A collection of similes.

"I know what an analogy is! It's like... a thought... with another thought's hat on." — Britta Perry

[bestsimiles]

The door of the upstairs parlor gaped like a dark mouth. From the study, a bar of dimmed gold light lay across the carpet like a dropped scarf.

from Those Who Hunt the Night by Barbara Hambly

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

Give me that dark moment; I will carry it everywhere like a mouthful of rain.

Mary Oliver, from “Pen and Paper and a Breath of Air: Excerpts,” Blue Pastures (Harvest, 1995)

[bestsimiles]

That smile: it was like something she had set a match to a long time ago and then left to smolder on by itself. She had a lovely upper lip, prominent, like a baby's, soft-looking and a little swollen, as if she had done a lot of kissing recently, and not kissing babies, either.

Benjamin Black, The Black-Eyed Blonde

[bestsimiles]

When I arrived at Dartmouth College in 1997, my attitude toward alcohol was that it was a delicious and dangerous treat that, when obtained, needed to be ingested quickly in case someone tried to take it away. You know, the way a racoon eats from a garbage can.

Mindy Kaling, Why Not Me?

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

A poem arrives like a hand in the dark.

Yahia Lababidi, from “Angels and Demons: Aphorisms,” AGNI Online (2016)

[bestsimiles]

She wore a hat, too, a skimpy affair that made it seem as if a small bird had alighted on the side of her hair and settled there happily.

The Black-Eyed Blonde, Benjamin Black

[bestsimiles]

My thoughts had scattered like a flock of baby chicks at a petting zoo.

Lisa Kleypas, Brown-Eyed Girl

[bestsimiles]

He had a lazy, easy way of talking, as if every word had been simmered for hours over a low flame.

Lisa Kleypas, Brown-Eyed Girl

[bestsimiles]

It's turning out to be a bad day, a day when the sun feels like teeth.

Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad

[bestsimiles]

The hope inside my chest crumbled like a dry cracker.

Christina Lauren, Beautiful Secret

[bestsimiles]

His precious angels stared at him in horror, as if they'd just spotted a giant leech hanging off the tip of his nose.

The Bride by Julie Garwood

[bestsimiles]

Reggie knew he was going to fail, could feel himself slipping inexorably toward disaster like a man on a steeply pitched roof.

The Rake by Mary Jo Putney

[bestsimiles]

The song seemed as small and gorgeous as a sixteenth-century Persian miniature.

Carl Wilson describing Elliott Smith performing “Miss Misery” at the Oscars. Let’s Talk About Love: a Journey to the End of Taste

[bestsimiles]

When you hate a song, the reaction tends to come in spasms. Hearing it can be like having a cockroach crawl up your sleeve: you can't flick it away fast enough.

Carl Wilson, Let’s Talk About Love: a Journey to the End of Taste

[bestsimiles]

I travelled from Pike Lake to Saskatoon in a night so dark it felt as if I was submerged in a vat of black oil.

from Amuse Bouche by Anthony Bidulka

[bestsimiles]

Despite apparent difficulties, poetry seemed to reach the children, to move their imagination, as directly as bright colors or a spring breeze.

Kenneth Koch, Rose, Where Did You Get That Red?: Teaching Great Poetry to Children

[riverlust-blog]

“It was late in April, with the river running fine and as clear as a young parson’s conscience.”

Tom Sutcliffe, M.D., from Reflections on Fly Fishing: Further Thoughts of a South African Flyfisherman (Mark and Ronald Basel, 1990)