31438.“When they burst through, a small chain of colorful mountains appeared below them. The range spanned from the deepest, darkest blue to the shiniest, brightest white and everything in between. The foot of each mountain was a single color– midnight blue, mossy green, burnt umber – and this color, whatever it was, was the darkest shade it could be. As the color moved up the mountains, the shade grew lighter and lighter until it reached the peak. The peaks were glorious pastels, shimmering with only the faintest pigment.” ― Paige Britt, The Lost Track of Time February 15, 2021
31437. “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. How I loved those flower moments, like when he pointed out the moon and Jupiter, but they were rare, and never to be expected.” ― Aimee Bender, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake February 15, 2021
31436. “Quinnipeague in August was a lush green place where inchworms dangled from trees whose leaves were so full that the eaten parts were barely missed. Mornings meant ‘thick o’ fog’ that caught on rooftops and dripped, blurring weathered gray shingles while barely muting the deep pink of rosa rugosa or the hydrangea’s blue. Wood smoke filled the air on rainy days, pine sap on sunny ones, and wafting through it all was the briny smell of the sea.” ― Barbara Delinsky, Sweet Salt Air February 15, 2021
31435. “WHEN PEOPLE SHOW YOU THEIR TRUE COLORS, DON’T GO COLOR BLIND” ― Qwana M. BabyGirl Reynolds-Frasier, Friend In Your Pocket Conversations Session One February 15, 2021
31434. “I am an art work in constant progress; I am my own canvas, my own colors, my own brushes and my own inspiration.” ― Efrat Cybulkiewicz February 15, 2021
31433. “NEVER BE SO BUSY BEING THE LIGHT FOR OTHERS THAT YOU NEGLECT TO SHINE ON YOURSELF ” ― Qwana M. BabyGirl Reynolds-Frasier, Friend In Your Pocket Conversations Session One February 15, 2021
31432. “White and blue White and blue , You loved it then, i loved it too, Your eyes and your voice, I loved it then, i love it too, Your questions and the troubles, You loved it then, i loved it too, Your stories and the excuses, I loved it then, i love it too, Your songs and the promises, You loved it then, i loved it too,” ― Ratish Edwards February 15, 2021
31431. “HOLDING ONTO HOPE MAY MAKE YOU TIRED BUT IF YOU LET GO OF HOPE, THE FALL CAN SPIRITUALLY KILL YOU! HOLD ON” ― Qwana M. BabyGirl Reynolds-Frasier, Friend In Your Pocket Conversations Session One February 15, 2021
31430. “A LIE IS LIKE A BAD NEIGHBORHOOD; IT’S NOT SAFE TO LIVE IN” ― Qwana M. BabyGirl Reynolds-Frasier, Friend In Your Pocket Conversations Session One February 15, 2021
31429. “What treasures lay inside! Yes, here were the colors that she had asked for: red, pink, yellow, blue, green, black- all in powder form, of course, not like the one or two bottles of liquid food color that were available at the Lebanese supermarket in town; those were not at all modern- some big blocks of marzipan, and, as always, June had included some new things for Angel to try. This time there were three tubes that looked rather like thick pens. She picked one upend examined it: written along its length were the words ‘Gateau Graffito,’ and underneath, written in uppercase letters, was the word ‘red.’ Reaching for the other two pens- one marked ‘green’ and the other ‘black’- she saw a small printed sheet lying at the bottom of the bubblewrap nest. It explained that these pens were filled with food color, and offered a picture showing how they could be used to write fine lines or thick lines, depending on how you held them. It also guaranteed that the contents were kosher. Eh, now her cakes were going to be more beautiful than ever!” ― Gaile Parkin, Baking Cakes in Kigali February 15, 2021
31428. “Jess gazed at the apples arranged in all their colors: russet, blushing pink, freckled gold. She cast her eyes over heaps of pumpkins, bins of tomatoes cut from the vine, pale gooseberries with crumpled leaves. “You could buy a farm.” “Why would I do that?” “To be healthy,” said Jess. Emily shook her head. “I don’t think I’d be a very good farmer.” “You could have other people farm your farm for you,” said Jess. “And you could just eat all the good things.” Emily laughed. “That’s what we’re doing here at the Farmers’ Market. We’re paying farmers to farm for us. You’ve just invented agriculture.” “Yes, but you could have your own farm and go out there and breathe the fresh air and touch the fresh earth.” “I think that’s called a vacation,” said Emily. “Oh, you’re too boring to be rich,” Jess said. “And I would be so talented!” ― Allegra Goodman, The Cookbook Collector February 15, 2021
31427. “THE WISER I GET…. THE LESS I SPEAK, THE MORE I THINK AND THE MORE THOUGHTFUL MY WORDS BECOME” ~QWANA M. “BABYGIRL” REYNOLDS-FRASIER” ― Qwana M. BabyGirl Reynolds-Frasier, Friend In Your Pocket Conversations Session One February 15, 2021
31426. “The roses bloomed, thousands of them in a floral amphitheater, blossoms shading from gold and coral at the top of the garden to scarlet and deep pink on tiers below. At the bottom, in the center of the rosy congregation, the palest apricots and ivories perfumed the air.” ― Allegra Goodman, The Cookbook Collector February 15, 2021
31425. “Sunrises and sunsets were breathtaking moments in his life. Moments of exhilaration and ecstasy. Deeply moving moments when he would dream. Dreams that splashed myriad colors on his mind’s gray canvas!” ― Avijeet Das February 15, 2021
31424. “I had seen the world as either white or black. It is only when I read the pages of her diary that I understood why the sky looked so grey.” ― Sanhita Baruah February 15, 2021
31423. “Never had there been a time when sound, color, and feeling hadn’t been intertwined, when a dirty, rolling bass line hadn’t induced violets that suffused him with thick contentment, when the shades of certain chords sliding up to one another hadn’t produced dusty pastels that made him feel like he was cupping a tiny, golden bird. It wasn’t just music but also rumbling trains and rainstorms, occasional voices, a collective din. Colors and textures appeared in front of him, bouncing in time to the rhythm, or he’d get a flash of color in his mind, an automatic sensation of a tone, innate as breathing.” ― Lisa Ko, The Leavers February 15, 2021
31422. “Autumn colors remind us we are all one dancing in the wind.” ― Lorin Morgan-Richards February 15, 2021
31421. “You are not white, but a rainbow of colors. You are not black, but golden. You are not just a nationality, but a citizen of the world. You are not just for the right or left, but for what is right over the wrong. You are not just rich or poor, but always wealthy in the mind and heart. You are not perfect, but flawed. You are flawed, but you are just. You may just be conscious human, but you are also a magnificent reflection of God.” ― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem February 15, 2021
31420. “Let’s not wait until the light fades into irreparable loss, but let’s stay in the loop and pursue the momentous flow of daily little wonders, since life kindly tenders us gorgeous bouquets of sparkling colors, telling signs and rousing episodes. (“Côté cour…Côté jardin”)” ― Erik Pevernagie February 15, 2021
31419. “If we dare to dream, we must dare to wake up. When we come to rub our eyes wide open and face up to realness, we can clear our vision and curb a whirlwind of bewilderment that might break our mind apart, once fantasy wrangles with reality and our awareness denies the true colors of facts. (“Behind the frosted glass”)” ― Erik Pevernagie February 15, 2021
31418. “In the beginning was the word and the word was love and love was imagination. When love takes us through the sun-dappled garden of our imagination, no stalking horses can perturb the rainbow in our mind or fade out its bright colors reflecting in the blue sky of our memory. (“Alpha and Omega”)” ― Erik Pevernagie February 15, 2021
31417. “Thomas Moran Paints This place gets inside you with its soft reds And tans. You can feel the lithe sweep of brushes Inside your head. Your empty hands moving From side to side involuntarily. It is like seeing An angel’s brilliancy for the first time and trying To describe it to your own soul in a language Of the eye your heart can understand The light is always different here getting darker Near the river paler near the rim. But it is The way the canyon breathes warm air rising Cool air settling that makes the colors vibrant Gives them luster. I can pile and scrape paint On a canvas forever and miss the one rare Note that hides in the throat of a canyon wren But I can dream that bird within me and capture It on silk where its song will bring this magical Secret landscape into my art on its wings.” ― Daniel William(s) February 15, 2021
31415. “Never close your mind to a color. Remember, too, that texture is an important element. The same dress in the same shade of red may look wonderful on you in soft velvet but too harsh in a hard-finished taffeta. Think in terms of color combined with texture, not of one or the other independently.” ― Anne Fogarty, Wife Dressing: The Fine Art of Being a Well-Dressed Wife February 15, 2021
31414. “All dahlias are beautiful in their own way! I love them because they have the most perfect symmetry and come in a rainbow of color options.” ― Chantal Larocque, Bold Beautiful Paper Flowers: More Than 50 Easy Paper Blooms and Gorgeous Arrangements You Can Make at Home February 15, 2021
31413. “I love to create vibrant, whimsical floral compositions that are either executed with one single hue or the opposite: a blend of multiple colors!” ― Chantal Larocque, Bold Beautiful Paper Flowers: More Than 50 Easy Paper Blooms and Gorgeous Arrangements You Can Make at Home February 15, 2021
31412. “Since the human brain processes light categorically into redness, greeness, blueness, and yellowness, this means that we are only able to see other colors as limited combinations among these four (we can’t see red-greens or blue-yellows)” ― Beau Lott February 15, 2021
31411. “I paint my dreams on a canvas of life with a smile of hope, An attempt to make my destiny a bit colorful!” ― Mysticald/Faiqa February 15, 2021
31410. “They’re sitting on the floor in A Stitch in Time, surrounded on all sides by dresses of every imaginable color. Cora realizes as she glances around, her gaze flitting quickly from one wall to the next, that Etta has arranged them like the seasons: sparkling whites, grays, blacks for winter; shimmering greens and blues for spring; pinks and purples for summer; reds, oranges and yellows for autumn. Together they are breathtaking, almost too bright if stared at for too long, like falling through a rainbow lit by the sun.” ― Menna van Praag, The Dress Shop of Dreams February 15, 2021
31409. “There were ceramic teapots in aubergine, mustard, and midnight blue (good for one, sweeter still when shared between two drinkers); and forty small, thin glasses with curved handles, set in gold- and silver-plated holders etched with arabesque swirls. Bahar gingerly lined the tea glasses up on the counter where the cappuccino machine had been stationed. She tucked the teapots into the counter’s glass-paneled belly, where they sat prettily next to twenty glass containers of loose-leaf teas, ranging from bergamot and hibiscus to oolong.” ― Marsha Mehran, Pomegranate Soup February 15, 2021
31408. “Not settles herself in the farthest reaches of the gallery, admiring the work of an artist she hasn’t seen before. The canvases are large and dark, great splashes of royal blue on black, what appear to be deep purple seas beneath deep red skies. They remind her of Turner’s tranquil sunsets, with a slightly sinister edge, as if sharks swim in the purple seas and black crows caw through the red skies.” ― Menna van Praag, The Witches of Cambridge February 15, 2021
31407. “I walk out into the hall and remember when Ma chose the paint. Mountain Sage out here, Irish Oatmeal in their bedroom, the master bathroom in Ice Blue Gloss. She gave me the samples from the paint store and I cut them out in little identical squares, playing the game of remembering which was which, knowing every color by its name. The carpets on the second floor are soft under my bare feet. The next room down is Amanda’s, a pale buttery yellow called Chardonnay on the walls, boxes of shoes still under the bed.” ― Jael McHenry, The Kitchen Daughter February 15, 2021
31406. “Noa sleeps with the curtains open, allowing as much moonlight as possible to flood her bedroom, allowing her to see each and every picture on the walls, if only as a pale glimmer. It took Noa weeks to perfect the art display. Reproductions of Monet’s gardens at Giverny blanket one wall: thousands of violets- smudges of purples and mauves- and azaleas, poppies, and peonies, tulips and roses, water lilies in pastel pinks floating on serene lakes reflecting weeping willows and shimmers of sunshine. Turner’s sunsets adorn another: bright eyes of gold at the center of skies and seas of searing magenta or soft blue. The third wall is splashed with Jackson Pollocks: a hundred different colors streaked and splattered above Noa’s bed. The fourth wall is decorated by Rothko: blocks of blue and red and yellow blending and bleeding together. The ceiling is papered with the abstract shapes of Kandinsky: triangles, circles, and lines tumbling over one another in energetic acrobatics.” ― Menna van Praag, The Witches of Cambridge February 15, 2021
31405. “When it was mixed together, the salsa was a celebration of red and white and green, cool and fresh and alive. On a tortilla, with a bit of crumbled white ‘queso fresco,’ it was both satisfying and invigorating, full of textures and adventures, like childhood held in your hand.” ― Erica Bauermeister, The School of Essential Ingredients February 15, 2021
31404. “Since moving to the Castle, she’d discovered that only the white men talked of “black magic.” As though magic had a color.” ― Yaa Gyasi, Homegoing February 15, 2021
31403. “The fruit alone inspired him. In the heat of summer there were mirabelles from Alsace: small and golden cherries, speckled with red. And Reine Claude from Moissac, sweet thin-skinned plums the color of lettuce touched with gold. In August, green hazelnuts and then green walnuts, delicate, milky and fresh. And of course, for just a moment in early fall, pêches de vigne, a rare subtle peach so remarkable that a shipment was often priced at a year’s wages. And right before winter, Chasselas de Moissac grapes: small, pearlescent, and so graceful that they grow in Baroque clusters, as if part of a Caravaggio still life.” ― N.M. Kelby, White Truffles in Winter February 15, 2021
31402. “I placed the tubes of paint on the palette and selected a small canvas. I prepared the palette with an assortment of colors, then closed my eyes, remembering the way the moors had looked when I rode into town with Lord Livingston. He’d been so different on that drive into the village before he left for London. Had that been the side of him that Lady Anna had fallen in love with? I dipped my brush into the black paint and then mixed in some white until I’d created the right shade of gray, then touched the brush to the canvas. I loved the feeling of the paintbrush in my hand. He’d been kind to buy me the art supplies, but I remembered how he’d behaved in the dining room and at other times before that. ‘How could he be so cruel, so unfeeling?’ Once I’d painted the clouds, I moved on to the hills, mixing a sage green color for the grass and then dotting the foreground with a bit of lavender to simulate the heather. I stepped back from the canvas and frowned. It needed something else. But what? I looked out the window to the orchard. The Middlebury Pink. ‘Who took the page from Lady Anna’s book? Lord Livingston?’ I dabbed my brush into the brown paint and created the structure of the tree. Next I dotted the branches with its heart-shaped leaves and large, white, saucer-size blossoms with pink tips.” ― Sarah Jio, The Last Camellia February 15, 2021
31401. “Nijinsky in ‘Le Spectre de la rose’ was like nothing I’d seen before. He danced a fifteen-minute solo and it passed like a dream. He was wearing a silk tricot, palest nude, onto which were pinned dozens of silk Bakst petals, pink and red and purple. The most exotic creature, so beautiful, like a shiny, graceful insect on the verge of flight. He leapt as if it cost him no effort, lingering in the air far longer than was possible, and seemed not to touch the stage between times. I believed that night that a man might fly, that anything was possible.” ― Kate Morton, The Lake House February 15, 2021
31400. “Artists are the flowers of our world. The best ones are those that can stand out from the crowd and create their own concrete garden — to move us, inspire us, and makes us think hard. A flower with no smell to it is just something to look at. However, a flower that emits a beautiful fragrance is the one we want in our homes and on our walls. Your mission as an artist, is to become the best-smelling flower in the world, so that when the day finally comes when you are plucked from the ground, the world will cry for the loss of your mind-stimulating fragrance. Be different. Be original. Nobody will remember a specific flower in garden loaded with thousands of the same flower, but they will remember the one that managed to change its color to purple. Truth Is Crying, 2008” ― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem February 15, 2021
31399. “George thrust into Alma’s hand a lithograph of a spotted ‘Catasetum.’ The orchid had been rendered so magnificently that it seemed to grow off the page. Its lips were spotted red against yellow, and appeared moist, like living flesh. Its leaves were lush and thick, and its bulbous roots looked as though one could shake actual soil off them. Before Alma could thoroughly take in the beauty, George handed her another stunning print- a ‘Peristeria barkeri,’ with its tumbling golden blossoms so fresh they nearly trembled. Whoever had tinted this lithograph had been a master of texture as well as color; the petals resembled unshorn velvet, and touches of albumen on their tips gave each blossom a hint of dew. Then George handed her another print, and Alma could not help but gasp. Whatever this orchid was, Alma had never seen it before. Its tiny pink lobes looked like something a fairy would don for a fancy dress ball.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert, The Signature of All Things February 15, 2021
31398. “I am a writer. I live a thousand different lives in a thousand different places, in a galaxy of black and white words. Lend me your imagination, reader, and let me show you new places, new people, and fantastic worlds, in all the myriad colors of your mind.” ― Christine Stobbe February 15, 2021
31397. “He loved the colors of her, pink and mauve and ivory, all washed in light. The glistening tumble of her hair held the colors of autumn: chestnut, maple, russet, umber.” ― Lisa Kleypas, Hello Stranger February 15, 2021
31396. “Not until I felt your sunshine, Did I realize that I had been in the shade. Not until I saw all your colors, Did I realize that mine had faded. Not until I heard your dreams, Did I realize that I was still sleeping. And not until I experienced my life with you, Did I realize that I was barely Breathing. NOT UNTIL I MET YOU by Suzy Kassem Copyright 1993” ― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem February 15, 2021
31395. “The peach gown she’d chosen was the color of the sunrise, the rippling watered silk seeming to subtly change from rose to pink to nearly orange in different lights. She’d fallen in love with it at once.” ― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Desire February 15, 2021
31394. “Look’, she said. It’s going to be a beautiful sunset. Shall we stay out and watch it?’ ‘All right,’ I said, and we stayed there on the lawn for quite awhile, arms around each other’s waists, first watching the bright colors come up in the sky, then watching them fade to ashes of gray.” ― Stephen King, The Green Mile February 15, 2021
31393. “My stomach gave a violent start and turned into a hunk of ice. The world was spinning around me, and blobs of faces and visions of things past were dancing in the red mist that covered the lot. It swirled into a mass of colors and I felt myself swaying on my feet. Someone cried, “Glory, look at the kid!” And the ground rushed up to meet me very suddenly.” ― S.E. Hinton, 追逐金色的少年 [Zhui zhu jin se de shao nian] / The Outsiders February 15, 2021
31392. “The canopy of the woods was spread out beneath me and it looked as if autumn had taken a great torch to the trees, burnishing them gold, red, and bronze.” ― Kate Morton, The Distant Hours February 15, 2021
31391. “London was beginning to illuminate herself against the night. Electric lights sizzled and jagged in the main thoroughfares, gas-lamps in the side streets glimmered a canary gold or green. The sky was a crimson battlefield of spring, but London was not afraid. Her smoke mitigated the splendour, and the clouds down Oxford Street were a delicately painted ceiling, which adorned while it did not distract. She has never known the clear-cut armies of the purer air. Leonard hurried through her tinted wonders, very much part of the picture. His was a grey life, and to brighten it he had ruled off a few corners for romance.” ― E.M. Forster, Howards End February 15, 2021
31390. “Loan me a canvas and I will let down my guard. Loan me a paintbrush and I will reach into my soul. Loan me jars full of colors and I will submerge in a sea of possibilities. Loan me the time and you will see infinite versions of my being re-born.” ― Efrat Cybulkiewicz February 15, 2021
31389. “The sun leaves often and I watch like a lover who’s not yet vulnerable enough to ask it to stay a little longer.” ― Darnell Lamont Walker February 15, 2021
31388. “It’s like I’ve always had a painted musical sound track playing background to my life. I can almost hear colors and smell images when music is played. Mom loves classical. Big, booming Beethoven symphonies blast from her CD player all day long. Those pieces always seem to be bright blue as I listen, and they smell like fresh paint. Dad is partial to jazz, and every chance he gets, he winks at me, takes out Mom’s Mozart disc, then pops in a CD of Miles Davis or Woody Herman. Jazz to me sounds brown and tan, and it smells like wet dirt.” ― Sharon M. Draper, Out of My Mind February 15, 2021
31387. “Somehow, impossibly, the interior of the space we’re in is coated in ice. It shines as light from above cascades down on it, reflecting and refracting, spinning different colors with every new facet of itself. There are planes and crags of it around the walls, with parts of it worked smooth, while others are ragged and shifting.”, FADE by Kailin Gow” ― Kailin Gow, Fade February 15, 2021
31386. “Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. “Beau’iful, aren’ they?” Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the hippogriffs’ gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to feather, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.” ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban February 15, 2021
31385. “Why do you paint, Akram?” I asked. “What—” “Close your eyes, Sebastian,” he said, stopping me. “Just for a minute, close them and tell me what you see.” I did as he asked and answered, “Nothing, just black.” He tilted my head a bit to the west. “Open them now and find the blessing of vision. This abundance, the explosion, the mixture of colors, the movement, life passing by… See the sun setting? What colors can you find in the sea? Surely there are blue and gray, but don’t you also see that darker gray, light green, even black? Look at the hues of the sun drowning in the sea, melting in oranges, reds, purples. Look at those trees over there. Look at the waves, at me, at your hands, the eyes of your friends. Now, must you still ask me why I paint?” Akram replied. He then left me and walked to the tip of the yacht to enjoy the sunset and the breeze. “Artists,” I mumbled to myself.” ― Ahmad Ardalan, The Art Collector of Le Marais February 15, 2021
31384. “Don’t present yourself to people as a blank sheet; they will paint you with their preferred colors, then your life will be in problem. Choose your own colors and paint it the way you want the world to see you. Make it a little brighter so you stand out.” ― Nesta Jojoe Erskine, Unforgettable: Living a Life That Matters February 15, 2021
31383. “Minden egyes szóval, ami most sikerülten a pergamenre került, növekedett bátorsága, és vele együtt ügyessége is. Valóban remekül lehetett írni a tollakkal, és a titokzatos tinta hollófeketén és engedelmesen csurgott a vakítóan fehér pergamenre. Midőn ilyen szorgosan és feszült figyelemmel dolgozott, egyre otthonosabban érezte magát a magányos szobában, és teljesen beleélte magát a foglalatosságba, amelyet – úgy remélte – majd szerencsésen elvégez, amikor az óra hármat ütött, a levéltáros behívta a szomszéd szobába, a gondosan elkészített ebédhez.” ― E.T.A. Hoffmann, Az arany virágcserép – A homokember – Scuderi kisasszony February 15, 2021
31382. “Mulan stared at the steaming liquid, watching the dried leaves swirl to the bottom. How beautiful the tea looked, too- she’d never seen tea so colorful. Reds and pinks swirled in with amber and blue- like the mesmerizing patterns on a butterfly.” ― Elizabeth Lim, Reflection February 15, 2021
31381. “While we formed mochi cakes, the men pounded another batch of rice. When it was soft, they divided the rice dough until it turned nubby like tweed. They sprinkled the second blob with dried shrimp and banged it until it turned coral. Nori seaweed powder colored the third hunk forest green, while the fourth piece of mochi became yellow and pebbly with cooked corn kernels. For variation, the grandmother rolled several plain mochi in a tan talc of sweetened toasted soybean powder. She also stuffed several dumplings with crimson azuki bean fudge. Then she smeared a thick gob of azuki paste across a mochi puff, pushed in a candied chestnut, and pinched the dumpling shut. “For the American!” cried Mr. Omura, swiping his mother’s creation. I looked up and he handed it to me. It was tender and warm. All eyes turned to watch the American. “Oishii!” I uttered with a full mouth. And it was delicious. The soft stretchy rice dough had a mild savory chew that mingled with the candy-like sweetness of the bean paste and buttery chestnut.” ― Victoria Abbott Riccardi, Untangling My Chopsticks: A Culinary Sojourn in Kyoto tags: chestnut, colors, dough, fillings, flavors, mochi, rice, traditional0 likesLike February 15, 2021
31380. “Several minutes later, Tomiko met me at the top of the stairs in her wedding kimono. She was totally transformed. Out of her blue jeans, loose shirt, and bulky sweater, she radiated femininity. The kimono elongated her torso and created a smooth cylinder from neck to toe, the hallmark of a beautiful Japanese figure. A striking navy obi with red, yellow, white, and turquoise chrysanthemums hugged her waist. A flirtatious cream collar peeked out from under the pale peach robe. The sleeves were just high enough to expose a sensual swatch of skin above her wrist. When she moved her arm, the inner fold revealed an erotic flash of scarlet and white silk.” ― Victoria Abbott Riccardi, Untangling My Chopsticks: A Culinary Sojourn in Kyoto February 15, 2021
31379. “To shine like the Sun, use the power of lively colours!” ― Mehmet Murat ildan February 15, 2021
31378. “Little by little, brushstrokes spell out my story on canvas.” ― Efrat Cybulkiewicz February 15, 2021
31377. “I beheld such a sight which I have never beheld before, and which no living person can have seen save in the delirium of fever or the inferno of opium. The building stood on a narrow point of land- or what was now a narrow point of land-fully three hundred feet above what must lately have been a seething vortex of mad waters. On either side of the house there fell a newly washed-out precipice of red earth, whilst ahead of me the hideous waves were still rolling in frightfully, eating away the land with ghastly monotony and deliberation. Out a mile or more there rose and feel menacing breakers of at least fifty feat in height, and on the far horizon ghoulish black clouds were resting and brooding like unwholesome vultures. The waves were dark and purplish, almost black, and clutched at the yielding red mud of the bank as if with uncouth, greedy hands. I could not but feel that some noxious marine mind had declared a war of extermination upon all the solid ground, perhaps abetted by the angry sky.” ― H.P. Lovecraft, The Crawling Chaos February 15, 2021
31375. “Although most humans don’t know it, scents are like colors to dogs. Faint scents have faint colors, like pastels washed out by time. Clear scents have clear colors. Some dogs have weak noses, and they read scents the way humans with poor eyes see colors, believing this delicate blue may actually be a gray, or that dark brown may actually be a black.” ― Stephen King February 15, 2021
31374. “People flocked like lemmings to the water’s edge all across Michigan’s vast coastline every pretty summer evening to watch the spectacular sunsets. They were marvelous spectacles, a fireworks display most nights- a kaleidoscope of color and light in the sky, white clouds turning cotton candy pink, Superman ice cream blue, and plum purple, the sun a giant fireball that seemed to melt in the water as it began to slink behind the wavy horizon. Sunsets are one of our simplest and most profound gifts, Sam remembered her grandma telling her years ago as they walked the shoreline looking for witches’ stones- the ones with holes in them- or pretty Petoskeys to make matching necklaces. They remind us that we were blessed to have enjoyed a perfect day, and they provide hope that tomorrow will be even better. It’s God’s way of saying good night with His own brand of fireworks.” ― Viola Shipman, The Recipe Box February 15, 2021
31373. “Before we feel You were always dressed In black and grey; I came with my colors And you changed; Is this love?” ― Jazalyn, The Colors of Love February 15, 2021
31372. “Whoooa! Red! Green! Yellow! Brown! Purple! Even black! Look at all those bowls full of brilliantly colored batter!” She used strawberries, blueberries, matcha powder, cocoa powder, black sesame and other natural ingredients to dye those batters. They look like a glittering array of paints on an artist’s palette! “Now that all my yummy edible paints are ready… …it’s picture-drawing time!” “She twisted a sheet of parchment paper into a piping bag and is using it to draw all kinds of cute pictures!” “You’re kidding me! Look at them all! How did she get that fast?!” Not only that, most chefs do rough sketches first, but she’s doing it off the cuff! How much artistic talent and practice does she have?! “All these cutie-pies go into the oven for about three minutes. After that I’ll take them out and pour the brown sugar batter on top…” “It appears she’s making a roll cake if she’s pouring batter into that flat a pan.” “Aah, I see. It must be one of those patterned roll cakes you often see at Japanese bakeries. That seems like an unusually plain choice, considering the fanciful tarts she made earlier.” “The decorations just have to be super-cute, too.” “OOOH! She’s candy sculpting!” “So pretty and shiny!” That technique she’s using- that’s Sucre Tiré (Pulled Sugar)! Of all the candy-sculpting arts, Sucre Tiré gives the candy a glossy, nearly glass-like luster… but keeping the candy at just the right temperature so that it remains malleable while stretching it to a uniform thickness is incredibly difficult! Every step is both delicate and exceptionally difficult, yet she makes each one look easy! She flows from one cutest technique to the next, giving each an adorable flair! Just like she insisted her apple tarts had to be served in a pretty and fantastical manner… … she’s even including cutesy performances in the preparation of this dish!” ― Yuto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 29 [Shokugeki no Souma 29] February 15, 2021
31371. “The future is a blank canvas. – not Yogi, Michael Hyatt or Lewis H. Lapham (the correct author is Suzy Kassem according to the U.S. copyright office).” ― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem February 15, 2021
31370. “I have a lot of, unfinished poems. And all of them are like, some love affair, that started too quick, and died too young. Each incomplete art to me, is like a memory lane, of an insane passion, that words, couldn’t explain, and colors couldn’t contain.” ― Jasleen Kaur Gumber, Ginger and Honey: An unusual free verse poetry collection February 15, 2021
31369. “Autumn calls the forest to rest, to exhale in a flood of colors rubbed to a fiery warmth on the hearth of both hill and plain before nodding off to a winter’s slumber. And what better way to turn the page of a season than to celebrate it in a manner such as this?” ― Craig D. Lounsbrough February 15, 2021
31368. “Clara didn’t know what to say, but she also knew not every silence had to be filled. Sometimes the white spots, those left undyed and natural, were integral to the beauty of a colorway.” ― Shira Glassman, Knit One, Girl Two February 15, 2021
31367. “Dawn broke over Ellingham Academy in a swirl of rose pink going into a bloodless blue. Stevie watched the newly risen sun come up over the Great House like a celestial game of peekaboo.” ― Maureen Johnson, Truly Devious February 15, 2021
31366. “First the colors. Then the humans. That’s usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try. ***HERE IS A SMALL FACT*** You are going to die.” ― Markus Zusak February 15, 2021
31213. “I gave up on you Not because I couldn’t keep fighting But For the way you kept blaming on these colors I have in my pocket, Though it’s you who were a color blind …” ― Samiha Totanji February 13, 2021
31212. “You do not understand what you have done to me. The sky inside me gets a little more colorful, every time I see you. A little more feather gets added to my weak wings, every time you touch me. It is hard for me to let you go now after seeing how beautiful the sky inside me can get and how strong my wings can become when you are around me.” ― Akshay Vasu, The Abandoned Paradise: Unraveling the beauty of untouched thoughts and dreams February 13, 2021
31211. “I keep hoping that I’ll come up with something. To express the love of two lovers by the marriage of two complementary colours, their blending and their contrast, the mysterious vibrations of related tones. To express that thought of a brow by the radiance of a light tone against a dark background. To express hope by some star. Someone’s passion by the radiance of the setting sun.” ― Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh February 13, 2021
31210. “I suppose we all see colors outside our usual spectrum in certain people. And the saddest part of life is having known what it looks like and saying goodbye while a quiet part of you hopelessly searches for it forever in shades of blue, red, and yellow. Perhaps all my writing is just a telling to others of the color I saw.” ― Karl Kristian Flores, Cardiac Ablation February 13, 2021
31209. “One night I went for a walk by the sea along the empty shore. It was not gay, but neither was it sad; it was- beautiful. The deep blue sky was flicked with clouds of a blue deeper than the fundamental blue of intense cobalt, and others of a clearer blue, like the blue whiteness of the Milky Way. On the blue depth the stars were sparkling, greenish, yellow, white, rose, brighter, flashing more like jewels than they do even in Paris. The sea was a very deep ultramarine.” ― Vincent van Gogh, Dear Theo: The Autobiography of Vincent Van Gogh February 13, 2021
31208. “Pink (AQ=86) Pink comes after Red.” ― Reza Negarestani, Cyclonopedia: Complicity with Anonymous Materials February 13, 2021
31207. “the sun shines down upon us, the lucky ones…you’re the radiant autumn leaves, so bright and vibrant, so vivid and ablaze with warming colors…i am your reflection in the river, only just a bit darker, and hazy opaque, and slightly blurred, more cooled by the waters (but still burning for you)…but we’re complimentary mirrors to each other, such beautiful simplicity, two incomplete parts of the perfect whole, we are together one the same…one love in the glowing light” ― Bodhi Smith, Bodhi Smith Impressionist Photography February 13, 2021
31206. “Usually, a fire is red and orange and yellow and black. The fire in the library was colorless. You could look right through it, as if it were sheet of glass. Where the flame had any color, it was pale blue. It was so hot that it appeared icy.” ― Susan Orlean, The Library Book February 13, 2021
31205. “Buttoning up my new damson wool redingote, I put on my other new purchases, a hat trimmed with sable and matching muff and tippet. I had at last found costumes that suited my character: gowns in rich sapphire blues, purples, and emeralds, tight-sleeved and high-waisted. Our neighbor the milliner had taught me a voguish way with broad-brimmed hats, worn at the tilt Van Dyke fashion, with feathers and rosettes.” ― Martine Bailey, A Taste for Nightshade February 13, 2021
31204. “Dreams that splashed myriad colors on his mind’s gray canvas!” ― Avijeet Das February 13, 2021
31203. “She wasn’t particularly artistic, but without thought she knew the combination that would get her the color she wanted. Last night she’d arrived at a rich royal made up of layered cobalt blue and indigo, and she knew exactly what it would taste like. Dry, but not bitter, with a bold apple finish. Not shy of what it was, but proud and majestic. Tonight the greens she sketched spoke to her of gentle whispers and a soft sweetness, with just a lilt of apple, but very refreshing.” ― Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider February 13, 2021
31202. “The stones had come from their orchard, unearthed when the first generation of Lunds began planting the orchard four generations ago. The stones varied in color and shape, from light gray limestone to rusty red granite, each highlighted by the golden light. Above the inset wooden mantel hung a huge collage of watercolor paintings, comprised of six-inch squares, each showcasing a different variety of apple grown in the orchard set against a distinguishing hue.” ― Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider February 13, 2021
31201. “It had withstood the years. His knife sliced it open and the cork was still intact beneath. For a moment the scent was so immediately pungent that all he could do was endure it, teeth clenched, as it worked its will on him. It smelled earthy and a little sour, like the canal in midsummer, with a sharpness which reminded him of the vegetable cutter and the gleeful tang of freshly dug potatoes. For a second the illusion was so strong that he was actually there in that vanished place with Joe leaning on his spade and the radio wedged in a fork in a tree. A sudden overwhelming excitement took hold of him and he poured a small quantity of the wine into a glass, trying not to spill the liquid in his eagerness. It was dusky pink, like papaya juice, and it seemed to climb the sides of the glass in a frenzy of anticipation, as if something inside it were alive and anxious to work its magic on his flesh.” ― Joanne Harris, Blackberry Wine February 13, 2021
31199. “The purer the elements, the purer the work. In painting, there are two methods of expression, form and color; and the purer the colors, the purer the beauty of the work.” ― Anna Gavalda, Hunting and Gathering February 13, 2021
31198. “Yes! The rosy fingers of dawn had finally slipped through the fog and gently pulled it apart, separating the tendrils, weakening it. Wendy watched in fascination. She almost never saw the sunrise except in winter and that was through her window, under the gray sprawl of London Town. Nothing like this. As the sea lightened and the sky began to clear, the two elements resolved themselves into colors unlike anything she was used to: brilliant emerald and deep aquamarine, pellucid azure and shining lapis. It was so storybook perfect she wouldn’t have been surprised at all if the sun came out with a great smiley face drawn on it.” ― Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning February 13, 2021
31197. “Pain is the paper within which the greatest growth is wrapped; despite the fact that this kind of paper can come in the worst of colors.” ― Craig D Lounsbrough February 13, 2021
31196. “Lydia can’t see it from the dark place where she is, but she can sense it. She knows that it’s the perfect time of day out there in the desert. She imagines the colors making a show of themselves outside. The glittering gray pavement, the aching red land. The colors streaking flamboyantly across the sky. When she closes her eyes, she can see them, the paint in the firmament. Dazzling. Purple, yellow, orange, pink, and blue. She can see those perfect colors, hot and bright, a feathered headdress. Beneath, the landscape stretches out its arms.” ― Jeanine Cummins, American Dirt February 13, 2021
31195. “I watched the sunset last night. And given the utter brilliance of it, I likely sat in the company of thousands who found themselves awash in its blaze of colors as well. But sadly, it is just as likely that I was surrounded by thousands of others who never saw the colors because they were awash in lesser things. And I realized that far too often I am in the company of those people. Therefore, I’ll be sitting outside tonight.” ― Craig D. Lounsbrough February 13, 2021
31194. “together our colors sing, ablaze with a melody of passion hues drenched with reds, and yellows, and oranges, mellowed by greens, and cooling blues… floating silently upon the morning breeze, we’re autumn’s leaves falling from trees, landing in the river floating quietly away, upon still waters, wrapped around colorful sighs, a simple, single, infinite moment of living to love” ― Bodhi Smith, Bodhi Smith Impressionist Photography February 13, 2021
31193. “The special was a tomato salad with bacon, basil, and blue cheese. It was a work of art. Fiona had found a rainbow of heirloom tomatoes- red, orange, yellow, green, purple, yellow with green stripes- and she stacked them on the plate in a tower as colorful as children’s blocks.” ― Elin Hilderbrand, The Blue Bistro February 13, 2021
31192. “We were lost then. And talking about dark! You think dark is just one color, but it ain’t. There’re five or six kinds of black. Some silky, some woolly. Some just empty. Some like fingers. And it don’t stay still. It moves and changes from one kind of black to another. Saying something is pitch black is like saying something is green. What kind of green? Green like my bottles? Green like a grasshopper? Green like a cucumber, lettuce, or green like the sky is just before it breaks loose to storm? Well, night black is the same way. May as well be a rainbow.” ― Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon February 13, 2021
31191. “Você é todas as cores em uma, em pleno brilho.” ― Jennifer Niven, All the Bright Places February 13, 2021
31190. “she said simply, ‘my favorite color is you’…and that’s all it took for my heart to be ablaze with love” ― Bodhi Smith, Bodhi Smith Impressionist Photography February 13, 2021
31189. “Atmospheric dust billows in polychromed glitter above me, the vibrant, shimmering haze decorating the blue-blackness of space, and its luminous, variegated hues remind me of the one wish I made on countless stars—I wanted to live in a world of colors, where I could travel to bright and exotic places, where I could see and do magical things. Well, here I am in the most exotic of places, in a world of vivid radiance, with magic all around me. How was I to know the countless times I made that wish I should have specified that those places be free of evil monsters?” ― Garten Gevedon, Dorothy in the Land of Monsters February 13, 2021
31188. “Leaves are love letters that fall from the sky, in the brightest of colors see how they fly! from the fall/autumn poem, Step Out in Color!” ― Suzy Davies, Celebrate The Seasons February 13, 2021
31187. “our life is a coloring book…together we color our world onto the vibrant pages with our radiant hues, saturating and warming our lives with a beauty that’s so filled with colorful luminosity, just like sparkling sunbeams shining through a thousand colorful leaves ablaze on autumn trees” ― Bodhi Smith, Bodhi Smith Impressionist Photography February 13, 2021
31186. “That night I passed by some old places. Everything looked the same way I left it, The same way I always loved and went crazy for. But that moment nothing felt the same; The light has gone and the sparks has dimmed in my eyes. It seems like those places has forever been colorless , but the colors were always there; deep in my eyes …” ― Samiha Totanji February 13, 2021
31185. “If we put the sterile mechanism of our brain on hold, we can view an ocean of enticing eye-opening perspectives. Life offers us an array of choices allowing us to discover a spray of overpowering colors, and hear overwhelming new sounds, and smell the intense fragrances of nature. (“The final decision” )” ― Erik Pevernagie February 13, 2021