An idiom is useful only if it’s commonly recognized by a lot of people. We know someone exclaiming that “it’s raining cats and dogs out there!” isn’t referring to furry creatures because that phrase is widely known to mean it’s pouring rain. But a direct translation of the same phrase in German or Spanish wouldn’t make sense.Every language has its own set of amusing idioms to decode. Sometimes an English idiom gets a slight twist in a foreign language. For example, the English phrase “like a bull in a china shop,” which describes a very clumsy person, turns into “like an elephant in a china shop” in French: “Comme un éléphant dans un magasin de porcelaine.“ Other times, an English idiom can be traced back to a foreign language. “Not my circus, not my monkeys” — meaning “not my problem” — is a translation of a Polish expression (nie mój cyrk; nie moje małpy) with the same meaning. So, what are some of the most amusing idioms that exist in other languages? Let’s find out.

Meaning: To live luxuriously

This expression paints a vividly gross picture. The expression “Wie die Made im Speck leben“ refers to someone living a life of luxury or abundance. For example, you might apply the phrase to a millionaire celebrity who is vacationing on their yacht. In the direct translation, the key German words are Made, meaning “maggot” or “grub,” and Speck, meaning “bacon fat.” The connection here is simple: Much like a hungry maggot in a piece of fatty bacon, this person has everything they need and more.

Meaning: To talk nonsense

In Latvian, the idiom “pūst pīlītes“ means “to exaggerate, lie, or say something outlandish.” Directly translated, pūst means “to blow” and pīlītes means “little ducks” or “ducklings.” (The Latvian word for an adult duck is pīle.) In Latvia, if your friend claims to have won the lottery, you might respond with, “Stop blowing little ducks!”

Meaning: A sunshower

If it’s raining but sunny at the same time, you can call it a sunshower. Those who speak Afrikaans — which is primarily spoken in South Africa and Namibia — call this occurrence “jakkals trou met wolf se vrou,” meaning “the jackal is marrying the wolf’s wife,” in reference to an unusual union of two things. In Zulu, another South African language, this weather phenomenon is called a “monkey’s wedding” for the same reason.

Meaning: An unexpected bonus

While finding a raisin at the end of a hot dog might not seem like a pleasant surprise, for Icelanders, this idiom is a way to convey excitement. The phrase “rúsínan í pylsuendanum” (where rúsínan means “raisin” and pylsuendanum means “the end of the sausage”) is akin to the English phrase “icing on the cake.” For example, you might say that a complimentary dessert at the end of a good meal was “the raisin at the end of a hot dog.” This quirky expression likely comes from traditional Scandinavian sausages, such as the Finnish rusinamakkara, which are made with raisins mixed in for a touch of sweetness.

Meaning: True character can’t be changed

Similar to the English expression “you can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig,” this Spanish idiom suggests that true character is inherent: “Aunque la mona se vista de seda, mona se queda.” Although the monkey (la mona) dresses in silk (de seda), it’s still a monkey. For instance, you might use this phrase if a run-down restaurant is renovated but customer service is still lacking. Despite outward appearances, the fundamental nature or character of someone or something remains the same.

Meaning: Used when someone sneezes

In English-speaking places, it’s standard etiquette to say “bless you” when someone sneezes, but in Mongolia they take it up a level. The expression “бурхан оршоо бутын чинээ сахал урга” (“Burkhan orshoo butin chinee sakhal urga“) includes the standard “bless you” but also wishes the person a luxurious beard. Historically, facial hair was important in Mongolian culture — think of Genghis Khan, the first ruler of the Mongol Empire. Thus, the idiom is a wish or blessing for strength and prosperity.

Meaning: Something absurd

It’s helpful to have a good sarcastic response ready for nosy questions. Down Under, if someone asks you, “What’s in your pocket?” you might respond, “A wigwam for a goose’s bridle.” It’s a nonsensical reply for questions that don’t need a real answer. The phrase was adopted into Australian slang from British English, where the expression is “a whim-wham for a goose’s bridle,” in which “whim-wham” refers to an ornament or a trinket. The phrase was first recorded in its Aussie form in 1917, replacing “whim-wham” with “wigwam,” which is an Indigenous dwelling but is used here for whimsical effect. 

In Greek mythology, Pan was a fertility deity said to roam freely in the mountains, caves, and forests of Greece. Faunlike in appearance, he was typically represented as mostly human in form but with the horns, legs, and ears of a goat. As the patron of shepherds, Pan concerned himself with flocks and herds of pastoral animals. He was also a free-spirited — and notoriously lusty — god of the wilds, who enjoyed dancing in the moonlight with the nymphs and playing his eponymous panpipe. 

As a god of nature and protector of animals, Pan can be seen as a positive force. But he had a dualistic nature, being neither purely good nor evil. Pan could be wild and unpredictable and possessed a peculiar and disconcerting power: the ability to instill a sudden, overwhelming fear in anyone who raised his hircine (goatlike) hackles. According to the ancient myths, he became particularly irritated when anyone interrupted his afternoon naps. If a passing stranger did disturb his slumber, Pan would let out a chilling yell that sent terror coursing through anyone nearby — a type of fear named “panic” in his honor. 

Ancient Greeks believed Pan was responsible for a range of strange events, from sudden stampedes of livestock to the inexplicable fear that would grip travelers as they passed through dark woods. One famous story credits Pan with helping the Athenians defeat the Persians at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE. According to the accounts of the ancient Greek historian Herodotus, Pan appeared to the runner Pheidippides and promised to aid Athens. During the battle, the Persian army supposedly experienced sudden, unreasonable terror — soldiers became panic-stricken — which ultimately led to its defeat. The grateful Athenians later built a shrine to Pan beneath the Acropolis.

The word “panic” passed through the centuries, and today in English it means what it did millennia ago: “a sudden overpowering fright.” But now we tend to attribute panic to the instinct of “fight or flight” and the release of stress hormones such as adrenaline and cortisol, rather than to a libidinous, flute-playing goat-god who lives in the hills. 

The ability to communicate via written language is one of the main behaviors that distinguish humans from other animals. In prehistoric times, three main writing systems developed independently — in the Near East, China, and Mesoamerica. Each of these systems evolved from pictography to a syllabary (symbols representing syllables) to an alphabet. The Latin alphabet we use today developed out of the Near East writing system. Along with the alphabet came specific forms of writing styles, each adapted to solve specific problems — whether increasing writing speed, improving legibility, or simply making the written word more beautiful. 

Here we take a look back through the history of cursive handwriting and how different methods have emerged over time, from the elegant loops of medieval scribes to the standardized methods taught in modern classrooms. 

Long before the printing press was invented, ancient Romans relied on handwriting for all written communication, records, and daily scribblings. Apart from the square capitals (capitalis quadrata) used for inscriptions on public monuments, the writing can be divided into two varieties: old and new Roman cursive. The word “cursive” comes from the Latin “currere,” meaning “to run,” signifying the letters ran together. Old Roman cursive, used from approximately the first century BCE to the third century CE, was a majuscule script — one that used capital-like letters, all of a similar height. In the late third century, old Roman cursive was largely replaced by new Roman cursive, which incorporated minuscule  letters similar to the lowercase letters used today in the Latin alphabet. New Roman cursive became the dominant form of writing in ancient Rome, leading indirectly to Carolingian minuscule — and eventually to the script commonly used today.   

Carolingian minuscule emerged during the eighth century, when several monasteries in the Carolingian realms of Northern France and Germany began developing scripts in an attempt to bring some clarity, order, and consistency to the swathe of barely legible cursives that had developed from the late-Roman period. The Carolingian ruler Charlemagne, keen on bringing about an intellectual revival, tasked the Anglo-Latin cleric Alcuin with standardizing texts across the empire as part of the broader educational reforms of the Carolingian Renaissance. Based primarily at the scriptorium (a collection of manuscripts) in Tours, France, Alcuin carried out his task with aplomb. The newly standardized script, with its clear, rounded letterforms, uniform heights, and consistent letter spacing, was ideal for copying manuscripts, and soon became the principal script in the empire’s scriptoria. By the end of the ninth century, Carolingian minuscule had emerged as the standard form of handwriting throughout most of Europe. It would influence virtually all subsequent Western scripts. 

Gothic scripts emerged in the 12th century to meet the growing demand for legible religious texts. At the same time, the rise of universities saw an increased demand for costly parchment — the dense, angular nature of Gothic cursive conserved space on the page, while also creating a visually striking aesthetic that came to define medieval manuscripts. (Due to its dense, heavy, dark style, Gothic script is also known as blackletter.) Multiple variations existed across Europe, including the rigorous and formal littera textualis, and a rounder style known as rotunda, used in southern Europe. While beautiful and space-efficient, Gothic cursive’s density made it challenging to read, especially for those unfamiliar with the style. Despite this, it remained the dominant script for formal documents, religious texts, and legal records throughout the late Middle Ages. 

Italic script emerged during the Italian Renaissance of the 15th and 16th centuries, primarily as a response to the cramped and illegible lettering of medieval Gothic cursive. Humanist scholars sought to revive what they believed were ancient Roman writing styles, but they actually based their new italic script primarily on Carolingian minuscule, which they mistakenly thought was Roman rather than medieval. Italic featured slanted, elegant letters with a flowing rhythm, combining speed with beauty. And unlike Gothic’s angular compression, italic spread letters horizontally with generous spacing, making texts easier to read. Italic’s tilt also made it cost-efficient, as copyists were able to fit more words on fewer pages, further promoting its spread across Europe. 

Copperplate script, also called English roundhand, dominated formal writing from the 17th through 19th centuries. It first emerged in England, largely due to a need for an efficient commercial cursive style. During this time, metal engraving became more common and accessible, and scribes began working alongside engravers to recreate their work on copper plates for printing — hence the name. The script itself is graceful and highly refined, using elegant letterforms with dramatic contrasts between thick downstrokes and thin upstrokes. Copperplate demanded excellent pen control, and writing masters created elaborate manuals displaying examples of the script. Copperplate soon became the standard for formal documents, invitations, certificates, and business correspondence in Britain, and from there spread throughout much of Europe and North America. 

Spencerian script was developed by Platt Rogers Spencer in the United States during the 1840s. Spencer set out to create a form of cursive handwriting that could be written very quickly and legibly to aid in matters of business correspondence, and was also suitably elegant for personal letter writing. At first, Spencerian script can appear very similar to copperplate, but it does have a number of distinguishing features, including a lack of emphasis on shaded downstrokes on small letters, the use of only one broad downstroke on capitals, minuscules being considerably smaller than capitals, and the joins between letters tending to space them further apart. Its elegance rivaled copperplate but proved faster and more practical for everyday use. It caught on quickly, becoming the standardized form of cursive handwriting taught in American schools in the 1850s. 

Austin Palmer revolutionized cursive in the late 1800s by developing a system specifically designed for business efficiency and ease of teaching. The Palmer Method streamlined the flourishes of Spencerian script, creating a simpler and faster system of writing. In 1894, he published The Palmer Method of Business Writing, designed primarily for use in business colleges. The book was adopted by public school systems across the United States and became the standard cursive instruction for decades. Its focus on efficiency over artistry reflected the Industrial Age’s values of productivity and standardization — and while the method lacked the visual beauty of copperplate or Spencerian, it successfully democratized cursive by making it accessible to millions of students. The Palmer Method was used through the 1950s — and in some places, into the 1980s — but eventually began to fall out of favor when educational standards changed.  

The Zaner-Bloser Method was adopted to teach handwriting in the latter half of the 20th century. It retains elements of the Palmer method, but it teaches block printing before teaching cursive script writing. In the early 21st century, some school districts dropped teaching cursive handwriting from the curriculum, but it’s now being added back. As of 2024, 24 states have a requirement to teach some kind of cursive handwriting in schools. 

Every January, we’re flooded with well-meaning advice: “be true to yourself,” “start fresh,” “work smarter, not harder.” Some of it is genuinely helpful, and some of it just sounds wise because we’ve heard it so many times. For writers and careful speakers, the challenge isn’t avoiding familiar language altogether — it’s knowing when a figure of speech will be helpful in conveying your message. 

A well-chosen aphorism can sharpen an idea, and a colorful idiom can make it memorable. A cliché, on the other hand, can drain it of life. As the new year invites reflection and resolution, it’s a good moment to choose our words with a little more intention. How can you tell the difference between an aphorism, an idiom, and a cliché?

An aphorism is a concise statement of a principle or a universal truth. Examples abound: “actions speak louder than words,” “practice makes perfect,” “better late than never,” “easier said than done,” “every cloud has a silver lining,” “look before you leap,” “money can’t buy happiness,” and “two wrongs don’t make a right.”

Some aphorisms are direct quotes from or references to philosophy, poetry, and literature. For example: “the unexamined life is not worth living” (Socrates), “a thing of beauty is a joy forever” (John Keats), “the truth is rarely pure and never simple” (Oscar Wilde), and many from Shakespeare.

Aphorisms are effective because they are short, punchy, and direct. They often use parallel structure for effect and to create a rhythm (“easy come, easy go”), and are typically constructed in the active voice (“speak softly and carry a big stick”).

An idiom, as Merriam-Webster defines it, is “an expression in the usage of a language that is peculiar to itself either in having a meaning that cannot be derived from the conjoined meanings of its elements (such as up in the air for ‘undecided’) or in its grammatically atypical use of words (such as give way).” Simply put, it’s a commonly understood expression that doesn’t match up to the definitions of its individual words. 

Sources of idioms are varied and include card games, hunting, anatomy, the theater, and sports. For example,American English has been enriched with many idioms just from baseball: “in the ballpark,” “batting a thousand,” “it’s a brand-new ballgame,” “bush league,” “can’t get to first base,” “play hardball,” “heavy hitter,” “off base,” “out in left field,” “right off the bat,” “step up to the plate,” “swing for the fences,” “knock one out of the park,” “go down swinging,” “strike out,” “be thrown a curve ball,” “go to bat for someone,” and “touch base.”

A cliché is a trite, hackneyed phrase or expression. To name just a few: “tip of the iceberg,” “easy as pie,” “think outside the box,” and “fit as a fiddle.” You might recognize these as idioms — and they are — but clichés are worn out from overuse. Avoid falling back on a cliché — they reveal a lack of creativity and a reliance on dull word usage. It’s a fine line to tell when an idiom edges into cliché territory (as we could argue with a few of those baseball idioms), so if you think you’re falling back on the same stock phrases, maybe it’s time to search for a new option.