Quotes About Color

Here's a story of a girl Who grew up lost and lonely Thinking love was fairy tale And trouble was made only for me Even in the darkness every color can be found And every day of rain brings Water flowing To things growing in the ground Grief replaced with pity For a city barely coping Dreams are easy to achieve If hope is all I'm hoping to be Any time you're hurt There's one who has it worse around And every drop of rain will keep you growing Seeds you're sowing in the ground

I will see you again , is one of the names for blue-- A color beyond the human sky of mind-- One third up the ladder of blue is where we sit for grief--

He knows this fact: it was a school bus. That unmistakable color of virulent high-concentrate urine.

Allí, donde el aire cambia el color de las cosas; donde se ventila la vida como si fiera un murmullo; como si fuera un puro murmullo de la vida...

Al recorrerse las nubes, el sol sacaba luz a las piedras, irisaba todo de colores, se bebía el agua de la tierra, jugaba con el aire dándole brillo a las hojas con que jugaba el aire.

Did he happen to select a color too? Blue. Blue? Victoria burst out, prepared to do physical battle for white. Madame nodded, her finger thoughtfully pressed to her lips, her own hand plunked upon her waist. Yes, blue. Ice blue. He said you are glorious in that color-'a titian-haired angel,' he said Victoria abruptly decided ice blue was a lovely color to be married in.

The truth is that it is the refusal to see race—the willful color blindness of the liberal camp—that acquiesces to the racial status quo, and does so by consigning blacks to a twilight zone where they are politically invisible

harshly and beautifully colored, broken and worn until its bones are exposed, its great sky without a smudge or taint from Technocracy, and in hidden corners and pockets under its cliffs the sudden poetry of springs.

Suppose these hours are composed of ourselves, So that they become an impalpable town, full of Impalpable bells, transparencies of sound. Sounding in transparent dwellings of the self, Impalpable habitations that seem to move In the movement of the colors of the mind. Confused illuminations and sonorities, So much ourselves, we cannot tell apart the idea and bearer - being of the idea....

He thought often of the land from which he came, How that whole country was a melon, pink If seen rightly and yet a possible red.

The yellow glistens. It glistens with various yellows, Citrons, oranges and greens Flowering over the skin.

Z wie Zwerch. Eine lustige Farbe, bei der man schon lachen musste, wenn man sie nur sah. Oder hörte. Man könnte traurige Dinge damit anstreichen.

The form and color which guide men experienced in the study of the masters are not always recognized by laymen. Yet they can feel the genuineness of an artist's response to the life they know.

What skilful limner e'er would choose To paint the rainbow's varying hues, Unless to mortal it were given To dip his brush in dyes of heaven?

Titian, Tintoretto, and Paul Veronese absolutely enchanted me, for they took away all sense of subject.... It was the poetry of color which I felt, procreative in its nature, giving birth to a thousand things which the eye cannot see, and distinct from their cause.

A few amber clouds floated in the sky without a breath of air to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually into a pure apple-green, and from that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven.

Color directly influences the soul. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another purposively, to cause vibrations in the soul.

Blue is the typical heavenly colour. The ultimate feeling it creates is one of rest. When it sinks to almost black, it echos grief that is hardly human.

A painter, who finds no satisfaction in mere representation, however artistic, in his longing to express his inner life, cannot but envy the ease with which music, the most non-material of the arts today, achieves this end. He naturally seeks to apply the methods of music to his own art. And from this results that modern desire for rhythm in painting, for mathematical, abstract construction, for repeated notes of colour, for setting colour in motion.

Renk klavye, gözler tokmaklar, ruh ise piyanodur. Sanatç? da piyanoyu çalan eldir. Tu?lara dokunarak ruhta titre?imler yarat?r.

All those people in their black-and-white worlds - they have no idea what they're missing

Without the color, I don't know how to proceed. I'm lost in shades of gray.

And why is an orange the only fruit that has to share its name with its color? A banana isn't called yellow. It's not fair. If I were an orange, I would complain.

The hangers that held his hanging clothes had been aligned in the same direction. All of it had been arranged by color.