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Colours Quotes

Browse 60 quotes about Colours.

Colours Quotes

“Bright blue/green eyes I adore, with me for them admiration I store, yet I have a woman in my life, brightly eyed, that I love, like a wife. I love the sky at early dawn, when ancient sorrow it makes gone, I love the sea, where birds would soar, ever moments with her I adore.”

“Allow each lamp you light to bring a smile to your face and to enlighten your soul. Allow the earthen lamp’s flame to cleanse your heart, mind, and soul. May the Diwali lamps brighten your life and the rangoli add more colours to it. May the sound of crackers and sweets bring more glee and cheer. The mirth, merriment, and joy of this divine festival surround you for the rest of your life. Happy Deepavali.”

“I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours. Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...”

“When she started with the first empty canvas, she didn’t know what she was going to paint, she just let her paint brushes glide and they religiously followed the trajectory of her angst; the choice of colours and the strokes, they were all a reflection of what was going through her mind. The reds were the embers within her that refused to die. The blues were the rare instances when she was spent by her grief. The blacks were her moments of absolute weakness, the colour of the bottomless pit within her that she had plunged into, falling through and through. The brush strokes moved around blank canvases like snakes with fangs of elixir that filled her scars with a deluge of hope and a gale of faith in herself. The colours spoke to her in whispers, narrating their own tale while she poured out hers to them. They allowed her to channel her life through them. They listened. They cared. They laughed. They cried. They reassured her that there was life waiting ahead, staring at her past, urging her forward with eager arms. And Preeti rushed into them with her brush in hand that rose along with her and fell along with her.”

“Η Μάγδα Λεμονιέρ κόβει από τις εφημερίδες λέξεις κάθε μεγέθους και τις φυλάει σε κουτιά. Τις οργισμένες λέξεις τις φυλάει σε κόκκινο κουτί. Τις λέξεις αγάπης, σε πράσινο κουτί. Τις ουδέτερες, σε μπλε κουτί. Τις μελαγχολικές, σε κίτρινο κουτί. Και σ'ένα διάφανο κουτί φυλάει τις μαγικές λέξεις. Συχνά ανοίγει τα κουτιά και τα τοποθετεί ανάποδα πάνω στο τραπέζι, έτσι ώστε οι λέξεις να ανακατευτούν όπως τους γουστάρει. Τότε οι λέξεις της λένε τι συμβαίνει, και τι πρόκειται να συμβεί.”

“Watoto hupenda vitu vinavyong’aa ambavyo havijatulia na vilivyopangiliwa vizuri. Hivyo ndivyo macho ya binadamu yalivyo: yana unyevu na yanaakisi mwanga, hayajatulia, na yana rangi kadha wa kadha ikiwa ni pamoja na kope na vigubiko vya macho ambavyo pia hazijatulia. Mtoto mchanga hasa yule anayeona vizuri huangalia macho pale anapopata nafasi, kwa maana ya kuyashangaa. Vilevile, huangalia macho kwa maana ya kupokea molekuli ya maadili au homoni inayorahisisha maisha kutoka kwa mama yake iitwayo ‘oxytocin’. ‘Oxytocin’ husisimua ubongo wake na kuutayarisha kupokea neno lolote litakalosemwa na mama yake mzazi au mama yake mlezi.”

“Wear red and just be silent, don’t even whisper by yourself; you will see that you will be heard easily because red always speaks on behalf of you! By wearing red, you give your tongue and voice to red colour!”

“I suppose the study was more of a library, as I couldn't see any of the walls thanks to the small labyrinths of stacks flanking the main area and a mezzanine dangling above, covered wall to wall in books. But study sounded less intimidating. I meandered through some of the stacks, following a trickle of sunlight to a bank of windows on the far side. I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow. I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colours, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the window.”

“You must tell me about it when you do,' she said. 'When you make love for the first time, I mean. I want to know what you think.' He glanced away from her, out of the window. An ice-cream parlour, a man with a dog, a tree. How was he going to get out of shopping next week? 'It's so wonderful, it's like,' and she left her mouth open while she thought, and then it came to her, and she smiled, 'it's like colours everywhere.”