Metaphor Quotes Novels & Stories

“When you find yourself in a hole, stop digging and try filling it instead” stared at me in big blocky white letters. I stared at the motivation quote with the backdrop of an early morning beach of some crystalline blue ocean and wondered why I thought tacking that up in my locker was a good idea. I wasn’t even sure it made sense. “Robin Douglass, you are an idiot,” I whispered as I shook my head. That would explain why I’d think tacking up some silly quote would somehow change the insignificance and dullness of my life.

“It unnerves people.” “It does,” she admitted. “Some are beginning to feel exposed.” “That suggests they’re standing in places they didn’t expect to be illuminated.” A faint smile flickered across her expression. “You enjoy metaphor.” “I enjoy precision,” I said. “Metaphor just makes it easier to swallow.” She exhaled. “You understand that this stalemate cannot continue indefinitely.” “No,” I said. “But I understand who it benefits while it does.” “And who is that?” “Those hoping I’ll mistake frustration for failure,” I replied.

I ask jokingly, flipping my hair and winking in his direction. He laughs; a free, melodic sound that seems to diffuse into the breeze and resonate all around us, silencing the hustle and bustle of the streets around us. “She was all that, yes.” He says, and my demeanor falls at his use of the past tense. “But you remind me of her cause you’re both… conflicted, in a way. I can’t really explain it, but it’s like looking down a frozen lake, trying to understand if what I’m seeing is a fish or my reflection.” He pauses, shakes his head and laughs, but it sounds bitter this time. “I’m terrible at metaphors.”

"Too much?" I didn't look up from my screen. "It depends. Is the villainy supposed to smell like manure? Because if so, it's perfect." He chuckled, scribbling a note. "Point taken. How's the opus going? Captured the existential angst of sedimentary rock yet?" "I'm trying to explain how being relentlessly pounded by the ocean is a metaphor for personal growth, yes," I said, deleting yet another overly florid sentence. "Sounds painful. And damp." He set his notebook aside. "You know, all this talk of tumbling... it's given me an idea."

It is good for lesser men to see the outlines of plans they will never touch. “I don’t like waiting,” he says, petulant. “I know,” I say, and make the sympathy soft enough to insult. “That is why your life looks like this. Learn. You are useful because you are an arrow. Arrows do not demand to be thrown at once. They become kindling when they do.” He winces. Good. Some metaphors deserve pain.

This was no feel-good fluff piece meant to reinforce some trite, overexploited message like 'love was real' or 'love always triumphs. Gray and I weren't actors. Our clothes weren't from a wardrobe department. Our words weren't printed on a script. Our home wasn't a set full of curated props. Our happy ending wasn't guaranteed. In our living room, I spoke ad libitum, straight from my heart. With her beside me on the couch, I told her how things had changed for me. Working within the confines and limitations of language, I turned to metaphor, to simile. As evinced by the mere existence of poetry itself—to concretize ambiguous ideas such as 'love' or 'happiness' using plain language always, alw

Strong-willed. These were some of the adjectives. There was a quote written at the bottom in cursive under inverted commas. “She's alone, but stronger and better than a whole army.” Vera's lips curved up and a deep sense of warmth exploded in her chest. The quote was easy on the eyes but very jarring. And it came from 12 years old girls.

She found Joel still seated comfortably as he bobbed his head to the music in his ears. Shooting him a killing look, she sat on one of the chairs close to the door. The motivational posters of various colours that decorated the sky-blue painted walls caught her attention. And most of them, she observed, contained quotes from famous people. Some she had heard of and some she had read about. "A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong it is until it's in hot water." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt. That one made her smile. “The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." ~ Nelson Mandela

Dangerous in its clarity. “Words matter,” Elowen said. “Especially when they are all people have.” Mara stiffened. “She did not lie.” “I did not say she did,” Elowen replied calmly. “I said truth can still starve people.” The corridor seemed to press in around them. “And certainty can still burn them,” Alina said. Elowen’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “We are both tired of metaphors.” “Then speak plainly.” Elowen stepped closer. Not invading. Measuring distance.

A few seconds later, she looks up. “Try summarizing with your own metaphors,” I add. “Whatever image comes first. It sticks longer.” “Even if it’s dumb?” “Especially if it’s dumb.” She smiles faintly and begins writing. I leaned over, flipped her book to a fresh page. The Stranger, Camus. A classic. “Read the first paragraph. Then stop.” She obeyed. I asked, “What does the tone tell you?” “That the narrator’s... cold?” “Cold is a temperature. Try again.”