In Part 1, Mildred lays on the bed listening to what we would now call earbuds. Bradbury describes her (and her obsession with mass media) with metaphorical language and imagery:
His wife stretched on the bed, uncovered and cold, like a body displayed on the lid of a tomb, her eyes fixed to the ceiling by invisible threads of steel, immovable. And in her ears the little Seashells, the thimble radios tamped tight, and an electronic ocean of sound, of music and talk and music and talk coming in, coming in on the shore of her unsleeping mind. The room was indeed empty. Every night the waves came in and bore her off on their great tides of sound, floating her, wide-eyed, toward morning. There had been no night in the last two years that Mildred had not swum that sea, had not gladly gone down in it for the third time.
A simile asserts that Mildred is "like a body displayed on the lid of a tomb." This is deathly imagery, appropriate for Mildred's still body, but she's not even the corpse—she's simply a representation of a body, a carving of one. Her unmoving eyes are metaphorically "fixed to the ceiling by invisible threads of steel," which is another inorganic image that suggests her senses are not attuned to the real world.
Metaphor and imagery also describe the work of the earbuds: "An electronic ocean of sound, of music and talk […] [comes] in on the shore of her unsleeping mind." This extended marine metaphor, appropriate for a device called Seashells, makes the noise of Mildred's earpieces into an ocean. The endlessly noisy ocean crashes into Mildred's mind, which is as solid and simply receptive as a seashore. There is no give and take between her mind and what she hears, only uncritical listening. The ocean metaphor further illustrates this point: the large, impersonal movement of the sonic ocean bears her away.
One recurring motif in Fahrenheit 451 compares books to birds through similes and metaphors, personification, and imagery. For instance, early in Part 1, Guy conceptualizes of the books he's burning as pigeons:
He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace, while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and lawn of the house.
The personification here means that the books are not simply destroyed. Instead, they "died," which is a more emotionally loaded word choice. The "pigeon-winged" metaphor makes the books sound like gentle animals, inherently innocent and undeserving of their death. These devices provoke sympathy for the books and anger over their burning.
A similar moment occurs later in Part 1, when Guy and the other firefighters burn the unnamed woman's house:
A book lit, almost obediently, like a white pigeon, in his hands, wings fluttering. In the dim, wavering light, a page hung open and it was like a snowy feather, the words delicately painted thereon. […] The men above were hurling shovelfuls of magazines into the dusty air. They fell like slaughtered birds and the woman stood below, like a small girl, among the bodies.
A simile compares a book to a "white pigeon," which personifies the book into a gentle and obedient animal. The magazines are like "slaughtered birds" and are personified into having "bodies." Again, the similes, personification, and imagery here make the reader feel pain for the books' plight.
The books-as-birds motif recurs in Part 3, as Guy burns down his own house:
The books leapt and danced like roasted birds, their wings ablaze with red and yellow feathers.
A simile compares the books to birds once more, but this time it seems the birds are being roasted alive, given that they are dancing as they die. The books metaphorically have wings, and the fire becomes their feathers. This lively language provides the reader with visual imagery of the books' destruction.
Throughout the novel, Beatty voices many arguments against books. Bradbury uses him as a mouthpiece for censorship so that readers can better understand how a dystopia like this might form, and what supposed benefits its strict censorship is meant to have. In Part 1, for instance, Beatty uses metaphors and similes to argue that books are a malign influence.
Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally ‘bright,’ did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn’t it this bright boy you selected for beatings and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against. So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man’s mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? Me? I won’t stomach them for a minute.
Beatty is a persuasive talker, and for someone who hates books, he's quite well-read and even employs many literary devices in his speech. In a simile, he compares the other boys in the classroom to "so many leaden idols," unmoving, unthinking, and jealous of the smartest boy in the class. A well-read man is metaphorically a "mountain" that others must cower under. And finally, Beatty uses a cinching metaphor that shows the ideology that has led to the firemen: "A book is a loaded gun." A book is a weapon, a tool, something the enemy cannot have, and something which must be controlled or disposed of.
Beatty uses this metaphor and the others to persuade Guy, but it also has the purpose of exposing to the reader how Beatty conceptualizes books. While characters like Faber and Granger characterize books as living, fruitful things that bring people together and improve humanity, Beatty only sees what books can do to give one individual a leg up on all the others. He thinks of literature in purely utilitarian and competitive terms, a mindset well articulated by the gun metaphor.
In Part 1, the firemen's destruction of the woman's house is described with metaphorical language and characterized by situational irony.
Next thing they were up in musty blackness swinging silver hatchets at doors that were, after all, unlocked, tumbling through like boys all rollick and shout. “Hey!” A fountain of books sprang down upon Montag as he climbed shuddering up the sheer stairwell. How inconvenient! Always before it had been like snuffing a candle.
This passage is a great example of Bradbury's writing style, which is full of literary devices and especially metaphorical language. For instance, a simile compares the firemen to boys playing, tumbling, and shouting, which indicates to the reader that the firemen find this fun. Just as was true for Guy at the beginning of the book, the firemen take pleasure in the destruction and burning. A metaphor describes the mass of books as a fountain, as if the flood of knowledge is overwhelming or attacking Guy. This difficulty causes Guy to reflect that "always before it had been like snuffing out a candle," another simile that further complicates the fire symbolism in the novel. It would be easy to assert that fire is, or symbolizes, a bad thing in Fahrenheit 451, but this is not true for all literal or metaphorical mentions of flames. Pay special attention to the metaphorical mention of candles, as well as fire's cleansing or rebirthing potential.
The situational irony comes from the unnecessary violence the firemen use out of habit, or because they enjoy it. They hack down doors "that were, after all, unlocked."
When Guy first meets Clarisse in Part 1, her kindness and interest in conversation confuse him. In a stream of consciousness moment, he describes her face with metaphorical language and imagery, and finally has a flashback that reminds him of Clarisse.
He saw himself in her eyes, suspended in two shining drops of bright water, himself dark and tiny, in fine detail, the lines about his mouth, everything there, as if her eyes were two miraculous bits of violet amber that might capture and hold him intact. Her face, turned to him now, was fragile milk crystal with a soft and constant light in it. It was not the hysterical light of electricity but—what? But the strangely comfortable and rare and gently flattering light of the candle. One time, as a child, in a power failure, his mother had found and lit a last candle and there had been a brief hour of rediscovery, of such illumination that space lost its vast dimensions and drew comfortably around them, and they, mother and son, alone, transformed, hoping that the power might not come on again too soon. . . .
Guy looks at Clarisse, trying to understand what is special about her. Bradbury often uses a stream of consciousness style to help the reader imagine Guy's train of thought, and this moment is no different. Guy describes Clarisse's face and demeanor increasingly impressionistically and abstractly, then finally slips into a flashback that ends with an ellipsis.
First, her face is described with imagery. Her eyes metaphorically are "two shining drops of bright water" that reflect an image of Guy back to himself, then they are "violet amber." Amber captures bugs and suspends them, just as Guy feels somehow captured and understood by Clarisse. Her face is first metaphorically "fragile milk crystal," then has the "light of a candle." It is this candlelight metaphor that sends Guy into his flashback about his mother. Unlike other literal and metaphorical fire in the novel, candles do not indicate destruction. Here, Guy's fond memory of candlelight, and his preference for it over "hysterical" electric light, could be read as connected to a larger distrust of mass media and other new technologies in the novel.
In Part 1, after Guy has spoken to Clarisse, his increasing disillusionment is described with metaphors and similes:
He felt his smile slide away, melt, fold over and down on itself like a tallow skin, like the stuff of a fantastic candle burning too long and now collapsing and now blown out. Darkness. He was not happy. He was not happy. He said the words to himself. He recognized this as the true state of affairs. He wore his happiness like a mask and the girl had run off across the lawn with the mask and there was no way of going to knock on her door and ask for it back.
Both metaphor and simile are used to describe Guy's smile, which itself seems to stand in for Guy's happiness. First, his smile is a burnt-out candle with its wax spilling everywhere. Candles are a complex part of the fire symbolism; unlike most literal and metaphorical fire in Fahrenheit 451, candles are generally positive, comforting metaphors or similes, attached to happy memories or good people. In this light, Guy's metaphorical candle going out suggests some inner peace has been disrupted. A simile compares Guy's missing smile to a stolen mask: there's no way to get it back, and readers know it's Clarisse's fault.
In Part 2, Guy's guilty conscience over stealing and keeping books is described through the personification of his hands:
In Beatty’s sight, Montag felt the guilt of his hands. His fingers were like ferrets that had done some evil and now never rested, always stirred and picked and hid in pockets, moving from under Beatty’s alcohol-flame stare. If Beatty so much as breathed on them, Montag felt that his hands might wither, turn over on their sides, and never be shocked to life again; they would be buried the rest of his life in his coat sleeves, forgotten.
This moment is another great example of how Bradbury weaves together literary devices and imagery to create sharp impressions and emotions that the reader feels alongside Guy. This passage personifies Guy's hands into autonomous actors, animal-like and guilty. His hands seem to hide from Beatty in pockets. A simile compares Guy's fingers to ferrets, which are squirmy rodents that hide from predators. Beatty has a metaphorical "alcohol-flame stare," fittingly enough. Beatty's breath might metaphorically kill Guy's hands. In other words, Beatty's attention (his stare, his breath) could reduce Guy to inaction, metaphorized into the death of Guy's hands.
The personification of Guy's hands also serves to separate him from his own actions. His hands cannot act without him; he made the choice to pick up and hide the books. But in this moment of high anxiety, perhaps Guy regrets his choices, blames his hands for the guilt he feels, and seeks to distance himself from his own fingers.
In Part 3, after Guy has undergone an immense amount of trauma, Bradbury describes Guy's mental breakdown with fragmented flashbacks and similes in a stream of consciousness style.
His flesh gripped him and shrank as if it had been plunged in acid. He gagged. He saw Beatty, a torch, not moving, fluttering out on the grass. He bit at his knuckles. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh God, sorry. . . . He tried to piece it all together, to go back to the normal pattern of life a few short days ago before the sieve and the sand, Denham’s Dentifrice, moth voices, fireflies, the alarms and excursions, too much for a few short days, too much, indeed, for a lifetime.
The passage starts with a simile which describes Guy's physiological reaction to all the stress he's under: "his flesh [...] shrank as if it had been plunged in acid." After this, the writing moves back and forth from brief flashbacks (such as his memory of Beatty's death) and Guy's present reaction to the stress he's undergoing, such as biting his knuckles. Bradbury renders this moment in fragmented prose, a stream of consciousness combination of unexplained and contextless phrases and images. Guy tries verbal and physical coping mechanisms, but he cannot order his thoughts, as reflected by the writing style. These devices, used in conjunction, plunge readers deep into Guy's inner turmoil.
In Part 3, when Guy sets fire to Beatty in order to escape, the climactic death scene is described with similes and evocative imagery:
And then [Beatty] was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling gibbering manikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame on the lawn as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him. There was a hiss like a great mouthful of spittle banging a red-hot stove, a bubbling and frothing as if salt had been poured over a monstrous black snail to cause a terrible liquefaction and a boiling over of yellow foam. Montag shut his eyes, shouted, shouted, and fought to get his hands at his ears to clamp and to cut away the sound. Beatty flopped over and over and over, and at last twisted in on himself like a charred wax doll and lay silent.
This scene is full of descriptive, violent imagery that allows readers to imagine Beatty's horrible death. The pain of being burnt alive reduces Beatty to a metaphorical "gibbering manikin." To describe the sound, Bradbury uses a simile: Beatty's flesh makes a "hiss like a great mouthful of spittle banging a red-hot stove." The simile for the sight is equally gross: Beatty looks like a snail that's had salt poured over it. Finally, Beatty is "like a charred wax doll," a simile that drives home for the reader what death by burning alive has done to this once-strong villain.
The more details Bradbury adds here, the more horrified, fascinated, and invested the reader can be in the spectacle of Beatty's death. These devices heighten the drama of the scene and even provoke sympathy for Beatty.
One recurring motif in Fahrenheit 451 compares books to birds through similes and metaphors, personification, and imagery. For instance, early in Part 1, Guy conceptualizes of the books he's burning as pigeons:
He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace, while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and lawn of the house.
The personification here means that the books are not simply destroyed. Instead, they "died," which is a more emotionally loaded word choice. The "pigeon-winged" metaphor makes the books sound like gentle animals, inherently innocent and undeserving of their death. These devices provoke sympathy for the books and anger over their burning.
A similar moment occurs later in Part 1, when Guy and the other firefighters burn the unnamed woman's house:
A book lit, almost obediently, like a white pigeon, in his hands, wings fluttering. In the dim, wavering light, a page hung open and it was like a snowy feather, the words delicately painted thereon. […] The men above were hurling shovelfuls of magazines into the dusty air. They fell like slaughtered birds and the woman stood below, like a small girl, among the bodies.
A simile compares a book to a "white pigeon," which personifies the book into a gentle and obedient animal. The magazines are like "slaughtered birds" and are personified into having "bodies." Again, the similes, personification, and imagery here make the reader feel pain for the books' plight.
The books-as-birds motif recurs in Part 3, as Guy burns down his own house:
The books leapt and danced like roasted birds, their wings ablaze with red and yellow feathers.
A simile compares the books to birds once more, but this time it seems the birds are being roasted alive, given that they are dancing as they die. The books metaphorically have wings, and the fire becomes their feathers. This lively language provides the reader with visual imagery of the books' destruction.
In Part 3, Guy finds out another Mechanical Hound is now tracking him; Bradbury uses imagery, metaphor, and simile to describe Guy's subsequent panic:
Montag felt his nostrils dilate and he knew that he was trying to track himself and his nose was suddenly good enough to sense the path he had made in the air of the room and the sweat of his hand hung from the doorknob, invisible but as numerous as the jewels of a small chandelier, he was everywhere, in and on and about everything, he was a luminous cloud, a ghost that made breathing once more impossible.
It seems unlikely Guy can literally smell himself. However, his realization of the danger he is in, and his plan to escape it by hiding his scent, is made much sharper by this metaphorical moment where he imagines he can smell what the Mechanical Hound will. A simile compares his sweat to the "jewels of a small chandelier," an image that helps the reader visualize the microscopic evidence Guy hopes to cover up. Guy is metaphorically "everywhere, in and on and about everything," which descriptively shows the difficulty of erasing scent humans themselves cannot smell. Additional metaphors compare Guy to a "luminous cloud" and a "ghost." These devices show his justified paranoia about his scent, and they also illustrate for the reader how Guy thinks about his predicament and logics out a way to solve it.
Finally, note the rambling, long sentence. It's technically a run-on sentence, but Bradbury's purpose in flaunting grammatical convention is to mirror, with the rhythm of the hurried sentence, the panic Guy feels.