Ogden Nash Quotes

American poet (1902–1971)

Ogden Nash (19 August 1902 – 19 May 1971) was an American poet.

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Birth Name: Frederic Ogden Nash

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Once in a night as black as pitch
Isabel met a wicked old witch.
the witch's face was cross and wrinkled,
The witch's gums with teeth were sprinkled.
Ho, ho, Isabel! the old witch crowed,
I'll turn you into an ugly toad!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry.
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She showed no rage and she showed no rancor,
But she turned the witch into milk, and drank her.

"To keep your marriage brimming,
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you're wrong, admit it;
Whenever you're right, shut up."

~Happy birthday Ogden Nash! (born 8.19.1902)

LIFE BEGINS AT THE END OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE

Any hound a porcupine nudges
Can't be blamed for harboring grudges.
I know one hound that laughed all winter
At a porcupine that sat on a splinter.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

A WORD TO HUSBANDS

To keep your marriage brimming.
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you're wrong, admit it;
Whenever you're right, shut up.

Everybody who has a baby thinks everybody who hasn't a baby ought to have a baby,
Which accounts for the success of such plays as the Irish Rose of Abie,
The idea apparently being that just by being fruitful
You are doing something beautiful,
Which if it is true
Means that the common housefly is several million times more beautiful than me or you.

If you don’t want to work you have to work to earn enough money so that you won’t have to work.

Parsley is gharsley.

Just when you think that at least the outlook is so black that it can grow no blacker, it worsens,
And that is why I do not like the news, because there has never been an era when so many things were going so right for so many of the wrong persons.

If some confectioners were willing
To let the shape announce the filling,
We'd encounter fewer assorted chocs,
Bitten into and returned to the box.

I could not eat a kangaroo. But many fine Australians do. Those with cookbooks as well as boomerangs Prefer him in tasty kangaroo-meringues.

"Baclli swarm within my portals

Such as ne'r conceived by mortals,

But, bred by scientists,

Wise and hoary in some Olympian laboratory.

Bacteria as large as mice

With feet of fire and heads of ice,

Who never interrupt for slumber

Their stomping, elephantine rumba.

( From the poem — - " The Common Cold " )"

Progress might have been all right once, but it has gone on far too long.

You can have my jellyfish
I am not sellyfish