Metaphorical Quotes

“When a poet digs himself into a hole, he doesn't climb out. He digs deeper, enjoys the scenery, and comes out the other side enlightened.”
― Criss Jami, Venus in Arms

“The explorer who will not come back or send back his ships to tell his tale is not an explorer, only an adventurer; and his sons are born in exile.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia

“Where death follows, there’s life. When darkness surrounds you in a world of chaos, search and you’ll eventually find the light.”
― Lee Argus, Chance Escape

“Forensics had taught her that scars left tissue much tougher than skin.”
― Alane Ferguson, The Dying Breath

“In the sea of life, you are my lighthouse, guiding me safely to the shore of your love.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“True love isn't about finding your missing piece, but cherishing the unique puzzle you create together.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Sometimes, the most powerful act of love is simply listening with an open heart.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“One fleece down, one to go.”
― Pattie Mallette, Nowhere but Up: The Story of Justin Bieber's Mom

“Love is the lighthouse that guides us through life's storms.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Love blooms where souls intertwine, creating a garden of endless possibilities.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Don't worry you will never find a rounded square”
― Greigon Selwyn Mott

“In your eyes, I see galaxies of love waiting to be explored.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“just as a sculptor will more easily carve a beautiful statue from rough marble than from marble already spoiled by a bungling workman.”
― Niccolò Machiavelli

“Une épidémie d'intolérance s'est abattue sur toute l'Europe.”
― Philippe Labro, Le petit garçon

“... There was a foolish and yet delicious sense of knowing himself as an animal come from the forest, drawn by the fire. He was a thing of brush and liquid eye, of fur and muzzle and hoof, he was a thing of horn and blood that would smell like autumn if you bled it out on the ground.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“But there is a great difference between Fanon's bloody knives and Sartre's bloody scalpel. True decolonization movements, from the American Patriots of the 1770s to the FLN in the 1950s, used actual violence to drive out their oppressors. Intellectuals who use the language of settler colonialism to critique their own society, in contrast, have no mass movement at their back. That has been the predicament of the ideology of settler colonialism from the beginning: everyone knows that calls to "eradicate," "kill," or "cull" settlers can only be metaphorical, so there is no need to put a limit on their rhetorical ferocity.

But what if there were a country where settler colonialism could be challenged with more than words? Where all the evils attributed to it--from "emptiness" to "not-enoughness" to economic inequality, global warming, and genocide--could be given a human face? Best of all, what if that settler colonial society were small and endangered enough that destroying it seemed like a realistic possibility rather than a utopian dream? Such a country would be a perfect focus for all the moral passion and rhetorical violence that fuels the ideology of settler colonialism. It would be a country one could hate virtuously--especially if it were home to a people whom Western civilization has traditionally considered it virtuous to hate.”
― Adam Kirsch, On Settler Colonialism: Ideology, Violence, and Justice

“Metaphor:
«Pues la perpetuidad no hace rima con la soledad, y los suplicios de tales desdenes, son los que os encumbran tan hartos de bienes»

Answer:
Sugiere que las cosas buenas en la vida pueden perder su valor si se experimentan en soledad, y que la experiencia del dolor y el rechazo puede ser lo que nos impulse a buscar más satisfacción y plenitud en nuestras vidas.”
― David Silvestre, Ortelius

“Es war einmal ein Pferd ohne Hals, dafür aber mit Kopf. Ein Mann ohne Job begegnete diesem Pferd auf einem Weg ohne Anfang. Der Mann setzte sich auf das Pferd, tätschelte seinen Kopf, der Kopf fiel, da auf keinem Hals befestigt, runter, rollte den Weg ohne Anfang entlang zum Ziel, wohin der Mann ihm nachlief, ihn aufhob uns sagte: "Jetzt kehre ich um, und betrachte das Ziel als Anfang, so dass der Weg plötzlich doch einen Anfang hat und dieser Defekt damit behoben ist."


Er nahm den Kopf untern Arm, stellte sich hinter das Pferd und begann, danach zu treten, damit es loslief. Es lief auch tatsächlich los, und zwar ziemlich schnellm ohne Hals und Kopf.
Der Mann kam kaum noch hinterher. Der Abstand vergrößerte sich immer mehr, denn der Weg hatte kein Ziel, und wäre der Mann nun abermals umgekehrt, hätte sich der Abstand nur rascher vergrößert, um sich vielleicht nie wieder verringern zu lassen. Das Problem des Mannes wuchs gewaltig.


Als ihm der Pferdekopf allmählich zu schwer wurde und er ihn dennoch nicht fallenlassen wollte, weil er sich nicht zu Unrecht dafür verantwortlich fühlte, war der Kopf doch nur aufgrund seiner Tätschelei vom Rumpf des Pferdes getrennt worden, da nahm der Abstand zu, und das Problem wuchs, und das Pferd galoppierte, und der Kopf des Tieres schlief ein, und es gab keine Lösung, keine Hoffnung und kein Ziel. Immerhin schien die Sonne.”
― Dietmar Dath, Verbotene Verbesserungen

“When he pulled up the nets, they contained only one kind of fish– black pomfres, the flat diamonds of their bodies slick in the morning light. The uniformity did not surprise him; over the years, he'd learned that the waters here were temperamental. They could be relied upon for a good catch, but from time to time they threw up only praws or squid, and other times colorful varieties of fish that weren't even supposed to be found in this region. He'd grown to accept the unpredictability, embracing it as a game to be played, like the reading of tea leaves or the grooves of a palm (Heng 217).”
― Rachel Heng, The Great Reclamation

“That evening, doodling in her book of True Things in the henhouse, Donkey drew a snake who had eaten another snake just barely smaller than itself and so was entirely full, from tip to tail. Then she decided that this snake-eating snake would actually be inside another snake, a rattlesnake, so she drew a third snake around it. And she knew that a king snake, immune to venom, would eat a rattlesnake, so she put a fourth snake around the others. She considered then that the snake doodle moved back in time. Before the biggest snake could eat the second-biggest snake, all the inside eating had to have happened already. What she had drawn could not logically be older snakes eating younger snakes but precisely the opposite. The younger snake grew up big enough to devour the older snake, who'd already devoured its elder, and so on back in time. The nested dolls Rose Thorn had given her were perhaps not mothers with babies inside them, but babies grown large enough to eat their mothers. All her life she was afraid of Herself eating her, but maybe there was--- also or instead--- an opposite problem.”
― Bonnie Jo Campbell, The Waters

“Thou Shalt Kill by Stewart Stafford

Today, an official declaration:
"The past's forbidden soil is virgin;
The present, a thunderous chariot,
To glory's gold destiny awaiting us.
Go forth and offer up sacrifices!"

But the blood we spilt was red,
Whichever body it spurted from.
Pleas for help, fused into one.
Witnesses to death grew jaded.

We made the living into the dead,
Forged museums of crowded streets,
In executioners' hoods at limp dawn.
Arising afresh to our deliverance.

© Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“You are the ink that colors the pages of my story.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“I'd heard on a podcast once about a Japanese technique for fixing broken pottery, where the artist would mix gold with glue, binding the cracks together and making them glow.
I wasn't the distraction, Ellie was saying. The book was, and all the burdens that came with it.”
― Sarah Chamberlain, The Slowest Burn

“I am a wilted flower. The rain didn’t come. I dried out.”
― Wiktoria Hankus

“Carnal Carnival Mirror by Stewart Stafford

In a stalker's heckle, a conjoined choice;
Dead end track or a charlatan voice?
Life's a twisted, poised inquisitor,
With a human stopgap answer visitor.

Blank slates skimmed in stony throe,
Viscous channels tempt furlough,
Wrecks of the wild and sentient sea,
Begging a craven harbour's charity.

Hear the liar's mantra chant;
That siren's song will gallivant;
Gossip's billow finds our sails;
Cohesion falters, verity bewails.

Hypocrites don suits they see fit,
Self-fulfilling phallusies they commit.
Our rulers shame, an unmasked brute,
Leaves fall down from prophecy's youth.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Great structure leans on support for a period of time, but when its purpose is fulfilled, the scaffolding is either reused or discarded.”
― Rifat Bin Halim

“At least then she had been beautiful in flames. Now she was just burned. A ruin.”
― Austin Taylor, Notes on Infinity

“In the tapestry of our love, every thread tells a story of devotion.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Love paints the sky with hues of sunrise, promising new beginnings.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements

“Love is finding someone who knows all your songs and sings them back to you.”
― Rendi Ansyah, Beyond the Bouquet: A Symphony of Love in Fifty Movements