Quotes About Color

Every book should begin with attractive endpapers. Preferably in a dark colour: dark read or dark blue, depending on the binding. When you open the book it's like going to the theater. First you see the curtain. Then it's pulled aside and the show begins.

The sky was a clear, fresh blue

But painting houses wasn't unsatisfying work. You had your good karma jobs, your decent clients. It felt pretty good when you drove away on that last day, paid in full, having restored a little color to someone's shit-brown life.

Great is language . . . . it is the mightiest of the sciences, It is the fulness and color and form and diversity of the earth . . . . and of men and women . . . . and of all qualities and processes; It is greater than wealth . . . . it is greater than buildings or ships or religions or paintings or music.

The front of the white lectern has a slight blue tinge, since it is lit mainly by the refracted light of the sky rather than the yellowish direct glow of the setting sun.59 "Shadows will vary," Leonardo explained in his notebooks. "The side of an object that receives a reflected light from the azure of the air will be tinged with that hue, and this is particularly observable in white objects. That side that receives the light from the sun will partake of that color.

The central area of the retina, known as the fovea, is best at seeing color and small details; the area surrounding the fovea is best at picking up shadows and shadings of black and white. When we look at an object straight on, it appears sharper. When we look at it peripherally, glimpsing it out of the corner of our eye, it is a bit blurred, as if it were farther away.

I'm a twenty-first-century New Yorker and therefore have little time to contemplate race. It's not that racism doesn't exist. Lots of people in New York, and elsewhere, hate because of color and gender, religion and national origin. It's just that I rarely worry about those things because there's a real world underneath all that nonsense; a world that demands my attention almost every moment of every day.

Don't be a yellow starburst be a pink one.

To us—those who seek the solace of the marsh—it is a stage where God paints—yellow in the morning, green toward noon, brownish in the afternoon, and blood red toward evening. It is the sentinel that stands guard at the ocean's edge, protecting the sea from the runoff that would kill it. It is a selfless and sacrificial place. And when I close my eyes, it is also the smell of home.

The white light streams down to be broken up by those human prisms into all the colors of the rainbow. Take your own color in the pattern and be just that.

The old woman dressing a small child for slaughter In a convent's school uniform. The ceiling pale as the flowers. The red parrot screaming in the parrot house.

The color is hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriating enough, but the pattern is torturing.

I met his eyes because I could not refuse them... they were the color of a storm clashing with a setting sun.

Yes it's pink. That's how you know it's for ladies. That might be the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say.

In moments among my various agonies, I noticed the beauty that surrounded me, the wonder of things both small and large: the color of a desert flower that brushed against me on the trail or the grand sweep of the sky as the sun faded over the mountains.

O Danúbio, pensei, era o Danúbio mas não era azul, era amarelo, a cidade toda era amarela, os telhados, o asfalto, os parques, engraçado isso, uma cidade amarela, eu pensava que Budapeste fosse cinzenta, mas Budapeste era amarela.

Now ruddy Morn purpled the glowing East...

It's all about colour and texture. It's about being outside in the middle of deciduous forest, the tall grasses and rustling leaves. You can take one maple leaf and see almost all the colours of the rainbow in it — although you would need your imagination to see blue.

I know everyone's voice from everyone else's in a way that's almost impossible to describe. There's a weird clarity to it — like each voice is a ribbon, stretched out, glittering, unique in its color, depth, variety. I hear them like hearing is seeing. Trey has a purple voice, low and dark and deep...

Words have magic, and they have power. Words have color, a vivid brilliant red. Words can be drab, an old battleship gray. Words can soothe, and words can ruffle.

...the darkness of the hollow in the centre of a wild rose is one glow of orange fire...

Pink activates endorphins and energizes my creativity. It is a colour of femininity and fierceness.

Pink is a seashell, Pink is a rose, Pink is a puppy's Tongue and nose. Pink are my cheeks And my bunny's ears; Pink is the sky When sunrise nears...

Best I love September's yellow...