Quotes About Rococo

It's not so much bad or good as strange and outré, Finn, and words like rococo, I should guess, and baroque if you go with my drift?

Is that Rococo, Pascal?" Chrissie said as she stood by the missus's desk, peering into the nests of pigeonholes and cubbies. "Oh, don't touch there or you'll be shot," Pascal said, because it was where the missus kept her souvenirs, love letters from men before him, locks of hair, dried shamrock, and the words of songs that she rehearsed for her parties. Her family was musical

Orthodoxy builds a rococo logical palace on loose empirical sand.

In the West, we look at art through life. Well, that's one way of living. In the Orient they look at life through art. They even drink their tea without sugar, for the same reason that they don't like a lot of frilly decorations on a painting. I can't stand butter on my bread for the same reason. I'm allergic to goo and rococo.

All my life I've pursued the perfect red. I can never get painters to mix it for me. It's exactly as if I'd said, "I want Rococo with a spot of Gothic in it and a bit of Buddhist temple" – they have no idea what I'm talking about. About the best red is to copy the color of a child's cap in any Renaissance portrait.

Were they Moorish? Were they Gothic? And what was the name for the finely turned little posts on the balconies? Balusters. So many words ran through his mind, with their infinite connotations—decadent, baroque, grandeur, rococo, monumental, enduring, tragic.

I'm a Baroque person. More than Baroque, I'm a Rococo person. I don't draw straight lines.

If I'm researching something strange and rococo, I'll go to the London Library or the British Library and look it up in books.

Tierna, esbelta. graciosa, encantadora, juguetona y coqueta. aquella muchacha de diecinueve años se convierte desde el primer momento en la diosa del rococó, el prototipo de la moda y del gusto dominantes

I spend a lot of time looking at rococo books. And almanacs used to be huge sellers - they were pretty much part of the fabric of life. I thought, this is bizarre, I'd love to buy a book like this, and there isn't one. So I thought, all right then, this could be fun. I'll write an almanac.

I write novels about women, except for one: 'Rococo', about a man, a New Jersey decorator. But even that book had a woman on the cover.

Westlake is allusive, indirect, referential, a bit rococo, Stark strips his sentences down to the necessary information.

My cairns were obvious, pretentious, rococo.

When I looked up 'rococo' in the dictionary a while back it was defined as 'an ornamental style emphasizing the florid and the gorgeous, but lacking substance', and I couldn't help but laugh. It was so perfect. How could anything beautiful have 'substance' anyway? Pure beauty is always without meaning or morality.