Classic Quotes by Ann Taylor

1782-1866

English children’s writer and poet

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,,
Or kiss the place to make it well,
My mother.
- My Mother (st. 6)

Twinkle, twinkle, little star!,
How I wonder what you are,,
Up above the worlds so high,
Like a diamond in the sky!
- Rhymes for the Nursery–The Star

Thank you, pretty cow, that made,
Pleasant milk to soak my bread.
- The Cow

Sweet innocent, the mother cried,
And started from her nook.
That horrid fly is put to hide
The sharpness of the hook.
- The Little Fish that Would Not Do as It Was Bid
  

I ain’t much for shopping,
Nor even goin’ into town -
Except at cattle-shipping time,
I ain’t easily found.

But the day came when I had to go
And I left the kids with ma.
But before I left she asked me,
“Would you pick me up a bra?”

Without thinkin’ I said “Sure,”
How tough could that job be?
I bent down and kissed her
And said, “I’ll be back by three.”

Well, when I done the things I needed,
I started to regret
Ever offering to buy that thing,
I was working up a sweat.

I crossed the street to the ladies shop
With my hat pulled over my eyes,
I wasn’t takin’ any chances
On bein’ recognized.

I walked up to the sales clerk -
I didn’t hem or haw -
I told the lady right straight out,
“Ma’am, I’m here to buy a bra.”

From behind I heard some snickers,
So I turned around to see
At least fifteen women in the store
And they’s all gawkin’ at me!

“What kind would you be looking for?”
“Well,” I just scratched my head.
I’d only seen one kind before
“Thought bras was bras,” I said.

She gives me a disgusted look,
“Well sir, that’s where you’re wrong.
Come with me,” I heard her say,
And like a dog, I tagged along.

She took me down this alley
Where bras was on display.
Well, I thought my jaw’d hit the floor
When I seen that lingerie.

They had all these different styles
That I’d not seen before
I thought that I’d go crazy
‘fore I left that women’s store.

They had bras you wear for eighteen hours
And bras that cross your heart.
There was bras that lift and separate,
And that was just the start.

They had bras that made you feel
Like you weren’t wearing one at all,
And bras that you can train in
When you start off when you’re small.

Well, I finally make my mind up -
Picked a black and lacy one -
I told the lady, “Bag it up,”
And figured I was done

But then she asked me for the size.
I didn’t hesitate.
I knew them measurements by heart,
“A six-and-seven-eighths.”

“Six and seven eighths, well sir,
That really isn’t right.”
“Oh, yes ma’am! Yeah, I’m positive,
I just measured them last night.”

I thought that she’d go into shock,
Musta took her by surprise
When I told her that my wife’s bust
Was the same as my hat size.

“That’s what I used to measure with,
I figured it was fair,
But if I’m wrong, I’m sorry ma’am.”
This drew another stare.

By now a crowd had gathered
And they’s all crackin’ up
When the lady asked to see my hat,
To measure for the cup.

When she finally had it figured,
I gave the gal her pay.
Then I turned to leave the store,
Tipped my hat and said, “Good day.”

My wife heard the whole story
‘fore I ever made it home.
She’d talked to fifteen women
Who’d called her on the phone.

She was still a-laughin’
But by then I didn’t care.
Now she don’t ask and I don’t shop
For no more women’s underwear.

6 7/8 or there abouts…

                       Starkle, starkle, little twink,
                       Who the hell you are I think,
                       I’m not under what they call
                       The alcofluence of incohol.
                       I’m not drunk as thinkle peep,
                       I’m just a little slort of sheep.
                       Tee martoonis make a guy
                       Fool so feelish, don’t know why
                       Rally don’t know who’s me yet
                       The drunker I stay the longer I get
                       So just one more to full my cup,
                       I’ve all day sober to Sunday up.

My forgetter’s getting better,
But my rememberer is broke
To you that may seem funny
But, to me, that is no joke

For when I’m “here” I’m wondering
If I really should be “there”
And, when I try to think it through,
I haven’t got a prayer!

Oft times I walk into a room,
Say “what am I here for?”
I wrack my brain, but all in vain!
A zero, is my score.

At times I put something away
Where it is safe, but, Gee!
The person it is safest from
Is, generally, me!

When shopping I may see someone,
Say! “Hi” and have a chat,
Then, when the person walks away
I ask myself, “Who was that?”

Yes, my forgetter’s getting better
While my rememberer is broke,
And it’s driving me plumb crazy
And that isn’t any joke.

There is a chasm
of carbon and silicon
the software can’t bridge.

Yesterday it worked
Today it is not working
Windows is like that

To have no errors
Would be life without meaning
No struggle, no joy

You step in the stream,
but the water has moved on.
This page is not here.

No keyboard present
Hit F1 to continue
Zen engineering?

Hal, open the file
Hal, open the damn file, Hal
Open the file, please Hal

Out of memory.
We wish to hold the whole sky,
But we never will.

Having been erased,
The document you’re seeking
Must now be retyped.

The ten thousand things
How long do any persist?
Netscape, too, has gone.

Rather than a beep
Or a rude error message,
These words: “File not found.”

Serious error.
All shortcuts have disappeared
Screen. Mind. Both are blank.

The Web site you seek
cannot be located but
countless others exist

Three things are certain:
Death, taxes, and lost data.
Guess which has occurred.

Everything is gone;
Your life’s work has been destroyed.
Squeeze trigger (yes/no)?

Windows Seven crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.

Seeing my great fault
Through darkening blue windows
I begin again

The code was willing,
It considered your request,
But the chips were weak.

Printer not ready.
Could be a fatal error.
Have a pen handy?

A file that big?
It might be very useful.
But now it is gone.

Errors have occurred.
We won’t tell you where or why.
Lazy programmers.

Server’s poor response
Not quick enough for browser.
Timed out, plum blossom.

Just a line to say I’m living,
That I’m not among the dead.
Though I’m getting more forgetful
And more mixed up in the head.

For sometimes I can’t remember,
When I stand at foot of stairs,
If I must go up for something,
Or if I’ve just come down from there.

And before the fridge so often
My poor mind is filled with doubt
Have I just put food away?…or
Have I come to take some out?

And there’s times when it is dark out,
With my night cap on my head
I don’t know if I’m retiring
Or just getting out of bed.

So…if it’s my turn to write you
There’s no need of getting sore,
I may think that I have written
And don’t want to be a bore!!

So, remember..I do love you
And I wish that you were here,
But now it’s nearly mail time,
So I must say good-bye my dear.

There I stood beside the mail box
With a face so very red
Instead of mailing you my letter,
I had opened it instead!!

My bifocals fit – my dentures are fine
My hearing aid works…but ..I do miss my mind!!!

– Author Unknown

this is the poem I wrote to celebrate Bailey’s 4TH year of being a guide dog.

When You and I Became A We
Golden fur,Four big paws,Two soft ears,sixteen clippy-cloppy claws,One cold, wet nose,Two beautiful brown eyes,One wagging tail,That is forever hitting
my thighs.
Beautiful you are,From nose to tail,Lovely you seem,And you hardly ever fail To prove your love,Your trust, dedication and loyalty,And four years ago,You
and I became a we.
A team,A partnership,A bond so strong,When you stand beside me,In harness so clean and bright,Nothing seems wrong,And all seems right.
Your bouncy ways when you get excited,Your sulky face when I tell you “no!”Your happiness when its food time,And your dedication when I say, “Time to go!”Your
loyalty as you guide me,Through the streets we both have learnt,Your my eyes and my companion,And no matter what life brings it will never hurtSo much
if you are there,Standing strong by my side,Wagging tail at new friends,Happy bounces at your four-legged ones.
Still a puppy at heart,But a great mobility aid to me,That is why I am grateful,That four years ago you and I became a we.
Sitting to be stroked,When you’re off duty and just a dog,Head so proudly held you’d think you were King of the hogs.Drooling as we pet you,Enjoying the
attention and love,A wonderful buddy you turned out to be,Four years ago when you and I became a we.
We nicknamed you Lord Bailey,As you give off that aristocratical air,Your paws tucked in and your nose held high,And sniff around with that superior glare.Sleeping
so peacefully,In your many beds,Curled up on the living room rug,Or sprawled out on your cushion bed,Jumping with joy as you get a weekly treat,snacking
on the ears of pigs because you’re not fond of the feet,Chewing your bones so loudly,So loud we have to turn up the TV,
Groaning at my feet when I’m studying,You never seem in peace,Twitching and running you go,While you’re soundly asleep,And yet hearing all these noises
it makes me Feel so much at ease.
I feel safe while you’re beside me,You bark to warn of your fear,You sit beside me when I laugh,Nuzzle me when I have tears,When you’re sick I’m beside
you,And it pains me to see you sad,You’re a wonderful best friend/companion,A bonny big old lad.
Some think you’re still in training,Others think you’re old,But I know what you are to me,My furry friend with a heart of gold.Sometimes you’re mischievous
and have to be told off,And sometimes you’re a crazy fool and make me want to laugh,Others you just lay down calmly and quietly at my knees,And I am so
grateful four years ago, You and I became a we.
You guide me through busy streets with ease,Dodge all the lamposts and things,You may sniff the odd bin or two,But you’re a dog and I know dogs have needs.You
run free whenever we get chance,And I love to see you play,And in my heart I keep you safe,For today and all days.You stop at kerbs to warn me,The road
is just right there,You wait to be told to cross,And at “forward” you take me there,You find the shops we need,And sometimes you pretend you don’t hear,I
guess some shops you hate to be in,And then others you would never fear,You know where I like to go,After us being together so long,You know when you’ve
been good or bad,and you know when you’re right and when you’re wrong,You trudge come rain or shine,You plod on even when you’re tired and want to sleep,But
for all your help I am grateful,Four years ago when you and I became a we.
A special dog you are,Like so many others through this world,Gifted to be patient, honest and true,And put my safety on your list of things to do.You ask
for warmth, comfort, food, water and care,And all you truly need other than that is A cuddle or two here and there.So calm and efficient yet Still a crazy
hound,Your personality makes me love you so,And want you to always stick around,The bond we share so special,Your company preferencial,Your presence a
comfort and soMy love is consequential.
So on this day when you became my eyes,When officially you became my best friend,I want you to know I appreciate all that you do,And will until the very
end,So when others understand that bond,Or see you the way I see,Then they will surely know why I am grateful,Four years ago when you and I became a We!
 

The finest culture
 Comes from Frontz
And hoe-knee-swat-key
 Molly-ponce!

Sally learned
 To speak in French
She’s now a dame
 And not a wench

Dick acquired
 That language fair
And now he’s swayve
 And deb-an-err

Speaking French
 Will prove you’re better
Show you’ve got a
 Rays-on-debtor

Read in French
  And sack-ray-blue!
You’re sure to find
 Your tom-pair-doo

Write in French
 And you’ll be famous
Just like muss-your
 Albert Camus

You can bet
 Your dairy-air
Your French will prove
 Your salve-war-fare

He who is
 A true believer
Shows his Gallic
 Joyed-a-fever

French cuisine
 Is all the rage
So drink Bored-O
 With soft from-age

Wear a little
 Black beret
And eat cross-ants
 With French calf-A

Then there’s all
 That art you know
So speak bow-czar
 And art-new-foe

And what a joy
 To smoke Get-tans
While watching films
 That come from Cans

I guess it’s not
 An easy job
To be a phony
 Stuck-up snob…

Such games in Frontz
 They also play
But there “c’est snob”
 To speak anglais!