Quotes About Violet

Out of the mouth of the huge, shadowed poster, between the great violet lips, half-open in ecstasy, the dark shape of a man emerged and hung down like a worm from the mouth of a corpse.

A vague memory stirred of a moonlit bathroom and blood, black in the moonlight, pooling on the floor. Jadrin shuddered and the boy opened his eyes. They were the colour of violets.

You're incredible. I can feel your power and it's more than anything I...Violet, " he swallowed, watching me in awe. "It's like...It's like you're as powerful as an angel."-Lincoln

Wait." The word shot out of me, perilous. And still I could not look at him, for the tears I held back were more dangerous still. I stooped and plucked a violet from the grass, purple blossom and heart-shaped leaves and all. He had once said that my eyes were like violets at midnight, darkest green, darkest poryphry. I offered to him the little rag of a flower and whispered, "A knight needs a token." My voice trembled only a little.

It's a cutting," I repeated. "There is no root." Tony swore. "It's a fucking inn, not an African violet.

They've drunk everything in the house, including a pitcher of African violet plant food I'd just mixed up and was stupid enough to leave on the counter." Tremaine punched Eddie in the shoulder. "I told you it tasted weird." Eddie shrugged. "Tasted okay to me.

A poisoned silence floated through the rooms like a big fishnet that Violet alone slashed through with loud recriminations.

The sky was a mixture of rose, green, and violet, the enchanting colors of malaria country, and it seemed far, far away.

It is that time of evening when the sky shifts from indigo to violet. In sympathy, the sea has darkened to purple—a color that could earn the Homeric epithet "wine-dark." Lights are just beginning to come on around the shoreline, like beads being strung, one by one, on a curved diadem crowning the amethyst brow of the bay.

And her eyes, violet, like the sky before a storm. Ralph and Trish had brown eyes. Max's were hazel. But Ondine. No, Ondine's eyes had to be purple , wide set, and heavily lashed. Beyonce and Yoda's love child.

Sunshine merely settles on the skin, it doesn't penetrate, or so I've found, he murmured cynically.

Even if fall she must, it was to lie on the earth and moulder sweetly into the roots of violets.

emotions of that kind ought to be more restrained, without violet irises and crying violins.

Blue!' she exclaimed. 'Violet blue. What are they made of?' 'Summer skies,' I said, 'and plums and figs, and the grape-blood of emperors.' 'No

Down the violet wind slid syrinx melodies, wild as foxes, mad as love, strange as wakening.

Surely--But I am very off from that. From surely. From indeed. From the decent arrow that was my clean naivete and my faith. This morning, men deliver wounds and death. They will deliver death and wounds tomorrow. And I doubt all. You. Or a violet.

When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street.

Bodies of holy men and women exude Miraculous oil, odour of violet. But under heavy loads of trampled clay Lie bodies of the vampires full of blood; Their shrouds are bloody and their lips are wet.

The mountains to the south stood blackly against a violet sky. The snow on the north slopes so pale. Like spaces left for messages.

There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.

Life and love are life and love, a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets, and to drag in the idea of a point is to ruin everything. Live and let live, love and let love, flower and fade, and follow the natural curve, which flows on, pointless.

A purple African violet so lush and fleshy it looked edible... his fingers as cool and smooth as beach stones.

Perhaps my favorite quote on forgiveness is from Mark Twain: "Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds, on the heel that has crushed it.

Mark Twain: "Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds, on the heel that has crushed it." Indeed