Quotes About Colors

If you run on lies long enough, they become your truth. Such delicate fabric we conceal our motives in. Colors to obscure the truth of our hearts. No one is a bad person in his or her own mind. We are all noble protagonists.

Like colors or a spring tree against that kind ofblue sky that pulls your heart out through your eyes. Pretty things will swarm you like that, like your heart was a hive of electric bees.

In the daytime, there was often a lovely patch of blue, and sometimes toward evening, before twilight, the clouds turned bright orange or pink.

I could see similar townhouses on the opposite side of the street. There were six of them in a row, and the front of each had been painted a slightly different colour, to prevent a resident climbing the wrong steps and entering a neighbour's house by mistake.

Aliena was concentrating. Their painted wooden board was shaped like a cross and divided into squares of different colours. The counters appeared to be made of ivory, white and black. The game was obviously a variant of merrels, or nine-men's-morris, and probably a gift brought back from Normandy by Aliena's father.

Style in painting is the same as in writing,-a power over materials, whether words or colors.

Only the series of colors on the canvas with all their power and vibrancy could, in combination with each other, render the chromatic feeling of that landscape.

And there at Venice gaveHis body to that pleasant country's earth,And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,Under whose colors he had fought so long.

The sounding cataractHaunted me like a passion: the tall rock,The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,Their colors and their forms, were then to meAn appetite; a feeling and a love,That had no need of a remoter charm,By thought supplied, nor any interestUnborrowed from the eye.

The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.

I cannot pretend to feel impartial about colors. I rejoice with the brilliant ones and am genuinely sorry for the poor browns.

he could feel hot tears coming to his eyes as the image of that night, outside the house as the November wind blew black leaves up off the ground and the sky turned colors like bruised flesh.

What if all that happens to us is exactly what schools us in how to evolve in love in the course of life? That is the very definition of synchronicity, meaningful coincidence: Just the right events and people come along to allow us to articulate the love we are inside. All of them are emissaries of some nuance of light we need to let the full colors of our love appear in all their incandescence.

after a woman has reached a sort of final maturity, her soul has unfolded like a fireflower and no amount of time can extinguish the flame or attenuate the colors.

There is a latent fairy in all women, but look how carefully we have to secrete her in order to be taken seriously. And fairies come in all shapes, colours, sizes and types, they don't have to be fluffy. They can be demanding and furious if hey like. They do, however, have to wear a tiara. That much is compulsory.

The pattern's laid out on the bedWith dozens of colors of threadBut you've got the needleI guess that's the point in the end

Paint your life with the magnificent colors of a joyful sunset.

A poet is not an inventor. A poet is a player that plays with words on the field of human imagination to excite a reader's mind with the colors of emotion.

Let me be one of the people who writes their life history, not with ink, with the colors of a caring heart.

Life is a piece of art drawn by love on the canvas of hope with the colors of desires, wants, and needs.

También le dio nuevos colores a la nueva nación: verde, el color tradicional de los Braganza, y amarillo, en homenaje a su esposa porque era el color principal de la casa de Habsburgo.

Structures of lines, surfaces, forms, colours. They try to approach the eternal, the inexpressible above men. They are a denial of human egotism. They are the hatred of human immodesty, the hatred of images, of paintings... Wisdom (is) the feeling for the coming reality, the mystical, the definite indefinite, the greatest definite.

Quatorze juillet : partout le bleu, le blanc, le rouge. Divine, par gentillesse pour elles, méprisées, s'habille de toutes les autres couleurs.

There's a moment, Lydia realizes, or no, more than a moment—a span of perhaps fifteen minutes just at twilight—when the desert is the most perfect place that exists. The temperature, the light, the colors, all hang and linger at some unflawed precipice, like the cars of a roller coaster ticking ever so slowly over the apex before the crash.