Quotes About Pale

One of the two of us , thought Mosca, is in a lot of trouble right now. I wonder which of us it is? She isn't turning pale or plucking at her handkerchief. Oh draggles, I think it's me.

I don't mind being pale. In high school, it seemed like everybody cared about being tan all year round, but I haven't really thought about it since then. I don't go to a tanning bed, and I get bored when I lay out. I put sunscreen on when I'm in the sun, and sometimes I get tan, but I don't really think about it very much.

Death wasn't a movie where the pretty star faded away with a touch of pale makeup and every hair in place.

You saved my life, Holmes,' said the baronet. 'We all make mistakes,' said Holmes. 'Are you strong enough to stand?' 'Give me another mouthful of that brandy, and I shall be able to stand anything.' He drank the bottle and collapsed. He tried to stagger to his feet and passed out, but he was still ghastly pale and trembling in every limb. We helped him to a rock. He wouldn't eat it.

The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself.

His body had almost no hair and his naked little circumcised johnson was nearly as pale as the rest of him, white as a boy's - perhaps over time one's genitals emerge from the pots and bubbling vats of love permanently stained, like the hands of a wool dyer.

of wooden stakes into the

Reptiles are abhorrent because of their cold body, pale color, cartilaginous skeleton, filthy skin, fierce aspect, calculating eye, offensive smell, harsh voice, squalid habitation, and terrible venom; wherefore their Creator has not exerted his powers to make many of them.

You built your walls too, she tells him. So I have my wall. She says it glittering in a beauty he cannot stand. She with her beautiful clothes with her pale face that laughs at everyone who smiles at her...

It's funny that all these goths paint their faces with such white make-up and that is the actual colour of my skin, I am that pale!

She was young and very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death.

You think to baffle me, you with your pale faces all in a row, like sheep in a butcher's. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you! You think you have left me without a place to rest, but I have more. My revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. Your girls that you all love are mine already. And through them you and others shall yet be mine, my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my jackals when I want to feed. Bah!

You think to baffle me, you with your pale faces all in a row, like sheep in a butcher's. You shall be sorry yet, each one of you!

Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?

Clouds pass and disperse. / Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? / Is it for such I agitate my heart? — Sylvia Plath, from "Elm," The Collected Poems (HarperPerennial, 1992)

134 Parliament Hill Fields On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its business. Your absence is inconspicuous; Nobody can tell what I lack.

The wilderness is cracked and browned But through the water pale and thin Still shine the unoffending feet And there above the painter set   15 The Father and the Paraclete. .

Jane," he said. "Jane, a pane of crystal, the sound of rain falling on the silken grain of marble, a slender, pale chain of a name.

He continued to stand, as if in thought or vanity, before the arresting reflection of himself. But he had grown, unaccountably pale.

They will hunt you down. And when they find you, you will find yourself trapped in conversation with a pale young lady all dressed in white who cannot converse on topics other than the weather, who received vouchers to Almack's, and hair ribbons." - Anthony Bridgerton

Blue eyes and red hair is the rarest combo on Earth, which makes me a statistical freak of nature. My pale skin also makes the spray of freckles across my cheeks and nose look more prominent, which I hate.

Pronto llegó noviembre con su pálido aliento de lunas y hojas muertas.

It was a dimly glowing mass of pale-blue light, mottled, immense, and terrifying. Even at the first glimpse I knew it was not a sun. No sun can be so blue and so dim. It hurt the eyes to look at it, not because of its brightness. It hurt inside the eyes, up far into the optic track; the pain was in the brain itself.

Jack was lying in bed, very pale, which highlighted the freckles across his nose. He was so surrounded by books I could hardly see him. I was very impressed, because at that point this very young child was reading The World Crisis, by Winston Churchill.