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Quotes About Colors

Quotes tagged as "colors" (showing 1-30 of 66)
Cassandra Clare
“White for Shadowhunters is the color of funerals," Luke explained. “ But for mundanes, Jace, it’ s the color of weddings. Brides wear white to symbolize their purity.”
“I thought Jocelyn said her dress wasn’t white,” Simon said.
“Well,” said Jace, “I suppose that ship has sailed.”
Luke choked on his coffee.”
Cassandra Clare, City of Fallen Angels

Melissa de la Cruz
“Black is the color of night. White is the true color of death”
Melissa de la Cruz, Blue Bloods

Shel Silverstein
“My skin is kind of sort of brownish pinkish yellowish white. My eyes are greyish blueish green, but I'm told they look orange in the night. My hair is reddish blondish brown, but its silver when its wet, and all the colors I am inside have not been invented yet.”
Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends: The Poems and Drawings of Shel Silverstein

Coco Chanel
“Women think of all colors except the absence of color. I have said that black has it all. White too. Their beauty is absolute. It is the perfect harmony.”
Coco Chanel, Chanel

S.E. Hinton
“Nothing Stay Forever"
"Nature’s first green is gold,
"Her hardest hue to hold.
"Her early leaf’s a flower;
"But only so an hour.
"Then leaf subsides to leaf.
"So Eden sank to grief,
"So dawn goes down today.
"Nothing gold can stay.

-- Robert Frost”
S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders

Anna Godbersen
“The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color -- oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples...”
Anna Godbersen, The Luxe

“The pianokeys are black and white
but they sound like a million colors in your mind”
Maria Cristina Mena, The Collected Stories of Maria Cristina Mena

Anna Godbersen
“As she always did on any really important day, Penelope Hayes wore red.”
Anna Godbersen, The Luxe

“Black is not sad. Bright colors are what depresses me. They’re so… empty. Black is poetic. How do you imagine a poet? In a bright yellow jacket? Probably not.”
Ann Demeulemeester

Lois Lowry
“Things could change, Gabe," Jonas went on. "Things could be different. I don't know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors. And grandparents," he added, staring through the dimness toward the ceiling of his sleepingroom. "And everybody would have the memories."

"You know the memories," he whispered, turning toward the crib.

Garbriel's breathing was even and deep. Jonas liked having him there, though he felt guilty about the secret. Each night he gave memories to Gabriel: memories of boat rides and picnics in the sun; memories of soft rainfall against windowpanes; memories of dancing barefoot on a damp lawn.

"Gabe?"

The newchild stirred slightly in his sleep. Jonas looked over at him.

"There could be love," Jonas whispered.”
Lois Lowry, The Giver

Dejan Stojanovic
“To hear never-heard sounds,
To see never-seen colors and shapes,
To try to understand the imperceptible
Power pervading the world;
To fly and find pure ethereal substances
That are not of matter
But of that invisible soul pervading reality.
To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul;
To be a lantern in the darkness
Or an umbrella in a stormy day;
To feel much more than know.
To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain;
To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon;
To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves;
To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets
Of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching.
To be a smile on the face of a woman
And shine in her memory
As a moment saved without planning.”
Dejan Stojanovic

Beth Revis
“Maybe one day the smears of paint Harley left throughout Godspeed will fade, and maybe the stars never will, but i'd rather have Harley's colors.”
Beth Revis, A Million Suns

“Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33)”
Tim Willocks, The Religion

Stephen King
“the late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood ...”
Stephen King, Carrie

Malinda Lo
“She had never known that ice could take on so many shades of blue: sharp lines of indigo like the deepest sea, aquamarine shadows, even the glint of blue-green where the sun struck just so.”
Malinda Lo, Huntress

“My teacher asked my favorite color. ... I said ‘Rainbow’.... and I was punished to stand out of my class.”
Saket Assertive

Sergei Lukyanenko
“You're a Dark One," said Anton. "All you see in everything is evil, treachery, trickery."

"All I do is not close my eyes to them," Edgar retorted. "And that's why I don't trust Zabulon. I distrust him almost as much as I do Gesar. I can even trust you more—you're just another unfortunate chess piece who happens by chance to be painted a different color from me. Does a white pawn hate a black one? No. Especially if the two pawns have their heads down together over a quiet beer or two."

"You know," Anton said in a slightly surprised voice, "I just don't understand how you can carry on living if you see the world like that. I'd just go and hang myself."

"So you don't have any counterarguments to offer?"

Anton took a gulp of beer too. The wonderful thing about this natural Czech beer was that even if you drank lots of it, it still didn't make your head or your body feel heavy... Or was that an illusion?

"Not a single one," Anton admitted. "Right now, this very moment, not a single one. But I'm sure you're wrong. It's just difficult to argue about the colors of the rainbow with a blind man. There's something missing in you... I don't know what exactly. But it's something very important, and without it you're more helpless than a blind man.”
Sergei Lukyanenko, Day Watch

Emma Donoghue
“When I tell her what I’m thinking and she tells me what she’s thinking, our each ideas jumping into the other’s head, like coulouring blue crayon on top of yellow that makes green.”
Emma Donoghue, Room

حسن الحلوجي
“والبنفسجي محير في شجونه الحزينة كشدو صالح عبد الحي له"ليه يابنفسج بتبهج وانت زهر حزين"فكأنه عليل وشغال مداوي،يبهج غيره ولا يقدر أن يمنح البهجة لروحه،وليس غريبا أن تجد هذا التناقض في لونه المازج بين الأزرق البارد،والأحمر الدافيء في ثنائية البحر والنار، فبينما تشعر فيه بدفء اللقاء إذا اقترب من درجة الأحمر، فقد تجده... في أوج حرارته قد تحول إلى الجفاء باقترابه من الأزرق..”
حسن الحلوجي, أخضر بحواجب

Lemony Snicket
“[I]t was the color of someone buying you an ice cream cone for no reason at all.”
Lemony Snicket, When Did You See Her Last?

Virgil
“Nimium ne crede colori”
Virgil

William H. Gass
“The word itself has another color. It’s not a word with any resonance, although the e was once pronounced. There is only the bump now between b and l, the relief at the end, the whew. It hasn’t the sly turn which crimson takes halfway through, yellow’s deceptive jelly, or the rolled-down sound in brown. It hasn’t violet’s rapid sexual shudder or like a rough road the irregularity of ultramarine, the low puddle in mauve like a pancake covered in cream, the disapproving purse to pink, the assertive brevity of red, the whine of green.”
William H. Gass

Neil Gaiman
“His beard was all colors, a grove of trees in autumn, deep brown and fire-orange and wine-red, an untrimmed tangle across the lower half of his face. His cheeks were apple-red. He looked like a friend; like someone you had known all your life.”
Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders

Anthony Doerr
“I have been feeling very clearheaded lately and what I want to write about today is the sea. It contains so many colors. Silver at dawn, green at noon, dark blue in the evening. Sometimes it looks almost red. Or it will turn the color of old coins. Right now the shadows of clouds are dragging across it, and patches of sunlight are touching down everywhere. White strings of gulls drag over it like beads.

It is my favorite thing, I think, that I have ever seen. Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and forget my duties. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel.”
Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

Thomas Hardy
“The atmosphere beneath is languorous, and is so tinged with azure that what artists call the middle distance partakes also of that hue, while the horizon beyond is of the deepest ultramarine.”
Thomas Hardy, Tess of the d'Urbervilles

Peggy Webb
“How could he try to get Sandi to reveal her true colors when she was a rainbow?”
Peggy Webb, The Mona Lucy

“I tried to make my life colorful with basic colors Red, Green and Blue....... ohh god... my perfection in blending made it white !!! now again confused…. should go with :( or :)”
Saket Assertive

Henry Rollins
“At some point they show their true colors
After the break up
After the trial
After the contract is signed and broken
Their true colors stink
These days
I find it hard to get along with them
I want to push them until the colors come out
And sometimes I hate them so much, I push and see
I do the same to the ones I like
The ones I don’t care about
I smile at real nice”
Henry Rollins

Michael Montoure
“In the dim light of the closed bar, he thought at first it was silver, but as he reached inside and held it up, he saw that it was a gleaming white, so dazzling he knew he had never properly seen the color white before, only paler, inferior shades.”
Michael Montoure, Counting From Ten

Elaine Seiler
“The slower frequencies are dropping away to be replaced by the faster, higher, more refined frequencies that are part of the Energetic Evolution.”
Elaine Seiler, Your Multi-Dimensional Workbook: Exercises for Energetic Awakening

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