Quotes About Blue

72. It is easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem. Can blue solve the problem, or can it at least keep me company within it?—No, not exactly. It cannot love me that way; it has no arms. But sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink—Here you are again, it says, and so am I.

According to Dionysius, the Divine Darkness appears dark only because it is so dazzlingly bright-- a paradox I have attempted to understand by looking directly at the sun and noticing the dark spot that flowers at its center. But as compelling as this paradox, or this experiment, may be, I am not as interested in it as I am the fact that in Christian iconography, this "dazzling darkness" appears with startling regularity as blue.

Goethe describes blue as lively color, but one devoid of gladness. "It may be said to disturb rather than enliven.". Is to be in love with blue, then, to be in love with a disturbance? And what kind of madness is it anyway, to be in love with something constitutionallu incapable of loving you back?

The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love's primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it. To have seen such beautiful things. To find oneself placed in their midst. Choiceless.

It it easier, of course, to find dignity in one's solitude. Loneliness is solitude with a problem. Can blue solve the problem, or can it at least keep my company within it? - No, not exactly. It cannot love me that way; it has no arms. But sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink - Here you are again, and so am I.

The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love's primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it. To have seen such beautiful things. To find oneself places in their midst.

The half-circle of blinding turquoise ocean is this love's primal scene. That this blue exists makes my life a remarkable one, just to have seen it. To have seen such beautiful things. To find oneself placed in their midst.

En ocasiones me preocupa que si no me siento conmovida por alguna cosa azul es porque estoy completamente desolada, o muerta. Algunas veces finjo mi entusiasmo. Otras, me temo que soy incapaz de comunicar lo profundo que es.

Then again, perhaps [depression] does feel like a fire -- the blue core of it, not the theatrical orange crackling. I have spent a lot of time staring at the core in my own "dark chamber," and I can testify that is provides an excellent example of how blue gives way to darkness -- and then how, without warning, the darkness grows up into a cone of light.

Generally speaking I do not hunt blue things down, nor do I pay for them. The blue things I treasure are gifts, or surprises in the landscape.

Well then, it is as you please. This is the dysfunction talking. This is the disease talking. This is how much I miss you talking. This is the deepest blue, talking, talking, always talking to you.

The screen filled with a pure and simple blue in which a few black pixels floated.

The sky was a blanket of grey, tarmac-coloured clouds with no hint of the blue beyond them.

nor my favorite blue, the cobalt colour of silence.

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Also, you may find the color blue giving you a migraine for the next couple of days. Blue. Yeah. We don't know why it happens, we just know it does. When it does, just look at something not blue for a while. You know the sky is blue, right? Yes. Stay indoors. Don't look up.

Once a woman told me that colored flowers would seem more bright if you added a few white flowers to give the colors definition. Every petal of blue lupin is edged with white, so that a field of lupins is more blue than you can imagine.

The scrape and snap of Keds on loose alley pebbles seems to catapult their voices high into the moist March air blue above the wires.

The day is declining through the white afternoon to the long blue spring evening. He drives past a corner where someone is practicing on a trumpet

Ces fleurs sont d'un rose vraiment céleste, dit Legrandin, je veux dire couleur de ciel rose. Car il y a un rose ciel comme il y a un bleu ciel.

Yes. You see, the whole nature, shape and even the modern blue pigment of the TARDIS is so deeply unfamiliar to the primitive mind that, although the optic nerve registers its presence, the brain cannot decode what it is seeing. The primitive visual cortex is unable to relay information about it consciously to the viewer. In effect, even though her chameleon circuit is still damaged, she's as good as invisible. She'll be just fine.

But love is a wildly unpredictable hurricane wind, not a swirling blue ocean with peaceful shores.

Jam on a winter took away the blue devils. It was like tasting summer.

My only sketch profile of heaven is a large blue sky and larger than the biggest I have seen in June-and in it are my friends-every one of them.