He glanced back at the wall. How like a mirror, too, her face. Impossible; for how many people did you know who reflected your own light to you? People were more often—he searched for a simile, found one in his work—torches, blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people’s faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?
—  Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

sometimes it’s just as simple as 

i’m in love with you and you’re in love with me

we’re both committed to our faith, to each other, and to our relationship

sometimes it’s not a long soliloquy, including metaphors and simile and hyperbole

sometimes it’s really that simple

in a very simple way, i can sum up why this works

stovepipehat said:

why must we be outnumbered in our hatred for nicki minaj

I don’t know but she fucking sucks so fucking much I want to tear my skin off and jump into boiling water.

“Dick bigger than a tower, I ain’t talking about Eiffels”

Yes you are, you literally just set that metaphor up 5 words earlier. It’s either a tower or it isn’t. The Eiffel Tower is a tower. Which tower is it bigger than? Specifically the Eiffel? 

“Fuck those skinny bitches, fuck those skinny bitches in the club”

I think Nicki will find that her BMI is quite normal and is in no danger of morbid obesity. 

“So I pulled up in the Jag, and I hit him with a jab like
Dun duh dun dun dun dun dun”

This is a simile that simply does not make sense. What is Dun duh dun dun dun dun duh? Is she hitting him with a pot? What’s happening? The imagery in this is tragically lacking.

She’s worse than Lady Gaga and that’s saying something because Lady Gaga is shit.

anonymous said:

ha senso parlare di celti in italia?

assolutamente si.

Guarda, se ti interessa l’argomento ti posso dire vita morte e miracoli dei celti in Italia perchè la mia tesi di laurea è proprio su queste popolazioni.

Effettivamente parlare di celti è un po’ confusionario, perché è una parola che intende tantissimi diversi gruppi divisi per mezza Europa ma accomunati dalla lingua e da una simile religione. 

Ancora prima della discesa dei Galli nel nord Italia nel 390-388 a.C. questo territorio era abitato da numerosissime popolazioni celtiche che commerciavano in relativa tranquillità con Etruschi, Veneti e con il nord Europa.

5 Tips for Creating Great Metaphors & Similes

Aaaah, metaphors: they can be a writer’s best friend, or worst enemy (see what I did there?). When done well, they can add a whole other dimension to your writing. But you can’t necessarily just compare sadness to road kill and be on your merry way. Metaphor creation is a honed writing skill.

Before we hop to the 5 tips, let’s learn some terminology with the help of our buddy John Green, and our favorite metaphor from Looking for Alaska:

“So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.”

The best definition of a metaphor that I could come up with based on others I read was “a comparison that shows how two mostly dissimilar things are alike in a contextually important way”. So though people are not drops of water who fall from the sky, we learn that Miles feels “subdued” compared to Alaska, because we know how drizzle relates to a hurricane.

Metaphors have two parts: a tenor and a vehicle. The tenor is the actual thing being described—in the above quote, people, Miles, and Alaska are tenors. The vehicle is what the tenors are being compared to: rain, drizzle, and a hurricane, respectively.

Okay! Now that we’ve got that down, let’s get this show on the road:

Read More

Northern Wind
  • Northern Wind
  • City and Colour
  • Little Hell

You’re the Northern Wind
Sending shivers down my spine
You’re like falling leaves
In an autumn night

You’re the lullaby
That’s singing me to sleep
You are the other half
You’re like the missing piece

Oh my love
Oh my love
Oh my love
You don’t know
What you do to me, to me

You are all four seasons
Rolled into one
Like the cold December snow
In the warm July sun

I’m the jet black sky
That’s just before the rain
Like the mighty current 
Pulling you under the waves

Oh my love
Oh my love
Oh my love
You don’t know what you do to me
To me
I’m the darkest hour
Just before the dawn
And I’m slowly sinking
Into the slough of despond

Like an old guitar
Worn out and left behind
I have stories still to tell
They’re of the healing kind

Oh my love
Oh my love
Oh my love
If I could just 
Find you tonight
If I could just find you tonight
Oh my love

Do do do (5X)

How vulnerable
we would all be if longing
shone through our bodies,

if our skins were translucent
lanterns flushed with yellow flame

leaping in the strange
and unpredictable winds
of our desire, like

the neon Morse code fireflies
use to brazenly flick the night.

—  Lee Ann Roripaugh, section 3 “Lumen” from “Bioluminescence,” in On the Cusp of a Dangerous Year (Southern Illinois University Press, 2009)