Quotes About Color

Let me tell you, nothing puts you off your bar-food nachos quicker than a lecture on the color and consistency of slug secretions.

I search the language for a word to tell you how red is red.

Sanguine was an expensive cloth dyed blood-red –

Above all, he said, white is a feeling.

We had grown up believing white to be the color of all the important things, like ice cream, aspirin, ribbon, the moon, the stars

The man that I named the Giver passed along to the boy knowledge, history, memories, color, pain, laughter, love, and truth. Every time you place a book in the hands of a child, you do the same thing. It is very risky. But each time a child opens a book, he pushes open the gate that separates him from Elsewhere. It gives him choices. It gives him freedom. Those are magnificent, wonderfully unsafe things. [from her Newberry Award acceptance speech]

now he saw the familiar wide river beside the path differently. He saw all of the light and color and history it contained and carried in its slow - moving water; and he knew that there was an Elsewhere from which it came, and an Elsewhere to which it was going

And at that moment a wind came out of the northwest, and entered the woods and bared the golden branches, and danced over the downs, and led a company of scarlet and golden leaves, that had dreaded this day but danced now it had come; and away with a riot of dancing and glory of colour, high in the light of the sun that had set from the sight of the fields, went wind and leaves together.

It's an impossible situation. We need to stick together in the face of this rampant affirmative action that lauds skin color over experience.

We've both got into the blue beetle. He got into the red door, I got into the white one.

Wisps of arctic blue and green and purple buzzed and whirled within those sharp spikes, sending out a wild coruscation of coloured light. The aurora was mesmerizing and blinding at the same time, and little disco balls hoped that they could grow up to be half as brilliant one day.

He fell into step beside me and we both got into the Blue Beetle — he got in the red door. I got in the white one, and we peered out over the grey hood[...]

White for protection. And because they're the cheapest color at Wal-Mart. Hey, being a wizard doesn't make money grow on trees.

purple is my favorite color that isn't black, and

I always thought I looked good in red and black, but as a rule I preferred that to be my clothes. Not my limbs.

In my head, the sky is blue, the grass is green and cats are orange.

It was a large, tawny hound, smoke-gray in color. One of its dangling ears had been ripped and was almost healed. Tom looked wonderingly at it. Its outward confirmation was similar to the Plott hounds that made up old Bill's pack, but it was not a Plott hound. Its jowls were very heavy, and overhung the lower jaw in leathery folds. On the sad-looking face, tan relieved the hounds smoky-gray color.

You say you don't see color…but that's all you see. You're so hyperaware of it, and of trying to look like you aren't prejudiced, you can't even understand that when you say race doesn't matter all I hear is you dismissing what I've felt, what I've lived, what it's like to be put down because of the color of my skin.

My black-and-white work is more of a celebration, and the color work became more of a critique of society.

When life sucks, eat lots of rainbow popsicles.

If Bacchus ever had a color he could claim for his own, it should surely be the shade of tannin on drunken lips, of John Keat's 'purple-stained mouth', or perhaps even of Homer's dangerously wine-dark sea.

Years later the Romantic poet John Keats would complain that on that fateful day Newton had "destroyed all the poetry of the rainbow by reducing it to prismatic colors." But color—like sound and scent—is just an invention of the human mind responding to waves and particles that are moving in particular patterns through the universe—and poets should not thank nature but themselves for the beauty and the rainbows they see around them.

When our eyes see the whole range of visible light together, they read it as "white." When some of the wavelengths are missing, they see it as "colored.

Collioure from La Tour Vieille.