Sticks and stones will break our bones, but words will break our hearts.
Sticks and stones can break your bones, but names can kill you.
Sticks and stones, I'll break yer bones, but names ain't worth a quarrel.
My parents said sticks and stones will break your bones but names will never hurt you. But I always felt a sense of exhilaration after a fight; it was the names that really hurt me.
Sticks and stones may break bones, but the Gat will kill you quicker.
Sticks and stones and small caliber bullets may break my bones... Words will never, et cetera.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will make me go in a corner and cry by myself for hours.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can make me think I deserved it.
Sticks and stones may break your bones but words can hurt like hell.
Colin thought about the dork mantra: sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. What a dirty lie.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will always hurt me. Bones mend and become actually stronger in the very place they were broken and where they have knitted up; mental wounds can grind and ooze for decades and be re-opened by the quietest whisper.
People say sticks and stones may break your bones, but names can never hurt you, but that's not true. Words can hurt. They hurt me. Things were said to me that I still haven't forgotten.
Sticks and stones may break your bones, but Chinese throwing stars get you a dozen stitches.
..and only sticks and stones can break my bones.
I just think that as much as we say sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me - words do hurt.