Quotes About Rhyme

A quote often misattributed to Mark Twain has it that "History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme.

I wouldn't be surprised if poetry - poetry in the broadest sense, in the sense of a world filled with metaphor, rhyme, and recurring patterns, shapes, and designs - is how the world works. The world isn't logical; it's a song.

See, you're out your mind tryin' to face tha God. Your rhyme is like an empty prison...a waste of bars.

I envy no man's nightingale or spring; Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme, Who plainly say, My God, My King.

The fact that something is in a rhymed form or in blank verse will not make it good poetry.

All those Nupboards in the Cupboards they're good fun to have about. But that Nooth gush on my tooth brush.....Him I could do without.

History never repeats itself; at best it sometimes rhymes.

History doesn't repeat itself; it rhymes.

History may not repeat, but it often rhymes.

I know I should be leaving this climate, I've got a verse, but can't rhyme it.

Next to theology I give to music the highest place and honor. And we see how David and all the saints have wrought their godly thoughts into verse, rhyme, and song.

History says, Don't hope On this side of the grave, But then, once in a lifetime The longed-for tidal wave Of justice can rise up, And hope and history rhyme

I think it's interesting that cologne rhymes with alone.

If you are not in some way living your life like a Dr. Suess rhyme, than you may in fact be living it wrong.

Sadness, it was such an arresting emotion. You could almost convince yourself of the rhyme and reason of heartbreak.

Mrs Pungent McShark was a horrible soul, Her face resembled a squashed sausage roll, She was bitter and twisted, heartless and cruel, With breath that smelt worse than a septic cesspool.

they would ride hell-for-leather part-way around the circle before seeking cover. They circled clockwise and counterclockwise. There was no rhyme or reason to it, an unpredictability that worked to their advantage.

Oranges and lemons Say the bells of St Clements You owe me five farthings, Say the bells of St Martin's When will you pay me Say the bells of Old Bailey When I grow rich Say the bells of Shoreditch When will that be Say the bells of Stepney I do not know Says the great bell of Bow

Creatures of clay, vain dwellers in the dust, lonely, we roam like the cloud, the wind, the wave, and all we see is a shadow of things unseen, and time that comes to flee Is but the broken echo of a rhyme In heart's great epic of Eternity.

In my song you catch at times Note sweeter far than mine, And in the tangle of my rhymes Can scent the eglantine.

From sunny woof and cloudy weft Fell rain in sheets; so, to myself I hummed these hazard rhymes, and left The learned volume on the shelf.

It's difficult to learn poems off by heart that don't rhyme.

Poetry consists in a rhyming dictionary and things seen.

Like many modern poets, I tend to conceal rhymes by placing them in the middle of lines, and to avoid immediate alliteration and assonance in favor of echoes placed later in the poems.