Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.
A mind is like a parachute. It doesn't work if it is not open.
A good simile,--as concise as a king's declaration of love.
Love is like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it.
People are like music, some speak the truth and others are just noise.
Life is like a simile.
A simile is like a pair of eyeglasses, one side sees this, one side sees that, the device brings them together.
Similes prove nothing, but yet greatly lighten and relieve the tedium of argument.
Life is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.
A simile is just a metaphor with the scaffolding still up.
A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.
Worrying is like paying a debt you don't owe.
A house without books is like a room without windows.
Some people are like Slinkies.They aren't really good for anything, but they still bring a smile to my face when I push them down a flight of stairs.
I went out on a date with Simile. I don't know what I metaphor.
Love is like a booger, you pick and pick at it. Then when you get it you wonder how to get rid of it.
In argument similes are like songs in love; they describe much, but prove nothing.
A simile committing suicide is always a depressing spectacle.
Never use a long word where a short one will do.
Like a lamp, dispelling the darkness of ignorance
Imagination is the highest kite one can fly.
Laws are like cobwebs, which may catch small flies, but let wasps and hornets break through.
A good speech should be like a woman's skirt: long enough to cover the subject and short enough to create interest
Old Marley was as dead as a doornail. Mind! I don't mean to say that, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a doornail.
My stern chase after time is, to borrow a simile from Tom Paine, like the race of a man with a wooden leg after a horse.
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