Seek the strongest color effect possible... the content is of no importance.
Light in Nature creates the movement of colors.
A certain blue enters your soul. A certain red has an effect on your blood-pressure.
Purer colors... have in themselves, independently of the objects they serve to express, a significant action on the feelings of those who look at them.
The whole world, as we experience it visually, comes to us through the mystic realm of color.
You select the colors of your thoughts; drab or bright, weak or strong, good or bad. You select the colors of your emotions; discordant or harmonious, harsh or quiet, weak or strong. You select the colors of your acts; cold or warm, fearful or daring, small or big.
The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love colour the most.
A color is as strong as the impression it creates.
Color is joy. One does not think joy. One is carried by it.
Colors answer feeling in man; shapes answer thought; and motion answers will.
Each day has its own individuality of color.
Man needs color to live; it's just as necessary an element as fire and water.
Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the harmonies, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another, to cause vibrations in the soul.
Color is vibration like music; everything is vibration.
Orange is the happiest color.
Color is the fruit of life.
When I haven't any blue I use red.
Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.
All colors are the friends of their neighbors and the lovers of their opposites.
If there's any message to my work, it is ultimately that it's OK to be different, that it's good to be different, that we should question ourselves before we pass judgment on someone who looks different, behaves different, talks different, is a different color.
Color is the language of the poets. It is astonishingly lovely. To speak it is a privilege.
Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment. To such an extent indeed that one day, finding myself at the deathbed of a woman who had been and still was very dear to me, I caught myself in the act of focusing on her temples and automatically analyzing the succession of appropriately graded colors which death was imposing on her motionless face.
Colors must fit together as pieces in a puzzle or cogs in a wheel.
I never met a color I didn't like.
Color is a matter of taste and sensitivity.
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