Quotes About Color

The poems introduce the girls to other kinds of people of color, other worlds. To adventure, and kindness, and cruelty. Cruelty that we usually think we face alone, but we don't. We discover that by sharing with each other we find strength to go on. The poems are the play's first hint of the global misogyny that we women face.

A sudden presence like a burst of song, like the wind singing in a burning building, a glance that holds the world and all its seas and mountains dangling in the air, body of light filtered through an agate, thighs of light, belly of light, the bays, the solar rock, cloud-colored body, color of a brisk and leaping day, the hour sparkles and has a body, the world is visible through your body, transparent through your transparency,

Black is the most essential of all colors. Above all, if I may say so, it draws its excitement and vitality from deep and secret sources of health...One must admire black. Nothing can debauch it.

One must respect black, nothing prostitutes it. It does not please the eye and it awakens no sensuality. It is the agent of the mind far more than the most beautiful color to the palette or prism

his letters came in light blue envelopes with stamps the color of whole-wheat bread.

When the autumn wind Blows down from Tokiwa Mountain, My body fills, as if blushing, With the color and scent Of pine.

Il vero inquisitore è un uomo lugubre. Filosoficamente è il vero fascista, cioè il fascista privo di colore che serve tutti i fascismi, tutti i totalitarismi, tutti i regimi purché servano a mettere gli uomini in fila come croci in un cimitero. Lo trovi ovunque vi sia un'ideologia, un principio assoluto, una dottrina che proibisca all'individuo d'essere sé stesso.

The color of this sky, what would you call it? Rose? Flame? Iridescent? The color of angel's wings? Or a huge temple? No, it is none of these things. It is much more sublime.

There is something terribly morbid in the modern sympathy with pain. One should sympathise with the colour, the beauty, the joy of life. The less said about life's sores the better.

When we read Othello, we only behold the tempest of the passions and the wreck of a great soul; but when we see Othello, we are affronted by the color of the Moor's skin, and we are brought face to face with the vulgarities of the bolster!

Why do two colors, put one next to the other, sing? Can one really explain this? No.

A name is a marker of identity but there are markers we cannot change, like the color of our bodies.

The first thing I did was dye my hair back to a Barbie platinum. (I'm a natural blonde, if you don't count hair color.)

I backed the Mercedes out of the garage and waited for Gabriel to close the door and get in. "Your eyes are gold, Mercy," said Gabriel as he slid into the front seat. "I didn't know they did that.

The hospital issue was a pale beige color that made my Native-toned skin look greenish.

She dyed her hair orange, and it has these glittering purple strings in it

My brother William is a fisherman, and he tells me that when he is in the middle of a fog-bound sea the water is a color for which there is no name.

What you knew in your childhood is true; the Otherworld of magic and enchantment is real, sometimes terribly real - and certainly more real than the factual reality which our culture has built up, brick by brick, to shut out colour and light and prevent us from flying.

The sun's well up now and the sky as blue as fresh meat.

Oh no. He was emberant. Incarnadine. He was bright with better bright beneath, like copper-gilded gold.

Her lips were red. Not the garish painted red so many women believe makes them desirable. Her lips were always red, morning and night. As if minutes before you saw her, she had been eating sweet berries, or drinking heart's blood.

IT WAS ONE OF those perfect autumn days so common in stories and so rare in the real world. The weather was warm and dry, ideal for ripening a field of wheat or corn. On both sides of the road the trees were changing color. Tall poplars had gone a buttery yellow while the shrubby sumac encroaching on the road was tinged a violent red. Only the old oaks seemed reluctant to give up the summer, and their leaves remained an even mingling of gold and green.

It is a lovely color," I said. "We fiery types should really stick together." "We should," she agreed. "I propose we stick together at fifty percent interest over a two-month term." "Fine," I said, slumping

La madera era color café oscuro, o de tierra recién removida. La curva de la caja era perfecta, como las caderas de una mujer. Era eco sordo y rasgueo cantarín. Mi laúd. Mi alma tangible.