Best 1612 quotes in «blue quotes» category

Excelsior," Gansey said bleakly. Blue asked, "What does that even mean?" Gansey looked over his shoulder at her. He was once more, just a little bit closer to the boy she'd seen in the churchyard. "Onward and upward.

Few people realize that the primary purpose of the police is to protect the corporate interests and that protecting the general public is a much lower assignment.

Gansey blinked, slower. The take-out dinner smell had gone away and all that remained was the heavy, pleasant smell of growing things. That, and Blue’s voice on the other end of the phone.

Gansey saying, “I like you an awful lot, Blue Sargent.

Gray. The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usually, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes; each tiny drop of hazy rain drifting around resembled transparent molten steel, the pavement looked like it was about to burst into disconsolate tears, even the air itself was gray, so ultimate and ubiquitous that colour was everywhere around me. Gray...

He lifted his eyes. They were the color of the deepest heart of hurricane clouds, deeper blue than the sky behind him.

For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go. For the blue is not in the place those miles away at the horizon, but in the atmospheric distance between you and the mountains. “Longing,” says the poet Robert Hass, “because desire is full of endless distances.” Blue is the color of longing for the distances you never arrive in, for the blue world.

He kissed her lightly on the nose, and she laughed. Blue eyed her with faux seriousness. "How was that? Any weakness?" "No. But I don't think there would have been anyway." "Well, then, how about this?" His lips brushed hers, his mouth teasing her lower lip, and her eyes closed and she shivered as his fingers caught her hair. And then suddenly, there wasn't any space between them. The sensation of drowning was there, but it wasn't like her strength was leaving her. It was like she wanted to be part of him. Like she didn't know or care where she ended and he began. When they drew apart, she whispered, "No weakness." "Really?" he said. "'Cause I'm feeling a little weak." She felt him smile against her mouth. And they both laughed, shook with it. Their faces were too close, noses and cheeks pressed awkwardly together, but neither one of them moved. She tightened her arms around him, and he held her just as tightly. His breath murmured against her cheek. "You're safe with me, Mira. And I'm safe with you.

Forget-me-nots... She loved those flowers more than any other in their big beautiful garden or in the whole wide world for that matter. They were sky blue, just like his eyes, they held a promise... Forget me not.

Horror is a shock, a time of utter blindness. Horror lacks every hint of beauty. All we can see is the piercing light of an unknown event awaiting us. Sadness, on the other hand, assumes we are in the know... The light of horror thus lost its harshness, and the world was bathed in a gentle, bluish light that actually beautified it.

How do you know, when you think blue — when you say blue — that you are talking about the same blue as anyone else? You cannot get a grip on blue. Blue is the sky, the sea, a god’s eye, a devil’s tail, a birth, a strangulation, a virgin’s cloak, a monkey’s ass. It’s a butterfly, a bird, a spicy joke, the saddest song, the brightest day. Blue is sly, slick, it slides into the room sideways, a slippery trickster. This is a story about the color blue, and like blue, there’s nothing true about it. Blue is beauty, not truth. ‘True blue’ is a ruse, a rhyme; it’s there, then it’s not. Blue is a deeply sneaky color.

I allowed myself a microscopic view into his ice-colored eyes. It was like viewing one of those photographs of the Arctic region – very foreign, exotic, clearly a place you’ve never dreamed of going.

I found an empty chair and sat on it to find myself even emptier. I found a broken glass and looked at it to see my dissolved face a little prettier I found a steep doorway and entered in order to close my exit. From the poem 'Blue Stanzas

I don't want a rainbow... Rainbows have too many colors and none of them receive the appreciation they deserve... I'd prefer a fading red or a striking golden, a shimmery silver or a sober blue... Ruling the sunset sky alone!

If my life were a fragrance, it would smell like the sea.

If You Are Feeling Blue, Try To Paint The Sky With It. When Its Done, Look At It And Then Definitely The Golden Sun Will Come Out From You To Brighten Up Your Entire Day....

If you want to become a positive thinker, don't think lack, think abundance, for you and for everyone. Dream big; as bigger as the blue ocean. Become aware of your thoughts and you will be aware of yourself.

Indigo, the deep blue contains an abundance of sapphires shining their light through the density, awakening and stirring our consciousness. In the daylight the sea will change, but for now it remains mysterious, obtainable through our imagination.

I have a suspicion that when first built, Stonehenge may have glowed blue with St. Elmo's fire during certain times of the year

In the afternoon, over gold screens, I will brush the blue dust of my dreams.

I look up in the sky, what do I see? Well blue.

I can't believe you rode the Tilt-A-Whirl for me. "I must really like you," he says.

I noticed he had begun to do as I did. But then what other models did he have? He was the kind who wore checked shirts tucked into trousers that had two demure pleats in the front.

I remember that day very clearly: I had received a phone call. A friend had been in an accident. Perhaps she would not live. She had very little face, and her spine was broken in two places. She had not yet moved; the doctor described her as “a pebble in water.” I walked around Brooklyn and noticed that the faded peri-winkle of the abandoned Mobil gas station on the corner was suddenly blooming. In the baby-shit yellow showers at my gym, where snow sometimes fluttered in through the cracked gated windows, I noticed that the yellow paint was peeling in spots, and a decent, industrial blue was trying to creep in. At the bottom of the swimming pool, I watched the white winter light spangle the cloudy blue and I knew together they made God. When I walked into my friend’s hospital room, her eyes were a piercing, pale blue and the only part of her body that could move. I was scared. So was she. The blue was beating.

I remember the first time I saw my favorite painting, how its fragile beauty caught my breath. And I thought if the artist had painted just one brushstroke less, he could have told an entirely different story. If he began with a smear of red instead of blue, it could have been a chapter instead of an era.

Is that all?" "That's all there is

I routinely use my blue sky "Device" and it works very well for me.

It's the colors that will make you stray. They sing to you, the not-blue and the searing light, and no matter how tightly you tie yourself to the inbetween, eventually you will break free. No one swims only in the shallow water.

I value individuals and societies. I care about those who are not born yet. That is the reason for my joys and blues.

I want to go to the ocean; Where the water is as dark as your eyes; and while the waves crash in an ivory glance; I want to call you mine.

I want to hold your hand, I say softly. Because we're in public. Because I don't know if he's out. "So hold it," he says. And I do.

Why should I? What do you promise me? Nothing. And everything. A life of danger and adventure. A chance to be yourself. Leave him. Come with me.

I wonder if Blue knows she’s repainting her room.I wonder if he’s asking if she wants a ride to the party tonight.I wonder if he knows what being strangled feels like.

Mira, I'm about to be naked," Blue said as he whipped off his belt and tossed it on the floor. "So watch out. Well, in my underwear." "I've seen you in your bathing suit," Mira said. "It's the same thing." "It is not the same thing," Blue said. "When it's accompanied by seventies porn music, it's an X-rated strip show." Blue yanked off his shirt. "Freddie, you're kind of slow on the uptake. Eine kleine porn music, please.

Mira sat down on the rim of the fountain. The marble ledge was damp, and mist sprinkled her skin. Coins shimmered under the water like fish scales. She counted them, each one a wish, and wondered how love could be anything but good.

I peek up at his features, at the crooked grin i want to savor, at the color in his eyes i'd use to paint a million pictures.

It doesn't matter what my eyes have seen, For the better out of the blue comes green.

It freaks me out they're sort of involved, and yet, one day, Viv's stepmom is going to order Henley to kill Viv." "Tell me about it." Blue switched to an exaggerated shrewish voice. "By the way, garden boy, when you'e done trimming the hedges, could you cut out my daughter's heart and bring it to me so I can eat it? That's a lot to ask of someone you're paying minimum wage.

It’s always fish with you,' Blue said, but she laughed as they tickled round her throat and hands. Gansey glanced at her and away, reaching for another leaf to press into service. Joy gleamed between both of them; how purely and simply Blue and Gansey loved the magic of this place.

It seared her senses; it made her feel alive, even as it sucked that life away - and she kept coming back to it, again and again. Waves of sensation pulled her under - drowning her. But Blue made drowning feel like the loveliest thing. Like she was losing her breath, but she didn't need it, didn't want it, only wanted him.

It's you, " I say. "I know I'm late," he says.

It was tall, made of pale blue light, a creature with long arms and long legs and the shadow of a smile, and above it all, eyes that shone bluer still than its body. "What do you seek in this place?" the shade asked plainly.

It was true that Blue was just shy of five feet and it was also true that she hadn't eaten her greens, but she'd done the research and she didn't think the two were related.

It would appear that the blue sky is actually produced by the solar wind and solar radiation exciting air molecules to emit light, just like a neon lamp!

Mountains in the distance remind me of you.

Night after night on starry wings Night lovers soared so high Miles apart, across the oceans Their love forgot to sigh In heavenly flight’s timelessness That highest height treasured Into the deepest of all blues Their depth of love measured. From the poem 'The Ballad of Night Lovers

Monday is a sloppy umbrella day, which makes everybody a little blue. Cole, dropping by my office in the morning, wastes no time in blowing off steam. "You can TAKE this DAY and SHOVE IT where the SUN DOESN'T SHINE," he growled. "Too late. Somebody already DID THAT.

None of us can help where we were scattered, Blue. But none of us has to remain where we were scattered.

None of the shades of blue can paint the character of few men.

One thing they don’t tell you ’bout the blues when you got ’em, you keep on fallin’ ’cause there ain't no bottom,' sings Emmylou Harris, and she may be right. Perhaps it would help to be told that there is no bottom, save, as they say, wherever and whenever you stop digging. You have to stand there, spade in hand, cold whiskey sweat beaded on your brow, eyes misshapen and wild, some sorry-ass grave digger grown bone-tired of the trade. You have to stand there in the dirty rut you dug, alone in the darkness, in all its pulsing quiet, surrounded by the scandal of corpses.