Cliches

When teaching writing, one of the things I always try to emphasize is the value of avoiding cliches--words and phrases that have through overuse become almost meaningless and that therefore make one's writing sound tired and predictable.

Yet if you think about it, the reason a cliche becomes a cliche--the reason it is overused in the first place--is that it contains truth. And at one time it was vivid in its freshness, a particularly striking image for its intended reader or listener.

Here are a few examples of what I'm talking about:

"Take time to stop and smell the roses."

"Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

"Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today."

All three are such well-worn phrases that they float in and out of our brains without leaving much of an impression, yet they contain wise words that any of us would do well to heed.

Take that last one, for example. Sometimes if you put something off too long, the opportunity to act recedes entirely. So someone else gets the last piece of pie. Or that skirt on the sale rack gets purchased by another shopper. Or that dear old person dies before you get around to visiting. And sometimes you miss doing the thing you should have done by just a matter of days, and you kick yourself even more (there's another useful cliche).

Here's a poem I really like by Sara Teasdale. (I think one reason I appreciate it so much is that when I read it I also hear the music that is paired with it in a particularly gorgeous choral setting with which I am familiar.) It's about embracing life in its tinest moments, being willing to "spend" time on the beauty that is available for "purchase." Some people might find even this poem a bit cliched. I still like it.

"Barter"

Life has loveliness to sell,

All beautiful and splendid things,

Blue waves whitened on a cliff,

Soaring fire that sways and sings,

And children's faces looking up

Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,

Music like a curve of gold,

Scent of pine trees in the rain,

Eyes that love you, arms that hold,

And for your spirit's still delight,

Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,

Buy it and never count the cost;

For one white singing hour of peace

Count many a year of strife well lost,

And for a breath of ecstasy

Give all you have been, or could be.