Quotes About Grey

Finisterre. When she was paid off, Captain Hamond had no difficulty in manning her again, for most of his people re-entered, and he even had the luxury of turning volunteers away. Jack had met him once or twice – a quiet, thoughtful, unhumorous, unimaginative man in his forties, prematurely grey, devoted to hydrography and the physics of sailing, somewhat old for a frigate-captain – and as he had met him in the

He's cute, I said. Uh-huh, the grey man agreed, and so's dynamite.

The soldiers lie in the grey morning. Thickets separate them. They are on manoeuvres. They are at war with their hands, their eyes, their foreheads.

a grey wrinkled vastness, like the residue of a dream

The sky is grey, the air hot. I walk back across the mown lawn loving the smell and the houses so completely it leaves my heart empty.

Being an actor, you have to be versatile, and open to all kinds of roles, be it positive or one with grey shades.

I don't dig the candy floss and rosy kind of film subjects. Give me anything dark and grey!

The sunset of all emotions, myself yellowing, subdued to grey sadness in my external self-awareness

the foot of his chair.

Panhandle Smith was the red-faced cook, merry

and returned. To Duane the outlaw

Motion picture rights brought in a fortune and, with 109 films based on his work, Grey set a record yet to be equaled by any other author.

keep me from ridin' trail. But you're acting

Generalizations about the mentalities and behaviour of millions of Germans in the Nazi era are bound to be of limited application – apart, perhaps, from the generalization that, for the great mass of the population, the figurative colours to look for are less likely to be stark black and white than varying and chequered shades of grey.

Sin and evil weren't black – he'd argued the point with a priest – but were greyly anonymous.

Love was that way. You could not render it in black or white. It always came down to the strange, blended shades of grey.

under Midwestern clouds like great grey brains

Despair dragged at me like an anchor, pulling me down. I closed my eyes and retreated to some dim place within, where there was nothing but an aching grey blankness…

Dorothea is a Grey," he pointed out. "Any member of her family would pause on the gallows to exchange witty banter with the hangman before graciously putting the noose about his neck with his own hands.

Hell was full of clocks, he was sure of it. There was no torment, after all, that could not be exacerbated by a contemplation of time passing. The large case clock at the end of the corridor had a particularly penetrating tick-tock, audiable above and through all the noises of the house. It seemed to Lord John Grey to echo his own heartbeats, each one a step on the road towards death.

So far as Grey's own opinion counted, a love that sacrificed honor was less honest than simple lust, and degraded those who professed to glory in it.

Grey was still in his shirtsleeves; the rain had cut through the cloth to his flesh.

Young and inexperienced Grey might be, but he was not unobservant. Neither was he a poor judge of men.

Grey took three steps back and watched as two little boys rushed out of the crowd, their faces bloated with fright, and ran off up the street.