She smelt awful, like a wet dog wearing week-old socks!

He was as shapeless as a sack of wool.

You are as hard as stone.

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

The sun in the west was a drop of burning gold that slid near and nearer the sill of the world.

Mr. Neck storms into class, a bull chasing thirty-three red flags.

The sun was a toddler insistently refusing to go to bed: It was past eight thirty and still light.

The words appeared to leap off of the paper as she read the story.

The car, painted lime green, raced by screaming for attention.

The moon winked at me through the clouds above.

The old, dusty phone awakened with a mighty ring