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Figurative Language Quotes

Browse 41 quotes about Figurative Language.

Figurative Language Quotes

“tonight the backyard is brutal in its twilit emptiness & I have put my lips on the glass of his face again so I won't be lonely & I have dressed to please him because it's too quiet here my hand alive in the cage of his an actual dandelion in the grass beside his sandal the mosquitoes grazing our ankles we should go inside he says as the pitchblack comes on again like arsenic over the glowing lawn”

BeautifulPoetryPoemRomanticLyricalDescriptiveFigurative LanguageDeborah LandauThe Last Usable Hour
Book:The Last Usable Hour
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“The literal sense of the author was "creation is the orderly act of a loving Creator God." What the modern reader often hears, however, is "The universe was made in six 24-hour days." This is as wrong-headed as taking me to mean I actually stood in line a million years or that my cardiac tissue has been torn in half or that Christ had delusions of being a grape plant. -- Making Senses of Scripture”

ChristianReligionChristianityBibleTheologyLiteralHermeneuticsFigurative LanguageFigurative
Author:Mark Shea
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“Sweet wine from Spain and gossip from France; the sun in the windows dimmed, sorrowed prettily as the day declined, until the candles' light was mirrored in the glass. Their dabbling flames were like guesses at a feeling, the hearth's fire like the feeling itself. It was a beautiful pastime she had missed; hours that had stepped light-footed on Emilia's memory and passed on.”

BeautifulLovelyDescriptionImageryDescriptiveFigurative LanguageThe HeavensSandra Newman
Book:The Heavens
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“When Rachel asks him about days before his life as a Wolff, he will scowl and fidget and so she learns to wait for his recollections and, because it is so difficult for him, she will listen without speaking, collecting the pieces of his past painstakingly like a jigsaw maker, or a batsman accumulating runs, in awe of the impossible distance between a sliver of blue and a great sky, between three runs and a century, between a shard of memory and memory itself.”

BeautifulMemoriesMemoryBe My WolffEmma RichlerRepressed MemoriesFigurative LanguageRecollectionsPainstaking
Book:Be My Wolff
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“He didn't really care if they felt that way or not: he just needed them to say it, he needed to feel that something lay beneath their imperturbable calm, that somewhere within them ran a thin stream of quick, cool water, teeming with delicate lives, minnows and grasses and tiny white flowers, all tender and easily wounded and so vulnerable you couldn't see them without aching for them.”

BeautifulMetaphorImageryFigurative LanguageA Little LifeHanya YanagiharaBeautiful Imagery
Book:A Little Life
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“This had been happening more and more often: the two of us come upon each other by accident in the early hours of the morning and take solace in each others' company, weathering out the peril of being awake at this time of night, when thoughts that are neatly ordered or justly murdered during the day come loose from their moorings and out of their graves, to tie themselves to each other in new and dangerous ways.”

ThoughtsMetaphorEarly MorningDexter PalmerPersonificationThe Dream Of Perpetual MotionFigurative LanguageLate Nights
Book:The Dream of Perpetual Motion
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“Figurative Fun by Stewart Stafford Neigh, neigh, Hyperbole! Galloping into wild mares' play. I'd yell, "Egregious slander streaker!" But it skulks 'neath its nudist speaker. Understatedness hides in a selfie's rear; Verbosity hogging limelight sans fear; Caustic parody, satire, and critique, Peddling wares in skewed oblique. Gossip's lip, stained in a bloody hue; Rumour's half-baked harmonies slew; Utterances bejewelled speak of love, Absolutes sting as a duellist's glove. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

HumorHumourIronySatireRhymeDark HumorWordplayDark HumourFigurative LanguageExperimental Poetry
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“He's a funny one," said Ida. "Here's how he sound." She pursed her lips and, expertly, imitated the red-winged blackbird's call: not the liquid piping of the wood thrush, which dipped down into the dry tchh tchh tchh of the cricket's birr and up again in delerious, sobbing trills; not the clear, three-note whistle of the chickadee or even the blue jay's rough cry, which was like a rusty gate creaking. This was an abrupt, whirring, unfamiliar cry, a scream of warning -congeree!- which choked itself off on a subdued, fluting note.”

SoundNatureFigurative LanguageBird Calls
Author:Donna Tartt
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“Tongues of Fire This is what's become of us: I am confused by mourning, and he is the sun that goes to sleep on top of me, undone by moonrise. Lover, all I speak is iambs and slant rhyme. That devil lamb of light called hope is sacrificed and none too pleased with having lost its bleat. The stone has rolled away but God's not gone and damn it, I'm no fan of the weather here, it rains too often, bones of doves and angel down until the ground stains red with sighs and blood. It is wet and cold. Will you explain again the why of all there is and how he caught me in the act, discovering God?”

PoetryReligionHopeHeavenPoemImageryFigurative LanguageJill Alexander Essbaum
Book:Heaven
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