They are as white swans in the dusk, thy white hands
They are painted sharp as death
They broke into pieces and fell on the ground, like a silvery, shimmering shower of hail
They dropped like panthers
They fly like spray
They had hands like claws
They had slipped away like visions
They have as many principles as a fish has bones
They have faces like flowers
They hurried down like plovers that have heard the call [plovers = wading birds]