
Ô, but tarry and bide,
ere you decide,
in both do confide.”
― Roman Payne

“When I die I hope it may be said:
'Her suffering was black, but her books were read'.”
― Shannon Alder

“Unless the object of the singer’s affection is a vampire, surely what Hart means is unphotogenic. Only vampires are unphotographable, but affectionate ‘-enic’ rhymes are hard to come by.”
― Stephen Sondheim, Finishing the Hat: Collected Lyrics, 1954-1981, With Attendant Comments, Principles, Heresies, Grudges, Whines, and Anecdotes

“When thinking is overrated
And friends are easy to make,
Check if it's too complicated
Knowing yourself somehow...
Inner peace's not hard to take,
Never lost or underestimated.
Get out of social media... NOW!”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, ACross Tic

“Silent our body is a sacred temple,
A place to connect with other people.
Can't we just stay any younger?
Really, we might keep it stronger,
Elated, rather than so tilted or feeble!!”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, ACross Tic

“In the garden,
just we two,
Look! I have a rose
for you ...”
― Suzy Davies

“Pay to go inside Neruda's home
A body lies there with no dome.
But right there in the front hall
Lean a fairy against the icy wall.
Oh Endless enigmas had the bard!

Nice and large and calm backyard
Ends In the middle of a rare room
Rare portrait of revelishing gloom.
Up climbing at the weird snail stair
Does make you grasp for some air.
And there's a room with bric-a-brac:

Old and precious books all in a pack.
Dare saying what I liked most of all?
Enjoyed seeing visitors having a ball!”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, ACross Tic

“Here there was a cheerful boy
At least he created tales and lived in joy.
Nursery rhymes his grandmother told,
Songs and tales emerged gladly in gold.

Caring heart, affection spoke loud as brighter,
He made the decision: he would be a writer!
Rising laughters, crying tears, many feelings,
Inserted everything and nothing was in vain.
So he transformed the ugly into beautiful,
Tales to amuse and make everyone sane,
In there he went, without daydreams or zeal.
As such it was born the icon of literature still.
No one denied he was exceedingly bountiful.

A ballerina loves the soldier in his world,
Nothing gets involved in his fairy tales,
Dancing from a poor weak boy to a king,
Eccentric prince of charm in winged corners!
Rare star of sweet tenderness,
Sensible and masterful in tenderness,
Emchanted kingdom of dreams and candor,
Now a divine fire of a soul he shines.

Havia um menino alegre porem so
Ao menos criava contos e deles vivia
Nas historias que contava sua avo,
Seus contos surgiam pois ele os via.

Carinho nao faltava em seu coracao ator,
Havia tomado a decisao: seria escritor!
Risos, lagrimas, sentimentos saos,
Inseria tudo e nada era em vao.
Transformava ate o feio em belo,
Inadvertia e divertia com seu elo,
Adiante ia, sem devaneios e zelo.
Nascia assim o icone da literatura.

A bailarina ama o soldado em seu mundo,
Nada se interpunha em seus contos de fadas,
De pobre menino fraco e cogitabundo,
Era principe de encantos em cantos alados!
Rara estrela de doce brandura,
Sensata e magistral em ternura,
Em seu reino de sonhos e candura,
No fogo divino de sua alma fulgura.”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, ACross Tic

“Kendrick stopped writing to make others feel comfortable; instead, he chose to elevate his thinking and make people catch up to him.”
― Marcus J. Moore, The Butterfly Effect: How Kendrick Lamar Ignited the Soul of Black America

“What a pretty little flower.
What a pretty poppy.
Pick it and watch it bleed.
Not so pretty any longer...”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

“What's up?
Not much. What's down?
The ground.
Silly Rhymes
Don't make sense
I'm starting to get tense...
Well, there is so many mimes
eating limes”
― Sarah Willey

“Rain's pouring and it's too cold.
All people bored and I even accord
What to do but spell a tale told:
So once upon a time a land in the shore...”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, ACross Tic

“My dear melancholy,
Enraged she's colic!
Lovely indeed a fellow
And so sweet a collie.
Never but so mellow
Can she be like a dolly?
However she's so frolic!
Or could she get yellow
Like a peach, but jolly?
You'll regret her follies!”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, ACross Tic

“This hunger drives me, no brakes. My flow of literacy releases dopamine, addicting like I'm dope selling to these fiends. It's literature fire, literal torture with these words. It's my element of art, ammo to my artillery of arsenals. Spit these words of ammo in reverse flow, subliminal speeches from prophets in the past like church rehearsals. Head shots to all without spiritual info., filled coffins of ignorance, streets lined up with a hearse full.”
― Jose R. Coronado, The Land Flowing With Milk And Honey

“Money readily rhymes with honey. The irony is that the journey to both is thorny. The testimony of those tasting money is in harmony with the above.”
― Vincent Okay Nwachukwu, Weighty 'n' Worthy African Proverbs - Volume 1

“Little Miss Assassin is as slow as molassin,” Janco sang.
“Molassin? That’s not even a word,” Ari called.
“Everyone’s a critic. I’d like to see you find a word that rhymes with assassin.”
― Maria V. Snyder, Shadow Study

“Thirteen is the most sinister of all the signs./ If you want to greet a gremlin, it will do just fine.”
― Susan Weiner

“Blood to earth, branch to bone, she holds your heart, she holds your home. Within her lies your fecund earth, within your hills, her blood brings birth. Now two are knit and one there be, the roots below the flowering tree.”
― Sarah K.L. Wilson, Dance With The Sword

“Time never stops
And life’s just a pause.
We think we the boss
But we living till we drop.
There’s peace in the lack
Of time give me back
Those years I didn’t live for the moment.
Own it.”
― Anthony Ortiz

“Shall I take that to mean I've encroached upon the Roach Guards this fine spring's eve?”
― Allie Ray, Suffering Fools

“Nothing on a bulldog's face
Seems to have a proper place
His eyelids droop
His jaws are square
His jowls are beyond compare
His nose looks like he's had a fight
He's got a great big underbite
you look at him and have to hoot
He so ugly that
he's cute”
― Marilyn Singer, It's Hard to Read a Map With a Beagle on Your Lap

“Fading into the space between the times
Since their last phrase to each other,
Their love vocalized,
But now the pain’s localized ,
It’s been fastened to the focal eye
Of the absence in his voice,
Closed captions of the passionate goodbye

What was the last thing he’d said to her?
It’s on the tip of her tongue,
She can’t remember what she’d heard,
Vowels ripped and consonants undone,
Stuck in the space between words,
Muted language that refuses to come

The silence stands between them,
Engulfed in a vast distance in time.
She would trade in an instant,
His syllables for the silence
In the depths of her mind.”
― Eric Overby, Hourglass in Grace

“Rhymes are rhymes, each rhyme a start,
few the rhymes per hour I write,
please just tell this to your heart:
search for me, no compass, quite.”
― Will Advise, На чист Български...: Pristine Bulgarian sayings...

“You say tomato, I say kumato. You say campari, I say a berry!”
― James Hauenstein

“From past soft rhymes pen present’s psalms:
When winter goes, spring brings rebirth.
Whilst priceless seasons cover us
There are seen angels on the earth.”
― Simona Prilogan, There are no goodbyes for us: Poems

“But something seemed funny,
even strange and surreal.
When she called her friends mouses,
was that right? What's the deal?”
― Joseph L. Licari, Mia's Mouses: Mia and Her Mouse Friends Learn About Plural Nouns