Quotes About Rhyme

There's more to hip-hop than just trying to make everything rhyme, and you find out in life that everything don't rhyme. The music they're cutting is musically fantastic.

Wait." Isabelle suddenly sat up straight. "What did you say that name was?" she demanded, turning to Jace. "The name in Clary's head." "I didn't," said Jace. "At least, I didn't finish it. It's Magnus Bane." He grinned at Alec mockingly. "Rhymes with 'overcareful pain in the ass.'" Alec muttered a retort into his coffee. It rhymed with something that sounded a lot more like "ducking glass mole." Clary smiled inwardly.

Alec muttered a retort into his coffee. It rhymed with something that sounded a lot more like "ducking glass mole.

Poetry consists in a rhyming dictionary and things seen.

And my Black bird, still not quitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On that pallid bust -- still flitting through my dolorous domain; But it cannot stop from gazing for it truly finds amazing That, by artful paraphrasing, I such rhyming can sustain-- Notwithstanding my lost symbol I such rhyming still sustain-- Though I shan't try it again!

Beans beans the magical fruit the more you eat the more you toot the more you eat the better you feel so let's eat beans for every meal.

Roy G. Biv" to remember the colors and she made up a rhyme: A rainbow is named Roy G. Biv To remember the colors and the joy they give.

Rhyming in itself is magic.

You know what rhymes with Friday? Alcohol.

To ensure accurate memorization, the officers composed their orders in rhyme, using a standardized system known to every soldier. The Mongol warriors used a set of fixed melodies and poetic styles into which various words could be improvised according to the meaning of the message. For a soldier, hearing the message was like learning a new verse to a song that he already knew.

You got a lot of girls out there that can rhyme and are underground, but it's sex appeal that makes people really big.

In rap, as in most popular lyrics, a very low standard is set for rhyme; but this was not always the case with popular music.

Pope's couplet again may possibly best convey the pomposity of some Idylls and the point of others. And there may be divers considerations of this kind. But, speaking generally, where the translator has not to intimate stanzas — where he has on the contrary to intimate that there are none — rhyme seems at first sight an intrusion and a suggestio falsi.

Several recent writers on the subject have laid down that every translation of Greek poetry, especially bucolic poetry, must be in rhyme of some sort. But they have seldom stated, and it is hard to see, why. There is no rhyme in the original, and primâ facie should be none in the translation.

Trippa, troppa, tronjes, De varken's in de boonjes, De koejes in de klaver, De paardeen in de haver, De eenjes in de water-plass! So groot myn kleine (here insert the little boy's or little girl's name)

It's important to me that my songs actually make sense. So often, I turn on the radio, and I have no idea what the people are singing about. It may sound good, but when you listen, they're just saying words that rhyme. It's another song about nothing.

So the first thing about the history of rhyme . . . is that it's all happened before. It's all part of these huge rhymeorhythmic circles of exuberance and innovation and surfeit and decay and resurrectional primitivism and waxing sophistication and infill and overgrowth and too much and we can't stand it and let's stop and do something else.

Green in nature is one thing, green in literature another. Nature and letters seem to have a natural antipathy; bring them together and they tear each other to pieces. The shade of green Orlando now saw spoilt his rhyme and split his metre.

At night, my dreams rhyme, and all day I have an aftertaste of insomnia.

In old times the lady-bird was believed to live in the sun, and the German children still have a rhyme telling it to fly away up to heaven and bring back the sunshine; and they believe that if they were to kill one of these insects the sun would not shine the next day.

Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese. Virgil, if I remember right, refers to it several times, but with too much Roman restraint. He does not let himself go on cheese. Except Virgil and the anonymous rhymer of "If all the trees were bread and cheese," I can recall no verse about cheese. Yet it has every quality which we require in exalted poetry. It is a short, strong word, and it rhymes to "breeze" and "seas." Cheese has also variety, the very soul of song.

Poetry treks through our souls and tells us in rhyme of the adventure.

A poet is a storm with a pen — splattering swashes of ink across the sky in bursts of fervor with words on fire whirling tempest-emblazoned rhyme

Inner thought: it is easier to make rhymes on a train; the lines come out the right length because the wheel clicks never miss their count. Idea: if we were a poet we would spend all our time on trains.