Quotes By Author: Shel Silverstein
“Birds are flyin’ south for winter.Here’s the Weird-Bird headin’ north,Wings a-flappin’, beak a-chatterin’,Cold head bobbin’ back ‘n’ forth.He says, “It’s not that I like iceOr freezin’ winds and snowy ground.It’s just sometimes it’s kind of niceTo be the only bird in town.”
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“Pirate Captain Jim”Walk the plank,” says Pirate Jim”But Captain Jim, I cannot swim.””Then you must steer us through the gale.””But Captain Jim, I cannot sail.””Then down with the galley slaves you go.””But Captain Jim, I cannot row.””Then you must be the pirate’s clerk.””But Captain Jim, I cannot work.”
“An oak tree and a rosebush grew,Young and green together,Talking the talk of growing things-Wind and water and weather.And while the rosebush sweetly bloomedThe oak tree grew so highThat now it spoke of newer things-Eagles, mountain peaks and sky.”I guess you think you’re pretty great,”The rose was heard to cry,Screaming as loud as it possibly couldTo the treetop in the sky.”And now you have no time for flower talk,Now that you’ve grown so tall.””It’s not so much that I’ve grown,” said the tree,”It’s just that you’ve stayed so small.”
“The bridge will only take you halfway there, to those mysterious lands you long to see. Through gypsy camps and swirling Arab fair, and moonlit woods where unicorns run free. So come and walk awhile with me and share the twisting trails and wondrous worlds I’ve known. But this bridge will only take you halfway there. The last few steps you have to take alone.”
“If you are a dreamer come inIf you are a dreamer a wisher a liarA hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyerIf youre a pretender com sit by my fireFor we have some flax golden tales to spinCome in! Come in!”
“If you are a dreamer, come in,If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer…If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fireFor we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in!Come in!”
“One picture puzzle pieceLyin’ on the sidewalk,One picture puzzle pieceSoakin’ in the rain.It might be a button of blueOn the coat of the womanWho lived in a shoe.It might be a magical bean,Or a fold in the redVelvet robe of a queen.It might be the one little biteOf the apple her stepmotherGave to Snow White.It might be the veil of a brideOr a bottle with some evil genie inside.It might be a small tuft of hairOn the big bouncy bellyOf Bobo the Bear.It might be a bit of the cloakOf the Witch of the WestAs she melted to smoke.It might be a shadowy traceOf a tear that runs down an angel’s face.Nothing has more possibilitiesThan one old wet picture puzzle piece.”
“Rockabye Baby, in the treetopDont you know a treetopis no safe place to rock?And who put you up there,and your cradle too?Baby,I think someone down herehas got it in for you!”
“True storyThis morning I jumped on my horseAnd went for a ride,And some wild outlaws chased meAnd shot me in the side.So I crawled into a wildcats caveTo find a place to hideBut some pirates found me sleeping thereAnd soon they had me tiedTo a pole and built a fireUnder me—I almost criedTill a mermaid came and cut me looseAnd begged to be my brideSo I said id come back WednesdayBut I must admit I lied.Then I ran into a jungle swampBut I forgot my guide And I stepped into some quicksandAnd no matter how hard I triedI couldn’t get out, until I metA watersnake named ClydeWho pulled me to some cannibalsWho planned to have me friedBut an eagle came and swooped me upAnd through the air we fliedBut he dropped me in a boiling lakeA thousand miles wideAnd you’ll never guess what I did then—I DIED”
“The Little Boy and the Old ManSaid the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”Said the old man, “I do that too.”The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”I do that too,” laughed the little old man.Said the little boy, “I often cry.”The old man nodded, “So do I.”But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seemsGrown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.I know what you mean,” said the little old man.”
“If you are a dreamer come in”
“No DifferenceSmall as a peanut,Big as a giant,We’re all the same sizeWhen we turn off the light.Rich as a sultan,Poor as a mite,We’re all worth the sameWhen we turn off the light.Red, black or orange,Yellow or white, We all look the sameWhen we turn off the light.So maybe the way, To make everything rightIs for god to just reach outAnd turn off the light!”
“Anything is possible. Anything can be.”
“All The Woulda-Coulda-ShouldasLayin’ In The Sun,Talkin’ ‘Bout The ThingsThey Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda Done…But All Those Woulda-Coulda-ShouldasAll Ran Away And HidFrom One Little Did.”