Salony Orange Quotes

I woke to a day that was bright and crisp. The sun rose through my bedroom window in an orange light and I tried to let its happy glow fill me up, wanting desperately to absorb every bit of winter rays that this day was gifting. ~ Susie Newman

It's what I'll be singing in the morning. It won't be God Save the Ruddy King or All Things bleeding Bright and Beautiful. It'll be Orange and Lemons for Big Joe, for all of us. ~ Michael Morpurgo

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her, and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything: then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves: here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed: it was labelled "ORANGE MARMALADE," but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar, for fear of killing somebody underneath, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it. ~ Lewis Carroll

Did he just rip out the engine?" I asked.
"Yes", Saiman said. "And now he is demolishing the Maserati with it."
Ten seconds later Curran hurled the twisted wreck of black and orange that used to be the Maserati into the wall.
The first melodic notes of an old song came from the computer. I glanced at Saiman.
He shrugged. "It begged for a soundtrack. ~ Ilona Andrews

The Ballad of Lucy Jordan
The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.

Her husband, he's off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.

The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.

At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along t ~ Marianne Faithfull

It's hard to do nothing totally. Even just sitting here, like this, our bodies are churning, our minds are chattering. There's a whole commotion going on inside us."
"That's bad?" I said.
"It's bad if we want to know what's going on outside ourselves."
"Don't we have eyes and ears for that?"
She nodded. "They're okay most of the time. But sometimes they just get in the way. The earth is speaking to us, but we can't hear because of all the racket our senses are shaking. Sometimes we need to erase them, erase our senses. Then-maybe- the earth will touch us. The universe will speak. The stars will whisper."
The sun was glowing orange now, clipping the mountains' purple crests.
"So how do I become this nothing?"
"I'm not sure,"she said "There's no one answer to that. You have to find your own way. Sometimes I try to erase myself. I imagine a big pink soft soap eraser, and it's going back and forth, back and forth, and it starts down at my toes, back and forth, back and forth, and there they go-poof!-my toes are gone. And then my feet. And then my ankles. But that's the easy part. The hard part is erasing my senses-my eyes,my ears,my nose, my tongue. And last to go is my brain. My thoughts, memories, all the voices inside my head. That's the hardest, erasing my thoughts." She chuckled faintly. "My pumpkin. And then, if I've done a good job, I'm erased. I'm gone. I'm nothing. And then the world is free to flow into me like water into and emp ~ Jerry Spinelli

Before heading back up the road, she had turned for a moment toward the sea. In the late afternoon light, the water was gray wrinkled with orange. Tiger water, she called it when it looked like that. Rhino water was smooth and leaden, dull as smoke. But her favorite was polar bear water, when the moon hung low and large, as if too heavy to rise very high, and scattered great radiant patches, like ice floes, across a dark blue ocean. ~ Julia Glass

Salmon with whisky-maple glaze, surrounded by a trio of colors- peas with mint, carrots with maple and thyme, and neeps and tatties with nutmeg and parsley. Green, orange, white. And we can put the salmon on a bed of risotto and mushrooms. ~ Penny Watson

What are those purple things?"
"Carrots."
"Carrots are orange."
"And purple." He didn't mention the turnips and cauliflower in the mix. He knew his quarry.
"Why would somebody dye a harmless carrot purple?"
"They're not dyed, they're natural. Have some more wine," he said, topping off her glass, "and try them out. ~ J.D. Robb

I'm in a shallow hole, not filled with the humming orange bubbles of my hallucination but with old, dead leaves. ~ Suzanne Collins

My two primary areas of focus have been open-space conservation and education, and I expect those to remain my priorities in the future. The Irvine open space and parklands provide serenity and balance to our unique Orange County lifestyle. ~ Donald Bren

If there were as great a scarcity of soil as of jewels or precious metals, there would not be a prince who would not spend a bushel of diamonds and rubies and a cartload of gold just to have enough earth to plant a jasmine in a little pot, or to sow an orange seed and watch it sprout, grow, and produce its handsome leaves, its fragrant flowers, and fine fruit. ~ Galileo Galilei

Making these choices [to attend school instead of skipping], as it turned out, wasn't about willpower. I always admired people who "willed" themselves to do something, because I have never felt I was one of them. If sheer will were enough by itself, it would have been enough a long time ago, back on University Avenue, I figured. It wasn't, not for me anyway. Instead, I needed something to motivate me. I needed a few things that I could think about in my moments of weakness that would cause me to throw off the blanket and walk through the front door. More than will, I needed something to inspire me.

One thing that helped was a picture I kept in mind, this image that I used over and over whenever I was faced with these daily choices. I pictured a runner running on a racetrack. The image was set in the summertime and the racetrack was a reddish orange, divided in white racing stripes to flag the runners' columns. Only, the runner in my mental image did not run alongside others; she ran solo, with no one watching her. And she did not run a free and clear track, she ran one that required her to jump numerous hurdles, which made her break into a heavy sweat under the sun. I used this image every time I thought of things that frustrated me: the heavy books, my crazy sleep schedule, the question of where I would sleep and what I would eat. To overcome these issues I pictured my runner bolting down the track, jumping hurdles toward the finish line.

Hunger, hurdle ~ Liz Murray

New York means many different things to me. It certainly means cheesecake, more species of cheesecake than I ever knew existed: rum, orange, hazelnut, chocolate marble, Italian, Boston, and of course, New York. ~ David Frost

You have lost your reason and taken the wrong path. You have taken lies for truth, and hideousness for beauty. You would marvel if, owing to strange events of some sorts, frogs and lizards suddenly grew on apple and orange trees instead of fruit, or if roses began to smell like a sweating horse; so I marvel at you who exchange heaven for earth. I don't want to understand you. ~ Anton Chekhov

And that historical moment when the young Aphrodite held Poseidon`s magnificent phallus in her small hand & squeezed it was the greatest event of the universe since the Big Bang. It was the moment when Eros, separated from Himeros & Chaos in the Big Bang, were reunited, to become one again. And all who were there saw Aphrodite`s girdle changed its colour from a passion red to orange, & then to gold, the colour of Love. ~ Nicholas Chong

The physical five oranges goes up the ladder to the picture of the five oranges which goes up to the representation of the five oranges as a numeral. This points in the direction of a definition of abstraction: when we abstract we voluntarily ignore details of a context, so that we can accomplish a goal. ~ Dan Meyer

The more innocuous the name of a weapon, the more hideous its impact. Some of the most horrific weapons of the Vietnam era were named 'Bambi', 'Infant', 'Daisycutter', 'Grasshopper', and 'Agent Orange'. Nor is the trend new: from the past we have 'Mustard Gas', 'Angel Chasers' (two cannonballs linked with a chain for added destruction) and 'The Peacemaker' to name but a few.) ~ Paul Dickson

It was like that class at school where the teacher talks about Realization, about how you could realize something big in a commonplace thing. The example he gave
and the liar said it really happened
was that once while drinking orange juice, he'd realized he would be dead someday. He wondered if we, his students, had had similar 'realizations.'
Is he kidding? I thought.
Once I cashed a paycheck and I realized it wasn't enough.
Once I had food poisoning, and realized I was trapped inside my body. ~ Amy Hempel

We stayed because the city sounds like a war, and you can't leave a war once you've been, you can only keep it at bay ~ Tommy Orange

Missouri Ann ate her bit of orange slowly. "Tastes like summer," she said. ~ Sandra Dallas

I turn and walk back to the home shore whose tall yellow bluffs still bare of snow I can see nearly half a mile to the north. I find my way as I came, over dusty sandbars and by old channels, through shrubby stands of willows. The cold, late afternoon sun breaks through its cloud cover and streaks the grey sand mixed with snow.

As it has fallen steadily in the past weeks, the river has left behind many shallow pools, and these are now roofed with ice. When I am close to the main shore I come upon one of them, not far from the wooded bank. The light snow that fell a few days ago has blown away; the ice is polished and is thick enough to stand on. I can see to the bottom without difficulty, as through heavy dark glass.

I bend over, looking at the debris caught there in the clear, black depth of the ice: I see a few small sticks, and many leaves. There are alder leaves, roughly toothed and still half green; the more delicate birch leaves and aspen leaves, the big, smooth poplar leaves, and narrow leaves from the willows. They are massed or scattered, as they fell quietly or as the wind blew them into the freezing water. Some of them are still fresh in color, glowing yellow and orange; others are mottled with grey and brown. A few older leaves lie sunken and black on the silty bottom. Here and there a pebble of quartz is gleaming. But nothing moves there. It is a still, cold world, something like night, with its own fixed planets and stars. ~ John Meade Haines

Nature is especially beautiful in autumn and all seem unreal. Somewhere leaves still are green but orange red and yellow fire eats all. But nature is imperishable until winter and before funeral snowfall. ~ Bryanna Reid

The sun was now in its death throes, bruising the sky a coiling purple and orange. ~ Harlan Coben

My love for you is like a Florida sunset. Orange, coral, pink, and lavender, it exists to warm your heart through the inevitable darkness. ~ Jarod Kintz

Such a slender moon, going up and up, Waxing so fast from night to night, And swelling like an orange flower-bud, bright, Fated, methought, to round as to a golden cup, And hold to my two lips life's best of wine. ~ Jean Ingelow

So
what's it like, being a vampire?"
"Aline!" Isabelle looked appalled. "You can't just go around asking people what's it like to be a vampire!"
"I don't see why," Aline said. "He hasn't been a vampire that long, has he? So he must still remember what it was like being a person." She turned back to Simon. "Does blood taste like blood to you? Or does it taste like something else now, like orange juice or something? Because I would think the taste of blood would-"
"It tastes like chicken," Simon said, just to shut her up.
"Really?" Aline looked astonished.
"He's making fun of you, Aline," said Sebastain ~ Cassandra Clare

Some social or economic upheavals always seem to come out of the blue, but we should nonetheless ask ourselves if we are right to regard them as the result of an impenetrable destiny.
The volume of futures contracts on financial instruments and raw materials has recently exceeded by a factor of twenty times the volume of the goods that they relate to. Just as forty years ago the arms race brought nuclear weapons that had the capacity to exterminate a population twenty times larger than that of the whole world, so today finance is ruled by processes and mechanisms that stand alone and are divorced from reality.
Like the man whose finger hovered just above the red button, the hedge fund managers or traders who follow their orders have no understanding of the effects of their actions on the world population and don't know about its dramas, which are considered as minor inconveniences along the way.
Every time we make a purchase, buy a loaf or a glass of orange juice, we need to know that the flour and juice that we are paying for, even the coins we use to pay for it, have already been bought and sold twenty times before they end up in our hands.
Those who can afford to pay the amount they are asked for don't worry about it: producers are oppressed by the fluctuations in the price of raw materials but nobody listens to them.
The size and range of transactions on the financial markets are increasing and their effects grow ever more violent and unpredicta ~ John Rupert McGregor 1959 -2012

Let's be perfectly clear, shall we. The fox is not a little orange puppy dog with doe eyes and a waggly tail. It's a disease-ridden wolf with the morals of a psychopath and the teeth of a great white shark. ~ Jeremy Clarkson

The majority of (painters), because they aren't colorists, do not see yellow, orange or sulphur in the South (of France) and they call a painter mad if he sees with eyes other than theirs ~ Vincent Van Gogh

Hollywood is a great place if you're an orange. ~ Fred Allen

No blue without yellow and without orange, and if you do blue, then do yellow and orange as well, surely. ~ Vincent Van Gogh

We pretended there was no problem with Agent Orange after Vietnam and later the Pentagon recanted, after untold suffering by veterans. ~ Jim McDermott

If we go that way, it seems less like we'll be shot for trespassing. We can't be low profile because of your shirt."
"Aquamarine is a wonderful color, and I won't be made to feel bad for wearing it," Gansey said. But his voice was a bit thin, and he glanced back at the church again. Just then he looked younger than she'd ever seen him, his eyes narrowed, hair messed up, features unstudied. Young and, strangely enough, afraid.
Blue thought: I can't tell him. I can never tell him. I have to just try to stop it from happening.
Then Gansey, suddenly charming again, flipped a hand in the direct of her purple tunic dress. "Lead the way, Eggplant."
She found a stick to poke at the ground for snakes before they set off through the grass. The wind smelled like rain, and the ground rumbled with thunder, but the weather held. The machine in Gansey's hands blinked red constantly, only flickering to orange when they stepped too far away from the invisible line.
"Thanks for coming, Jane," Gansey said.
Blue shot him a dirty look. "You're welcome, Dick."
He looked pained. "Please don't. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

It stood in the middle of a vast yard behind the terribly strange house. And this tree rose up some one hundred feet in the air, taller than the high roofs and full and round and well branched, and covered all over with rich assortments of red and brown and yellow autumn leaves.
"But," whispered Tom, "oh, look. What's up in that tree!"
For the Tree was hung with a variety of pumpkins of every shape and size and a number of tints and hues of smoky yellow or bright orange."
"A pumpkin tree," someone said.
"No," said Tom.
The wind blew among the high branches and tossed their bright burdens, softly.
"A Halloween Tree," said Tom.
And he was right. ~ Ray Bradbury

You know," I saw, leaning across the table and taking her hand. "I could have sex with a thousand women, and it wouldn't feel like it did that night in the orange grove. ~ Tarryn Fisher

She sent me a sunny smile, and what a smile, George; it was a smile that could have melted the whole world, because if the whole world had seen it, it would have had the power to stop all wars and hatred on the face of the planet, or at lease there would have been some long ceasefires. ~ Jostein Gaarder

we smelled the blotter of lavender a second time. I was surprised to find that it had changed. Most materials do, Fauvel explained. Some burst into the nose immediately and leave just as fast, ones like lemon, like orange, like ginger. Those, she said, are called top notes. Middle notes, like geranium and rose, linger but not for the long term. Base notes like sandalwood or musk stick around a while. ~ Molly Birnbaum

Jaded. I never understood the term. Jade is pretty and worth something, yes? I was rusted if I was anything. Too long in the rain. Going out in an orange blaze of muted, anonymous, common-as-dirt oxidation. ~ Trebor Healey

Time has us. It holds us in it's mouth like an owl holds a field mouse. We shiver, we struggle for release, and then it pecks out our eyes and intestines for sustenance and we die the death of field mice. ~ Tommy Orange

The neon orange orb sat low in the sky, slowly breaking free of the horizon like the waking memory of a dream. The salty air smelled faintly of fish, and was thick with humidity and hung like a cloak over my body. The lavender sky at the horizon faded into cerulean above and behind me. The soft breeze whispered past my face, teasing my hair on its way to tickle the sawgrass that swayed in gratitude as if laughing like a child.


I sat on the top plank of the boardwalk rail, the wood heavy with atmosphere and was damp and cool under my left palm. The surprising warmth of the winter air and the cool of the wood reminded me that yes, I am alive! Yes, I am grateful for this morning! And yes, I am glad to be here!


The paper in my notebook as I wrote this began to feel sticky and moist within a few minutes. The ink from my pen seemed to grip the paper faster and firmer as if to say, I'm here, I'm happy, and I don't want to lose this moment. Like my ink, I too wanted to cling to this morning.


The sky started turning a peachy orange at the bottom and the ocean was sea foam green. The waves were breaking quietly, as if to give my thoughts amplitude so I could record and rejoice in the sea's majesty. 


The sand was gray and silky like a freshly pressed pair of slacks. The smooth beach seemed paved with sunlight. A jogger ran by, his knees probably grateful for the even stride the flat surface provided. 


Chunks of sea foam lay str ~ Jarod Kintz

Crying is for when there's nothing else left to do. ~ Tommy Orange

I took a fortifying breath, stood, and made my way out to the living room. Clay waited for me by the kitchenette. He had a glass of orange juice ready for me. He knew me well. I smiled my thanks and gulped it down. It felt good and gave me a tiny energy boost. "I ~ Melissa Haag

October 3, 2017

The clown, Hagarty said, looked like a cross between Ronald McDonald and that old TV clown, Bozo - or so he thought at first. It was the wild tufts of orange hair that brought such comparisons to mind. But later consideration had caused him to think the clown really looked like neither. The smile painted over the white pancake was red, not orange, and the eyes were a weird shiny silver. Contact lenses, perhaps . . . but a part of him thought then and continued to think that maybe that silver had been the real color of those eyes. He wore a baggy suit with big orange-pompom buttons; on his hands were cartoon gloves.
"If you need help, Don," the clown said, "help yourself to a balloon."
And it offered the bunch it held in one hand.
"They float," the clown said. "Down here we all float; pretty soon your friend will float, too. ~ Stephen King

Back then I wanted all my seasons to be Mississippi seasons, no matter how strange, hot, or terrifying. Now I felt something else. I didn't want to float in, under, and around all the orange-red stars in our galaxy if our galaxy was Mississippi. I wanted to look at Mississippi from other stars and I didn't ever want to come home again. ~ Kiese Laymon

The sunset over the bay that evening was a conflagration of blood-red and orange and deep, gold-edged purple. I remember: unforgettable. ~ Anne Rivers Siddons

With the last of the sun flickering orange light across her face, she hitched up her long skirt and started the steep climb to the stone circle. ~ Valerie Biel

From what I've gathered during the time I could stomach listening to your omegas exaggerate every good thing about you, Violet is going tonight to try to talk Arion into some deal with real peace between you two. It's cute how she thinks life is simply that simple. The omegas adore her just for trying to give it a shot."

He flicks an orange peel away after he licks it clean like he's the wolf.

"The only good part of all this is that I now know you'll never again get laid by those wolves, no matter how much they praise you to Violet. They've not just picked out a girlfriend; they've picked you out a mate."

I glare at him, and he just grins, never meeting my eyes.

"Too bad I'm way out ahead of you," he adds.

"I'd say Vance is winning, if this is a sprint instead of a marathon," I tell him, still not even sure if I actually want her or if I just want her long enough to piss them all off.

"Vance lucked into his moment and failed to follow-through with charming stalkery. She's leaving a window open for me at night now."

I roll my eyes as I start heading toward the omega wing. ~ Kristy Cunning

What Claire could do with the edible flowers that grew around the cranky apple tree in the backyard was the stuff of legend. Everyone knew that if you got Claire to cater your anniversary party, she would make aioli sauce with nasturtiums and tulip cups filled with orange salad, and everyone would leave the party feeling both jealous and aroused. And if you got her to cater your child's birthday party, she would serve tiny strawberry cupcakes and candied violets and the children would all be well behaved and would take long afternoon naps. Claire had a true magic to her cooking when she used her flowers. ~ Sarah Addison Allen