Color Quotes - Page 17

• I didn't remember what month that was, or what year even. I only knew the memory lived in me, a perfectly encapsulated morsel of a good past, a brushstroke of color on the gray, barren canvas that our lives had become.

  Khaled Hosseini

  Memories, Past, Years

  Khaled Hosseini (2011). “The Kite Runner: Rejacketed”, p.107, A&C Black

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• Well, after all, this is the age of the disposable tissue. Blow your nose on a person, wad them, flush them away, reach for another, blow, wad, flush. Everyone using everyone else's coattails. How are you supposed to root for the home team when you don't even have a program or know the names? For that matter, what color jersey's are they reading as they trot out to the feild?

  Ray Bradbury

  Team, Reading, Home

  Ray Bradbury (2012). “Fahrenheit 451: A Novel”, p.15, Simon and Schuster

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• A child who can love the oddities of a fantasy book cannot possibly be xenophobic as an adult. What is a different color, a different culture, a different tongue for a child who has already mastered Elvish, respected Puddleglums, or fallen under the spell of dark-skinned Ged?

  Jane Yolen

  Children, Book, Dark

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• Black is the absence of all color. White is the presence of all colors. I suppose life must be one or the other. On the whole, though, I think I would prefer color to its absence. But then black does add depth and texture to color. Perhaps certain shades of gray are necessary to a complete palette. Even unrelieved black. Ah, a deep philosophical question. Is black necessary to life, even a happy life? Could we ever be happy if we did not at least occasionally experience misery?

  Mary Balogh

  Philosophical, Happy Life, Thinking

  Mary Balogh (2009). “Then Comes Seduction”, p.230, Dell

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• The word itself has another color. It’s not a word with any resonance, although the e was once pronounced. There is only the bump now between b and l, the relief at the end, the whew. It hasn’t the sly turn which crimson takes halfway through, yellow’s deceptive jelly, or the rolled-down sound in brown. It hasn’t violet’s rapid sexual shudder or like a rough road the irregularity of ultramarine, the low puddle in mauve like a pancake covered in cream, the disapproving purse to pink, the assertive brevity of red, the whine of green.

  William H. Gass

  Yellow, Green, Red

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• We had no desire to live in Istanbul, nor in Paris or New York. Let them have their discos and dollars, their skycrapers and supersonics transports. Let them have their radios and their color TV, hey, we have ours, don't we? But we have something they don't have. Heart. We have heart. Look, look how the light of life seeps into my very heart

  Orhan Pamuk

  New York, Heart, Paris

  Orhan Pamuk (2014). “The New Life: A Novel”, p.104, Farrar, Straus and Giroux

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• ...you find yourself studying the fine colors on the river, you feel wonder and awe at the setting of the sun, and you are filled with a hard, aching love for how the world could be and always should be, but now is not.

  Tim O'Brien

  Rivers, Finding Yourself, World

  Tim O'Brien (2009). “The Things They Carried”, p.78, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• All day long he was docile, intelligent, good, Though sometimes changing to a darker mood. He seemed hypocritical, could tell better lies, in the dark he saw dots of colors behind closed eyes, clenched fists, put his tongue out at his elder brother.

  Arthur Rimbaud

  Brother, Lying, Eye

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• It may be that until now there has been no more potent means for beautifying man himself than piety: it can turn man into so much art, surface, play of colors, graciousness that his sight no longer makes one suffer.---

  Friedrich Nietzsche

  Art, Mean, Men

  Friedrich Nietzsche (2009). “Basic Writings of Nietzsche”, p.261, Modern Library

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• I have heard what poets write about women. They rhyme and rhapsodize and lie. I have watched sailors on the shore stare mutely at the slow-rolling swell of the sea. I have watched old soldiers with hearts like leather grow teary-eyed at their king's colors stretched against the wind. Listen to me: these men know nothing of love. You will not find it in the words of poets or the longing eyes of sailors. If you want to know of love, look to a trouper's hands as he makes his music. A trouper knows.

  Patrick Rothfuss

  Kings, Lying, Love You

  Patrick Rothfuss (2011). “The Wise Man's Fear: The Kingkiller Chronicle: Day Two”, p.56, Penguin

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• With the passage of time, as well as the social evolution and genetic exchange, we ended up putting our conscience in the color of our blood and the salt of our tears.

  Jose Saramago

  Blood, Tears, Salt

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• Today he wore a burnt-orange shirt, black pants, and a tie that looked like a street fight at the south end of the color wheel.

  Kathy Reichs

  Fighting, Orange, Ties

  Kathy Reichs (2014). “Monday Mourning: A Novel”, p.121, Simon and Schuster

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• When a bachelor of philosophy from the Antilles refuses to apply for certification as a teacher on the grounds of his color I say that philosophy has never saved anyone. When someone else strives and strains to prove to me that black men are as intelligent as white men I say that intelligence has never saved anyone: and that is true, for, if philosophy and intelligence are invoked to proclaim the equality of men, they have also been employed to justify the extermination of men.

  Frantz Fanon

  Teacher, Philosophy, Intelligent

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• I have no idea how he knows when I need him. We can go weeks without speaking, and then, when my blue moods threaten to turn black, he will show up and tell me my moods are azure indigo cerulean cobalt periwinkle and suddenly the blue will not seem so dark, more like the color of a noon-bright sky. He brings the sun.

  David Levithan

  Dark, Blue, Sky

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• I am in need of music that would flow Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips, Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow. Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low, Of some song sung to rest the tired dead, A song to fall like water on my head, And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow! There is a magic made by melody: A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep To the subaqueous stillness of the sea, And floats forever in a moon-green pool, Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

  Elizabeth Bishop

  Dream, Song, Fall

  Elizabeth Bishop (2008). “Elizabeth Bishop: Poems, Prose, and Letters”

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• You really want to know what being an X-Man feels like? Just be a smart bookish boy of color in a contemporary U.S. ghetto. Mamma mia! Like having bat wings or a pair of tentacles growing out of your chest.

  Junot Diaz

  Smart, Ghetto, Boys

  "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao". Book by Junot Diaz, ew.com. September 6, 2007.

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• The best musicians transpose consciousness into sound; painters do the same for color and shape.

  Haruki Murakami

  Musician, Sound, Shapes

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• Reality has become so intolerable, she said, so bleak, that all I can paint now are the colors of my dreams.

  Azar Nafisi

  Dream, Reality, Paint

  Azar Nafisi (2003). “Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books”, p.11, Random House

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• But with dogs, we do have "bad dog." Bad dog exists. "Bad dog! Bad dog! Stole a biscuit, bad dog!" The dog is saying, "Who are you to judge me? You human beings who’ve had genocide, war against people of different creeds, colors, religions, and I stole a biscuit?! Is that a crime? People of the world!" "Well, if you put it that way, I think you’ve got a point. Have another biscuit, sorry.

  Eddie Izzard

  Funny, Dog, Sorry

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• To a person who expects every desert to be barren sand dunes, the Sonoran must come as a surprise. Not only are there no dunes, there's no sand. At least not the sort of sand you find at the beach. The ground does have a sandy color to it, or gray, but your feet won't sink in. It's hard, as if it's been tamped. And pebbly. And glinting with -- what else -- mica.

  Jerry Spinelli

  Beach, Feet, Doe

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• I remind you that no man who makes disparaging remarks concerning those of another race can consider himself a true disciple of Christ," said President Hinckley. "How can any man holding the Melchizedek Priesthood arrogantly assume that he is eligible for the priesthood whereas another who lives a righteous life but whose skin is of a different color, is ineligible?

  Gordon B. Hinckley

  Men, Race, Skins

  "The Need for Greater Kindness" by Gordon B. Hinckley, www.lds.org. May, 2006.

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• The Matisse seemed to respond to the decreasing light by increasing its own wattage. Every object in the room was drained of color, but the Matisse stood firm in the de-escalating illumination, its beauty turning functionality inside out, making itself a more practical and useful presence than anything else in sight.

  Steve Martin

  Light, Sight, Illumination

  Steve Martin (2010). “An Object of Beauty”, p.75, Hachette UK

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• Every Valentine's Day, the student council sponsered a holiday fundraiser by selling roses that would be delievered in class. The roses came in four colors:white, yellow, red, pink, and the subtleties of thier meaning were parsed and analyzed by the female population to no end. Mimi had always understood it thus:white for love, yellow for friendship, red for passion, and pink for a secret crush.

  Melissa de la Cruz

  Crush, Valentine, Passion

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• All of which raises the question – your task, burden, privilege, call it what you like – a question which men and women, great and not-so of every color, creed and sexual persuasion have asked since they first had the language to do so, and probably before: Does Anything I Do Matter?

  Ron Currie Jr.

  Men, Doe, Tasks

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• My favorite color is rainbow.

  Katherine Applegate

  Rainbow, My Favorite, Favorite Color

  Katherine Applegate (2008). “Roscoe Riley Rules #1: Never Glue Your Friends to Chairs”, HarperCollins

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