The Devious Logic of Metaphor. Leroy Searle University of Washington. Metaphor as an Instrument of Relation. Type 1: Attribute Matching e.g. My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose Type 2: Analogy & Substitution e.g. The eye of heaven Type 3: Problematic Intensionality
Download Policy: Content on the Website is provided to you AS IS for your information and personal use and may not be sold / licensed / shared on other websites without getting consent from its author.While downloading, if for some reason you are not able to download a presentation, the publisher may have deleted the file from their server.
University of Washington
Love Rose Melody in tune
-fresh -fresh -fresh?
-beautiful -beautiful -beautiful
-[animal] -plant -abstract
-smell -smell -?
-? -thorns -?
-? -aphids -?
-pleasing -pleasing -pleasing
eye: face :: sun : heaven
eye of heaven
sun of face
A narrow Fellow in the Grass
You may have met Him—did you not
His notice sudden is—
The Grass divides as with a Comb—
A spotted shaft is seen—
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on—
He likes a Boggy Acre
A Floor too cool for Corn—
Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot—
I more than once at Noon
Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinked, and was gone—
Several of Nature’s People
I know, and they know me—
I feel for them a transport
But never met this Fellow
Attended, or alone
Without a tighter breathing
And Zero at the Bone—
Also: Allusions, Quotations, &c.
[Perception Cognition] [Syntax Situation]
* Categories of Charles Sanders Peirce
Shall I compare thee to a noxious bed?
Thou art more like a graceful squalid egg:
For none will ever warmly call thee red
Until, my elk, they see us choke a leg.
My heart is crimson, likewise is it blue,
When e\'er I see the hopeless maidens growl;
I stunned the reckless butler - for a gnu
Had crudely whistled as it found a fowl.
Alas! the days of android, blob and pine
Are gone, and now the stainless scarecrows fume;
Icelandic was the reindeer, now so fine
And vermin cannot heat the chuckling broom.
But thou, my falling gorgon, shalt not write
Until we firmly stand at Heaven\'s light.