Quotes About Color

Summer came. For the books thief, everything was going nicely. For me, the sky was the color of Jews.

The question is, what colour will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

People observe the colours of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colours.

Some of you are most likely thinking that white is not really a colour and all of that tired sort of nonsense. Well, I'm here to tell you that it is. White is without question a colour, and personally, I don't think you want to argue with me.

She was home, among the mayor's books of every color and description, with their silver and gold lettering. She could smell the pages. She could almost taste the words as they stacked up around her.

People observe the colors of a day at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quiet clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment.

White is without question a color, and personally, I don't think you want to argue with me.

First the colors. Then the humans. That's usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.

For me, the sky was the color of Jews.

First the colors. Then the humans. That's usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try. ***HERE IS A SMALL FACT*** You are going to die.

I however, try to enjoy every color I see the whole spectrum. A billion or so flavors, none of them quite the same.

I watched the sky as it turned from silver to grey to the colour of rain. Even the clouds tried to look the other way.

The question is, what color will everything be at the moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

The question is, what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying? Personally, I like a chocolate-colored sky. Dark, dark chocolate. People say it suits me. I do, however, try to enjoy every color I see—the whole spectrum. A billion or so flavors, none of them quite the same, and a sky to slowly suck on.

First the colors. Then the humans. That's usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.

The question is what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

I watched the sky as it turned from silver to gray to the color of rain.

People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors.

I could introduce myself, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. You soul will be in my arms. A color will be perched on my shoulder. I will carry you gently away.

el día era gris, el color de Europa

hair the color of lemons' Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. You told him about me? At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him?

Whence did the wond'rous mystic art arise, / Of painting SPEECH, and speaking to the eyes? / That we by tracing magic lines are taught, / How to embody, and to colour THOUGHT?

Moscow swam in color. Hazy floodlights of Red Square mixed with the neon of casinos in Revolution Square. Light wormed its way from the underground mall in the Manezh. Spotlights crowned new towers of glass and polished stone, each tower capped by a spire. Gilded domes still floated around the Garden Ring, but all night earth-movers tore at the old city and dug widening pools of light to raise a modern, vertical Moscow more like Houston or Dubai.

The smell of flowers was overwhelming. They were all imported, some presumably from vast distances. Arkady saw orchids, chrysanthemums, hydrangeas, roses, and tuberoses, splashes of color against winter's gray.