Color Language Quotes

Color is a language. It is the language of painting. How painting expresses itself is in large part with color. ~ Joseph Raffael

Toeing the starting line of a marathon, regardless of the language you speak, the God you worship or the color of your skin, we all stand as equal. Perhaps the world would be a better place if more people ran. ~ Dean Karnazes

How comes it that you curse, Frere Jean? It's only, said the monk, in order to embellish my language. They are the colors of Ciceronian rhetoric. ~ Francois Rabelais

Color is a language, like music. ~ Vlady Kibalchich Russakov

My interest is in how meaning is communicated via language, and I believe the shape, positioning, even the color of the language has an effect on meaning. ~ Mark Z. Danielewski

That means that every human being - without distinction of sex, age, race, skin color, language, religion, political view, or national or social origin - possesses an inalienable and untouchable dignity. ~ Hans Kung

Every different director has another language - for instance, Hitchcock does not like any bright color ever, unless the story says 'there goes the girl in a red dress.' ~ Edith Head

As my friend Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe has argued persuasively, there is an element of positivity in the visible world, and in color particularly, that totally eludes the historicity of language, with its protocols of absence and polarity. The color red, as an attribute of the world, is always there. It is something other than the absence of yellow and blue
and, thus, when that red becomes less red, it becomes more one or the other. It never exists in a linguistic condition of degradation or excess that must necessarily derive from our expectations. ~ Dave Hickey

[John Clare's] father was a casual farm labourer, his family never more than a few days' wages from the poorhouse. Clare himself, from early childhood, scraped a living in the fields. He was schooled capriciously, and only until the age of 12, but from his first bare contact fell wildly in love with the written word. His early poems are remarkable not only for the way in which everything he sees flares into life, but also for his ability to pour his mingled thoughts and observations on to the page as they occur, allowing you, as perhaps no other poet has done, to watch the world from inside his head. Read The Nightingale's Nest, one of the finest poems in the English language, and you will see what I mean.
("John Clare, poet of the environmental crisis 200 years ago" in The Guardian.) ~ George Monbiot

So here's the truth - I love you. I love everything about you – the way you stick up for people even when it costs you. The way you keep trying to do the right thing even when you're not exactly sure what the right thing is. I love how you put words together. You're as skilled with words as any knife fighter with a blade. You can put an enemy down on his back, or you can raise people up so they find what's best in themselves. You've changed my life. You've given me the words I need to become whatever I want.
I love how you talk to lytlings. You don't talk down to them. You respect them, and anybody can tell you're actually interested in what they have to say.
I love the way you ride a horse – how you stick there like an upland thistle, whooping like a Demonai. I love the way you throw back your head and stomp your feet when you dance. I love how you go after what you want – whether it's kisses or a queendom.
I love your skin, like copper dusted over with gold. And your eyes – they're the color of a forest lake shaded by evergreens. One of the secret places that only the Demonai know about.
I love the scent of you – when you've been out in the fresh air, and that perfume you put behind your ears sometimes.
Believe it or not, I even love your road smell – of sweat and horses and leather and wool.
I want to breathe you in for the rest of my life. ~ Cinda Williams Chima

Our visual field, the entire view of what we can see when we look out into the world, is divided into billions of tiny spots or pixels. Each pixel is filled with atoms and molecules that are in vibration. The retinal cells in the back of our eyes detect the movement of those atomic particles. Atoms vibrating at different frequencies emit different wavelengths of energy, and this information is eventually coded as different colors by the visual cortex in the occipital region of our brain. A visual image is built by our brain's ability to package groups of pixels together in the form of edges. Different edges with different orientations - vertical, horizontal and oblique, combine to form complex images. Different groups of cells in our brain add depth, color and motion to what we see. ~ Jill Bolte Taylor

Paul Klee seems to handle colors and dreams as if they both came out of a box of children's toys. He plays and dreams with whatever he finds. ~ Jean Helion

I'm the kind of person whose clothes are all hung up and color-coordinated, to the point where my whites don't touch my creams. ~ Gabrielle Union

Yet why must grammar be like a prison for the mind? Might not language be as a closet full of gowns? Of a generally similar cut, with a hole for the head and neck to pass, but filled with difference and a variety of trimmings so that we don't grow bored? ~ Danielle Dutton

You call me but I can't hear. I speak a language you don't know. The body falling by the side of the bed. Eyes closed contemplating the night. I conjugate language that doesn't exist. The imaginary and its child the failurative. I speak stiff, the language she didn't teach me before she left. I speakstiff with all my stiffened body. I want to come back to you but I can't. Because of the red liqueur which is spreading in my blood. Because of the red liqueur which paralyses my brain. I can't come back to you. I'm slipping out to sea as I look back at the harbour. You're holding my hand but you're only holding on to wood. You're speaking to me but I hear only the walls. You're smiling but I'm on the other side of the mirror. The woman in mauve is carrying me off to her castle. And the silent coachman accompanies her. ~ Jeanne Hyvrard

Recognizing Muhammad
Before Muhammad appeared in form,
there were scriptural references. People imagined how he would be and called
on his presence in battle and sickness. They had thoughts and language about Muhammad.
What good was that? Not everyone recognizes Muhammad. Many have a conception
of him they can stand to live with. They don't know that if the shadow of
Muhammad's true form falls across a wall, the wall will bleed! And it will
no longer have two sides! What a blessing to be one thing. When others saw Muhammad,
their awe evaporated, as counterfeit coins turn black in the flame. There are false
coins who claim they want to be tested, all bravado. And there are touchstones that
do not reveal impostors. There are mirrors that hide your flaws. Avoid hypocritical
praise, and keep away from flattering mirrors, if you possibly can. ~ Rumi

On the whole I try to keep Modesty and Willie in timeless settings, which is why I avoid all the latest slang and in-words. It won't be long before 'brill' sounds as dated as 'super' does now. [Uncle Happy, 1990] ~ Peter O'Donnell

The seasons split at the seams: spring, summer, fall and winter. I've always pictured them as giant sacks filled with air and color and smell. When it's time for one season to be over, the next seasons splits open and pours over the world, drowning its tired and waning predecessor with its strength. ~ Tarryn Fisher

The translator, a lonely sort of acrobat, becomes confused in a labyrinth of paradox, or climbs a pyramid of dependent clauses and has to invent a way down from it in his own language. ~ Lydia Davis

Long as I can spell G-o-d I got somebody along. ~ Alice Walker

While gently pushing her towards the dressing room, Lazarus ventured, "Can I ask you something kind of personal?"

Pulling her shirt over her head behind the curtain, and holding her hand out for the corset, she replied, "Anything for you, Laz."

"How are you still friends with him?"

"Can you hook this thing?" Holding the corset on her stomach, Lazarus peeked through the curtain, fingers deftly snapping the twenty hook-and-eye latches. "He saved my life. There are a million reasons to hate him, but there are a million and one reasons to forgive him for his faults."

Twisting to look in the mirror, adjusting her breasts in the tight silk, she continued, "He'll say the worst thing at the worst possible time, except every once in awhile, he says the one most perfect thing that just makes you want to cry from happiness. He knows the exact way you need to be touched at any moment, in any mood, like he's fucking telepathic. He'll make you want to scream when he ignores you, but then you find out he knows your favorite color, your favorite meal, what movie makes you cry and he can list every little thing in the entire world that you hate. And mostly? Well," Turning to face Lazarus and strike a pose, "I just can't fucking stop. ~ Shannon Noelle Long

The English love for privacy is proverbial, and has not been exaggerated. A stranger who strikes up a conversation is looked upon with suspicion - unless he happens to be an American, when his ignorance of good manners is indulged. ~ Henry Steele Commager

You have heard of the new chemical nomenclature endeavored to be introduced by Lavoisier, Fourcroy, &c. Other chemists of this country, of equal note, reject it, and prove in my opinion that it is premature, insufficient and false. These latter are joined by the British chemists; and upon the whole, I think the new nomenclature will be rejected, after doing more harm than good. There are some good publications in it, which must be translated into the ordinary chemical language before they will be useful. ~ Thomas Jefferson

I wonder if any element of interior design is more personal than color? Nothing can more quicly reveal aspect of personality and character than the choice - or absence - of color. ~ Van Day Truex

Seriously, I do not know what to say of this book [ Absalom, Absalom!] except that it seem to point to the final blowup of what was once a remarkable, if minor, talent ... this is a penny dreadful tricked up in fancy language and given a specious depth by the expert manipulation of a series of eccentric technical tricks. The characters have no magnitude and no meaning because they have no more reality than a mince-pie nightmare. ~ Clifton Fadiman

If wanderers were not themselves the cause, then like the scent and color
of the lotus in the sky, there would be no perception of the universe. ~ Nagarjuna

I am not dead yet! I can still call forth a piece of soul and set it down in color, fixed forever. ~ Keri Hulme

I call the language of political figures, pundits and administrators 'the haute couture of language.' ~ Anna Deavere Smith

What if butterflies just exist to bring color and joy to the world? What if their sole purpose in life is to freely flit around and remind us that we are born with the innate ability to not only survive, but to fly?" He was being profound and poetic, while she was being scientific. Mary grew silent and thought before she spoke. "Maybe so, but they don't live forever." "Neither do we or any other thing on the planet. It's butterflies' abilities to happily fly despite everything around them that makes them free. ~ Nicole Renee Wyatt

We desire more public space for secularism, space that would recognize secularism as a legitimate moral stance. But we simultaneously desire more religious freedom (which is not the same as advocating more religion)... We want the freedom not to be religious and the freedom to be religious differently... We think it's important for Americans to come to terms with th fact that Christianity, and often conservative Christianity, functions as the yardstick and measure of what counts as 'religion' and 'morality' in America... In short, for dissenting views to be heard currently, they have to speak the language of a consensus from which they are already excluded. The price of refusing to speak this common language is either not to be recognized at all or to be recognized only so as to be dismissed as an 'extremist. ~ Janet R. Jakobsen

Who climbs the grammar-tree, distinctly knows Where noun, and verb, and participle grows. ~ John Dryden

Language is a theme in the whole book, no? I mean it ends with the title poem about words are all we have. I guess midrash makes sense. How does it change in the course of the sequence? Well, God is into No and into Stasis/Nouns. Adam and Eve, in order to be in this world (and get this world going) must choose verbs. Which is to gain sex but also to choose death and all else that goes with change. To choose becoming over being. ~ Gregory Orr

He's a funny one," said Ida. "Here's how he sound." She pursed her lips and, expertly, imitated the red-winged blackbird's call: not the liquid piping of the wood thrush, which dipped down into the dry tchh tchh tchh of the cricket's birr and up again in delerious, sobbing trills; not the clear, three-note whistle of the chickadee or even the blue jay's rough cry, which was like a rusty gate creaking. This was an abrupt, whirring, unfamiliar cry, a scream of warning -congeree!- which choked itself off on a subdued, fluting note. ~ Donna Tartt

Is only a novel ... or, in short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language. ~ Victoria Connelly

All alone - shorn of context, without captions - a photograph is neither true nor false ... For truth, properly considered, is about the relationship between language and the world, not about photographs and the world. ~ Errol Morris

Musicians can travel all over the world and have an audience, because there's no language barrier. ~ Tommy Chong

Daphne turned to Simon with an amused expression. "I can't quite decide if she is being terribly polite or exquisitely rude."
"Exquisitely polite, perhaps?" Simon asked mildly.
She shook her head. "Oh, definitely not that."
"The alternative, of course, is - "
"Terribly rude?" Daphne grinned and watched as her mother looped her arm through Lord Railmont's, pointed him toward Daphne so that he could nod his good-bye, and led him from the room.
And then, as if by magic, the remaining beaux murmured their hasty farewells and followed suit.
"Remarkably efficient, isn't she?" Daphne murmured.
"Your mother? She's a marvel."
"She'll be back, of course."
"Pity. And here I thought I had you well and truly in my clutches."
Daphne laughed. "I don't know how anyone considered you a rake. Your sense of humor is far too superb."
"And here we rakes thought we were so wickedly droll."
"A rake's humor," Daphne stated, "is essentially cruel."
Her comment surprised him. He stared at her intently, searching her brown eyes, and yet not really knowing what it was he was looking for.
There was a narrow ring of green just outside her pupils, the color as deep and rich as moss. He'd never seen her in the daylight before, he realized.
"Your grace?" Daphne's quiet voice snapped him out of his daze.
Simon blinked. "I beg your pardon."
"You looked a thousand miles away," she said, her brow wrinkling.
Julia Quinn

Color always vexed me because I would fight with the media I was using. I love coloring in Photoshop, and it's freed me to pursue ideas and techniques I wouldn't have otherwise attempted. Since I get to take an assignment from concept to final execution, I have more freedom in my idea-making processes. ~ Adam Hughes

Whatever is language is poetic language and if the word required by the poet does not exist in his known language then it is up to him to discover it. ~ Lenore Kandel

'Rednecks' always made me nervous to play, but I'm glad I wrote it and I continue to play it. It's just that the language is so rough. ~ Randy Newman

One thinks about modern academics, especially philosophers and sociologists. Their language is often voiceless and without power because it is so utterly cut off from experience and things. There is no sense of words carrying experiences, only of reflecting relationships between other words or between "concepts." There is no sense of an actual self seeing a thing or having an experience... Sociology - by its very nature? - seems to be an enterprise whose practitioners cut themselves off from experience and things and deal entirely with categories about categories. As a result sociologists, more even than writers in other disciplines, often write language which has utterly died ~ Peter Elbow

Short work of fiction by Jorge Luis Borges, "The Library of Babel." Imagine an infinite number of rooms, stacked atop one another, in which are stored not only all the books ever written but also all the books that ever will be, each of them in every dialect of every language known to mankind and of every language yet to be learned or formed in days to come. In addition, there is a book of the life of everyone who has ever lived or will live, and an infinite number of other volumes of all genres and purposes that could be imagined. There are books that make no sense and books that seem to make sense but perhaps do not. And the sheer quantity ensures that no one can read a sufficient percentage of it to arrive at an explanation of the library, life, or anything else. Bibi ~ Dean Koontz

It's different and bold. It stands out amongst a blank world of black, white, and gray. Orange is the early morning sun stretching across the sky and the color of a burning ember standing tall in the middle of a beach bonfire. It's leaves in the fall, carrots in Nana's vegetable soup on a cold winter day, tulips in the spring, and the ladybugs in the middle of the grassy park on a hot summer afternoon. Orange is life. It's unexpected but beautiful. ~ Aly Martinez

eyes, the color of a forest blanketed in the shadow of a violent storm. They ~ M.S. Willis

Good art has everything you need to know about it in the work, not on a wall label. Art is here to take us beyond language. ~ Walter Darby Bannard