Quotes About Yellow

Anne was kneeling at the west gable window watching the sunset sky that was like a great flower with petals of crocus and a heart of fiery yellow.

If the yellow patent leather flats fit...

Joseph would reach out to me occasionally, the same way the desert blooms a flower every now and then. You get so used to the subtleties of beige and Brown, and then a sunshine-yellow poppy bursts from the arm of a prickly pear.

Lemon?" Bee asked. "What is that?" Master Bouts shrugged. "Something that grows in a far-off land, I daresay. See, the lemon is the yellow under the meringue. We can't make lemon, but we can make meringue—when there's a customer who can pay for it.

Bright colors don't exist in the ghetto, except for the yellow stars and puddles of red blood that we carefully step around. "More shootings," Papa says quietly. His face is gray.

I wish I could rip the star off (carefully, stitch by stitch, so as not to ruin my lovely coat), because yellow is meant to be a happy color, not the color of hate.

La noche, cobijo la tarde amarilla. Sus ojos tristes, miraron al final del callejón.

With the prospect of raids on London itself, U.S. ambassador Joseph Kennedy decamped. To the great disdain of many in London, he began conducting his ambassadorial affairs from his home in the country. Within the Foreign Office, a joke began to circulate: I always thought my daffodils were yellow until I met Joe Kennedy.

Hello, welcome to Wal-Mart. Amanda lifted up her pink sunglasses to gape at the old guy in the requisite blue vest. - Ohmigod, it's just like the commercial. If a smiling yellow dot bounces toward me, I'm going to freak out.

Gult? viss š?iet skaisti.

Memories Hello, duck, in yellow cloth stuffed from inside out, little pillow.

Then came the Autumne all in yellow clad…

The sky was yellow and the sun was blue...

Camilla: You, sir, should unmask. Stranger: Indeed? Cassilda: Indeed it's time. We all have laid aside disguise but you. Stranger: I wear no mask. Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask! -- The King in Yellow, Act I, Scene 2.

for I knew that the King in Yellow had opened his tattered mantle and there was only God to cry to now.

The ambition of Caesar and of Napoleon pales before that which could not rest until it had seized the minds of men and controlled even their unborn thoughts, said Mr. Wilde. You are speaking of the King in Yellow, I groaned, with a shudder. He is a king whom emperors have served. I am content to serve him, I replied.

There is something about a martini, A tingle remarkably pleasant; A yellow, a mellow martini; I wish I had one at present. There is something about a martini Ere the dining and dancing begin, And to tell you the truth, It is not the vermouth— I think that perhaps it's the gin.

But that miracle would eventually arrive, as it always had, and the landscape would turn from brown to green within hours under the kiss of the rain. And there were other colours that would follow the green; yellows, blues, reds would appear in patches across the veld as if great cakes of dye had been crumbled and scattered by an unseen hand.

Your life story is a novel; and people, though they love novels wound between two yellow paper covers, are oddly suspicious of those which come to them in living vellum.

Out in the country, autumn was busy daubing the woods in orange and yellow. Rooks and gulls argued over newly ploughed fields. Behind veils of little cobwebs, the hedgerows blushed with berries.

Sun, you hammer of yellow,  you hat on fire,  you honeysuckle mama,  pour your blonde on me!  Let me laugh for an entire hour  at your supreme being, your Cadillac stuff,  because I've come a long way  from Brussels sprouts. 

and only as she dreamt of the yellow hair did moonlight sift into her mouth.

She did not know how to react, for when your heart has been poisoned and someone picks a dandelion for you - because it is bright and yellow and you seem like you could use something like that - all you can do is contemplate the funny ways of weeds.

The feeling of pain resembles the anguished, troubled height of convulsions, and suffering-the long and the slow kind-has the intimate yellow which colours the vague bliss of profoundly felt convalescence.