Pale Quotes - Page 5

• For a hundred and fifty years, in the pasture of dead horses,
  roots of pine trees pushed through the pale curves of your ribs,
  yellow blossoms flourished above you in autumn, and in winter
  frost heaved your bones in the ground--old toilers, soil makers:
  O Roger, Mackerel, Riley, Ned, Nellie, Chester, Lady Ghost.

  Donald Hall

  Horse, Winter, Autumn

  Donald Hall (1990). “Old and New Poems: Donald Hall”, p.163, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Courage is not a virtue of value among other personal values like love or fidelity. It is the foundation that underlies and gives reality to all other virtues and personal values. Without courage our love pales into mere dependency. Without courage our fidelity becomes conformism.

  Rollo May

  Courage, Reality, Like Love

  Rollo May (1994). “The Courage to Create”, p.13, W. W. Norton & Company

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• The lore of our fathers is a fabric of sentences. In our hands it develops and changes, through more or less arbitrary and deliberate revisions and additions of our own, more or less directly occasioned by the continuing stimulation of our sense organs. It is a pale gray lore, black with fact and white with convention. But I have found no substantial reasons for concluding that there are any quite black threads in it, or any white ones.

  Willard Van Orman Quine

  Father, White, Hands

  Willard Van Orman Quine (1976). “The Ways of Paradox, and Other Essays”, p.132, Harvard University Press

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• The horseman on the pale horse is Pestilence. He follows the wars.

  Ardel Wray

  Horse, War, Pestilence

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• As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

  George R. R. Martin

  Night, Air, Dragons

  George R. R. Martin (2003). “A Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book One”, p.816, Bantam

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• "Simon,” said a voice at his shoulder, and he turned to see Izzy, her face a pale smudge between dark hair and dark cloak, looking at him, her expression half-angry, half-sad. “I guess this is the part where we say good-bye?

  Cassandra Clare

  Goodbye, Dark, Hair

  "City of Heavenly Fire". Book by Cassandra Clare, May 27, 2014.

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• Dumbledore was on his feet again, pale as any of the surrounding Inferi, but taller than any too, the fire dancing in his eyes; his wand was raised like a torch and from its tip emanated the flames, like a vast lasso, encircling them all with warmth.

  J. K. Rowling

  Eye, Fire, Flames

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• Not gray, exactly. Right before the sun rises there's a moment when the whole sky goes this pale nothing color-not really gray but sort of, or sort of white, and I've always really liked it because it reminds me of waiting for something good to happen.

  Lauren Oliver

  Color, Sky, White

  Lauren Oliver (2011). “Delirium”, p.23, Harper Collins

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• If I ever win you," he said, anger bright in his pale eyes, "it will be because you want me more. Not because he's gone. I'm nobody's second best.

  Ann Aguirre

  Eye, Winning, Gone

  Ann Aguirre (2012). “Outpost”, p.167, Macmillan

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• He stared dully at the desolate, cold road and the pale, dead night. Nothing was colder or more dead than his heart. He had loved an angel and now he despised a woman.

  Gaston Leroux

  Heart, Angel, Night

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• She had fallen asleep with her head on his arm, the clockwork angel, still around her throat, resting against his shoulder just to the left of his collarbone. As she moved away, the clockwork angel slipped free and she saw to her surprise that where it had lain against his skin it had left a mark behind, no bigger than a shilling, in the shape of a pale white star.

  Cassandra Clare

  Stars, Angel, White

  Cassandra Clare (2013). “The Infernal Devices: Clockwork Angel; Clockwork Prince; Clockwork Princess”, p.1311, Simon and Schuster

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• And somewhat as in blind night, on a mild sea, a sailor may be made aware of an iceberg, fanged and mortal, bearing invisibly near, by the unwarned charm of its breath, nothingness now revealed itself: that permanent night upon which the stars in their expiring generations are less than the glinting of gnats, and nebulae, more trivial than winter breath; that darkness in which eternity lies bent and pale, a dead snake in a jar, and infinity is the sparkling of a wren blown out to sea; that inconceivable chasm of invulnerable silence in which cataclysms of galaxies rave mute as amber.

  James Agee

  Stars, Lying, Winter

  James Agee (2008). “A Death in the Family”, p.66, Penguin

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• I walk across the dreaming sands under the pale moon: through the dreams of countries and cities, past dreams of places long gone and times beyond recall.

  Neil Gaiman

  Country, Dream, Past

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• They were standing in a very large room. The floorboards stretched in a pale expanse at their feet. There was so much dust on the floor that it had a pearly sheen. ”Even you could not nap on this floor,” Kami told Angela. ”I don’t know, a dust mattress might be very comfortable,” said Angela. ”Also possibly orthopedic.

  Sarah Rees Brennan

  Naps, Dust, Feet

  Sarah Rees Brennan (2012). “Unspoken”, p.229, Simon and Schuster

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• Eventually she came. She appeared suddenly, exactly like she'd done that day- she stepped into the sunshine, she jumped, she laughed and threw her head back, so her long ponytail nearly grazed the waistband of her jeans. After that, I couldn't think about anything else. The mole on the inside of her right elbow, like a dark blot of ink. The way she ripped her nails to shreds when she was nervous. Her eyes, deep as a promise. Her stomach, pale and soft and gorgeous, and the tiny dark cavity of her belly button. I nearly went crazy.

  Lauren Oliver

  Crazy, Eye, Sunshine

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• That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.

  William Shakespeare

  Patience, Mean, Men

  William Shakespeare (2013). “Second Tetralogy In Plain and Simple English: Includes Richard II, Henry IV Parts 1 and 2, and Henry V”, p.24, BookCaps Study Guides

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• A hat is a shameless flatterer, calling attention to an escaping curl, a tawny braid, a sprinkling of freckles over a pert nose, directing the eye to what is most unique about a face. Its curves emphasize a shining pair of eyes, a lofty forehead; its deep brim accentuates the pale tint of a cheek, creates an aura of prettiness, suggests a mystery that awakens curiosity in the onlooker.

  Jeanine Larmoth

  Eye, Unique, Curves

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• I want to be the apostle of self destruction. I want my book to affect man's reason, his emotions, his nerves, his whole animal nature. I should like my book to make people turn pale with horror as they read it, to affect them like a drug, like a terrifying dream, to drive them mad, to make them curse and hate me but still to read me.

  Leonid Andreyev

  Dream, Hate, Book

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• There is an instinct for realism, a powerful drive to reproduce oneself. The fascination of photorealistic paintings lies partly in their apparent replication of life, but these are not merely replications. These paintings are often out of life scale, varying from over life-size to under life-size, from brilliant, heightened color to pale, undertone hues.

  Audrey Flack

  Powerful, Lying, Color

  Audrey Flack (1986). “Art & soul: notes on creating”, Dutton Adult

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• All the pale horses of the apocalypse have stormed through my life, revolution, starvation, devaluation of currency and terror, epidemics, emigration; I have seen the great ideologies of the masses grow and spread out before my eyes. Fascism in Italy, National Socialism in Germany, Bolshevism in Russia, and, above all, that archpestilence, nationalism, which poisoned our flourishing European culture.

  Stefan Zweig

  Horse, Eye, Epidemics

  "The World of Yesterday: Memories of a European". Book by Stefan Zweig, transl. by Marion Sonnenfeld, p. 10, 1942.

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• Fashions pass quickly, and nothing is more pathetic than those puppets of fashion outrageously made up one day, pale the next, pleated or ironed stiff, libertine or ascetic. Playing with fashion is an art. The first rule is don't burn your wings.

  Yves Saint Laurent

  Fashion, Art, Wings

  Yves Saint Laurent (1983). “Catalog of the Exhibition Held at the Costume”, p.18, Metropolitan Museum of Art

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• I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well.

  Bram Stoker

  Lying, Fall, Eye

  Bram Stoker (2007). “Dracula”, p.597, Book Jungle

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• The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself.

  Willa Cather

  Sunset, Winter, Light

  Willa Cather (2013). “The Best of Willa Cather”, p.574, Simon and Schuster

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• I hate my verses, every line, every word. Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky. Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.

  Robinson Jeffers

  Hate, Twilight, Curves

  Robinson Jeffers, Tim Hunt (1988). “The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers: 1928-1938”, p.410, Stanford University Press

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• For me, fishing and journalism touched the same places in my head. In comparison with that of poets, the fly fishers' and the journalists' experiences are probably pale flavors, but they carry nonetheless a hint of ambrosia.

  Howell Raines

  Fishing, Hints, Flavor

  Howell Raines (2006). “The One that Got Away: A Memoir”, p.153, Simon and Schuster

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