Quotes About Metaphor

It is interesting to think of the great blaze of heaven that we winnow down to animal shapes and kitchen tools.

Referring to the church as a building is like referring to people as two-by-fours.

What is natural depends upon point of view, the choice of metaphor, and therefore, the culture. The design difficulties occur when there is a switch in metaphors. Airplane

Truth, as Bergson knew, is a hard apple, whether one is throwing it or catching it.

My faith teaches me that the path to join souls in love must of necessity involve a crucifixion, and I think there's a metaphor in there for marriage.

The very conventions of poetry were devised to encode experience, to make it less obvious and thereby more true. To make a metaphor, after all, is to describe something in terms of what it is not , the better to apprehend what it is .

As if Riley and Amelia were lions, and we were a menage a trois of lively, prancing deer.

Bindy Mackenzie talks like a horse.

I always dream of a pen that would be a syringe.

The poet…is the man of metaphor: while the philosopher is interested only in the truth of meaning, beyond even signs and names, and the sophist manipulates empty signs…the poet plays on the multiplicity of signifieds.

la historia del deseo se organiza como un discurso que se desarrolla en lo insensato. Esto es el inconsciente. Los desplazamientos y condensaciones en el discurso del inconsciente son sin duda alguna lo que en el discurso en general constituyen desplazamientos y condensaciones, o sea, metonimias y metáforas. Pero aquí son metáforas que no engendran sentido alguno, y desplazamientos que no transportan ningún ser y en los cuales el sujeto no reconoce algo que se desplace.

La vie est une cerise La mort est un noyau L'amour un cerisier

La luna se puede tomar a cucharadas o como una cápsula cada dos horas. Es buena como hipnótico y sedante y también alivia a los que se han intoxicado de filosofía.

The night-soil men can see a bird walking in trees. It isn't a bird. It is a woman who has removed her skin and is on her way to drink the blood of her secret enemies. It is a woman who has left her skin i a corner of a house made out of wood. It is a woman who is reasonable and admires honeybees in the hibiscus.

It's just that you reach a point where metaphors become indistinguishable from the things they represent. And the life you ought to be living is the one you are living. And it feels like being born

Dancing is surely the most basic and relevant of all forms of expression. Nothing else can so effectively give outward form to an inner experience. Poetry and music exist in time. Painting and architecture are a part of space. But only the dance lives at once in both space and time. In it the creator and the thing created, the artist and the expression, are one. Each participates completely in the other. There could be no better metaphor for an understanding of the mechanics of the cosmos.

Dios hizo las nalgas para coger golpes.

Con cada libro adoptamos un miedo, pequeñito y delicado como un gusano de seda. El miedo a no hacer justicia a las palabras del otro, a no ser capaz de crear una metáfora digna del momento, un símbolo propio de esa voz o aquella mirada, el temor de habernos traicionado y escribir des del ego y no desde alma.

Con cada libro adoptamos un miedo, pequeñito y delicado como un gusano de seda. El miedo a no hacer justicia a las palabras del otro, a no ser capaz de crear una metáfora digna del momento, un símbolo propio de esa voz o aquella mirada, el temor de habernos traicionado y escribir desde el ego y no desde alma.

Mabel likened Lavinia's hand to a demented spider who has fallen into an inkwell.

Stories pass the experienced world back and forth between them as a metaphor, until it is worn out. Only then do we realize that meaning is an act. We must repossess it, instant to instant in our lives.

Driving home from work every day is a metaphor

People talk about the beauty of the spring, but I can't see it. The trees are brown and bare, slimy with rain. Some are crawling with new purple hairs. And the buds are bulging like tumorous acne, and I can tell that something wet, and soft, and cold, and misshapen is about to be born. And I am turning into a vampire.

Death's Brother is the name that poets give to sleep