Quotes About Color

Arguments could fill a marriage like water, running through everything, always, with no taste or color but lots of noise.

If you sacrifice your art because of some woman, or some man, or for some color, or for some wealth, you can't be trusted.

Until justice is blind to color, until education is unaware of race, until opportunity is unconcerned with the color of men's skins, emancipation will be a proclamation but not a fact.

The eyes of a man in the jaundice make yellow observations on everything; and the soul tinctured with any passion diffuses a false color over the appearance of things.

Man needs color to live; it's just as necessary an element as fire and water.

The Egyptians would sacrifice red-headed men on the tomb of Osiris because red was the colour associated with Set, the Egyptian version of Satan.

I've handled colour as a man should behave. You may conclude that I consider ethics and aesthetics as one.

Of all God's gifts to the sighted man, color is holiest, the most divine, the most solemn.

A man's life is colored by the dye of his imagination.

The color of the land fades gradually from dark jungle green to pale green and then a sere reddish-brown as the tail extends from the fat center of the island out to the end, and the soil becomes dryer.

If it's wearing red, yellow, or both, it's a lama," he said. "Bow to it.

And it must be understood that the adjective "white" here means a true, blinding salt-white, and not the dirty beige that passes for white in poorly illuminated textile markets.

Randy does a sorting procedure on the diving books now: he ignores anything that has color photographs, or that appears to have been published within the last twenty years, or that has any quotes on the back cover containing the words stunning, superb, user-friendly, or, worst of all, easy-to-understand.

As the sun went down on the opposite side of the world, the light on the New Jersey horizon focused to a steady, lambent core the color of a flashlight when you shine it through the palm of your hand under the bedsheets. Lawrence

The sun shafted in and made her eyes glow, picking out glints of yellow in irises that were mostly green and brown.

No point in describing the office. No point in even allowing the office to even register on her eyeballs and take up valuable memory space in her brain. Fluorescent lights and partitions with carpet glued to them. I prefer my carpet on the floor, thank you. A color scheme. Ergonomic shit. Chicks with lipstick. Xerox smell. Everything's pretty new, she figures.

At first the protesters gave him mean looks for driving a huge gas-guzzling dually until they saw through the glass that he was a person of color and then they didn't know where to direct their moral indignation.

Her coverall darkens, the colors shimmer through the electropigment like an oil slick, and then it's black.

On canvas with paint In the Artist's school It's red that is hot And blue that is cool. But in science we show As the heat gets higher That a star will glow red Like the coals of a fire. Raise the heat some more And what is in sight? It's no longer red It has turned bright white. Yet the hottest of all, Merlin says unto you, Is neither white nor red When the star has turned blue.

Blue cheese gets its flavor and color from the penicillin fungus

A quality of justice A quantity of light A particle of mercy Makes the color of right

His eyes were alert despite the hour and the green chew

Albers celebrated the way that color and line have no truth of their own; what matters is their perception, which depends on what is adjacent to them.

I wish I had the talent to paint the way I feel about you, for my words always feel inadequate. I imagine using red for your passion and pale blue for your kindness; forest green to reflect the depth of your empathy and bright yellow for your unflagging optimism. And still I wonder: can even an artist's palette capture the full range of what you mean to me?