The Orange Girl Quotes

I no longer feel the need to see and sense more than I've already experienced. I just want so desperately to hang on what I have. ~ Jostein Gaarder

Although I've always been easily led by my imagination, I was, and I remain, a rational person. ~ Jostein Gaarder

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

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

Why is it called tierra and not tierro? Why is it round, like two breasts sewn together, like the two halves of an orange - a naranja - or the belly of a pregnant woman, and has never had any phallic tendencies, even while it was first forming? Why do we say naturaleza, in the feminine, and not naturalezo? Why did the old poets prefer to write la mar and not el mar, the way most people do today? Why is it la noche, night, la madrugada, dawn, la soledad, solitude, la ternura, tenderness, la felicidad, happiness, la luz, light, la luna, the moon, las constelaciones, the constellations, la voz, a person's voice, las caricias, caresses, las flores, flowers, la melancolía, melancholy? Why would it seem that the really poetic words are in the feminine? But that's nonsense. Mentira, lie, is feminine, and that's not so poetic. And there are lots of poetic words that are masculine: el cielo, the sky, el alba, another word for dawn, el misterio, mystery, el desea, desire, el parto, childbirth, el bien, good as opposed to evil. And speaking of evil, that's masculine in gender, el mal, and so is power, el poder. Although we shouldn't forget el querer, loving, a word that belongs to the strategy of desire. And also has a little bit of goodness in it. Bondad, goodness, is a very pretty word, and very feminine - it's conjugated in the feminine. On the other hand, muerte, death, which is feminine, no matter how she gets herself up to look attractive and profound, could she ever seduce anyone ~ Zoé Valdés

Apologies don't even mean as much as just…just acknowledging that you fucked up, hurt people, and that you don't wanna do that anymore. Not to yourself either. That's sometimes the hardest part. ~ Tommy Orange

There was a noise out back and Megan stalked to the end of the hall to look out the window. The door to the shed was just closing.
Finn.
He was just as bad as his brother. Finn had stranded her that morning too and he hadn't said a word to her about Spanish class, even though he never would have passed that pop quiz they had taken without her help. Megan turned and stormed down the hallway. Maybe she was too scared to say anything to Evan, but Finn…she was going to give that boy a piece of her mind.
"You guys all suck, you know that?" Megan shouted, flinging open the door to the shed.
Finn dropped his paintbrush on the leg of his jeans, where it left a streak of orange before hitting the dirty floor.
"Sorry?" he said.
"You! You suck!" Megan fumed.
"We've been over this. I know I suck."
"Not your art. You! You…guys!" Megan shouted.
Finn blinked. "Actually, I think I'm kind of an okay guy."
"Oh, please!" Megan said, squaring off in front of him. "I mean, what's wrong with you people? Were you all born like this? Because it's gotta be in your genes. Either that or you've all gotten each other in one too many choke holds over the years and you've deprived your brains of too much oxygen. Which is it?"
"Megan, I think you need to sit down," Finn said, carefully reaching for her shoulders. Keeping her at arm's length, he steered her over to the old bench and pushed her down until she had to let her knees go and fall into the sea ~ Kate Brian

A second red-orange spearhead leaps straight at O'Shaughnessy. The whole world seems to stand still. Then the gun behind it crashes, and there's a cataclysm of pain all over him, and a shock goes through him as if he ran head-on into a stone wall.
A voice from the car says blurredly, while the ground rushes up to meet him, 'Finish him up, you guys! I'm getting so I don't trust their looks no more, no matter how stiff they act!' ("Jane Brown's Body") ~ Cornell Woolrich

Mark held up his plastic bag. Inside it, a small orange fish swam around in a circle. "This is the best patrol we've ever done," he said. "I have never been awarded a fish before. ~ Cassandra Clare

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

I dressed in another high school special from my closet: a long, shapeless floral dress with about twenty buttons down the front. Maybe that doesn't sound too bad, but let me assure you, it looked like the polar opposite of terrific once I'd tied my orange sneakers on. I looked like the least favorite wife of a cult leader. ~ Maia Chance

According to Yiannis' sister Irini, who had trained as a hairdresser in London, the British spent their long winters in grey and black, and this was why they chose such gaudy colours for the summer: turquoise with blue, orange with pink, mauve with indigo. Colours that didn't go well with the bleached hair of the women and the reddish flush of tans that resulted from too great a greediness for the sun, as if Mother Nature, who hated to be hurried, had imprinted her exasperation on their skin. ~ Alison Fell

The movies I cannot go without and that I watch annually are 'A Clockwork Orange,' 'Scarface' and 'Fantasia.' ~ Nicolas Cage

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

Quinces are ripe...when they are the yellow of canary wings in midflight. they are ripe when their scent teases you with the snap of green apples and the perfumed embrace of coral roses. but even then quinces remain a fruit, hard and obstinate--useless...until they are simmered, coddled for hours above a low, steady flame. add honey and water and watch their dry, bone-colored flesh soak-up the heat, coating itself in an opulent orange, not of the sunrises that you never see but of the insides of tree-ripened papayas, a color you can taste. to answer your question__love is not a bowl of quinces yellowing in a blue and white china bowl, seen but untouched__. ~The Book of Salt ~ Monique Truong

The only item that stood out was a pair of orange Crocs I bought one day when I was feeling particularly jaunty. I had a special distaste for these shoes, because I was 76 percent sure that I was dumped as a result of once wearing them. ~ Charles McDowell

When he was four years old, his father had brought him home a tin box from the penitentiary. It was orange and had a picture of some peanut brittle on the outside of it and green letters that said, "A NUTTY SURPRISE!" When Enoch had opened it, a coiled piece of steel had sprung out at him and broken off the ends of his two front teeth. His life was full of so many happenings like that that it would seem he should have been more sensitive to his times of danger. ~ Flannery O'Connor

My English teacher has no face. She has uncombed stringy hair that droops on her shoulders. The hair is black from her part to her ears and then neon orange to the frizzy ends. I can't decide if she had pissed off her hairdresser or is morphing into a monarch butterfly. I call her Hairwoman. ~ Laurie Halse Anderson

More recently, during a debate in the House of Lords in 1978 one of the members said: "If there is a more hideous language on the face of the earth than the American form of English, I should like to know what it is." (We should perhaps bear in mind that the House of Lords is a largely powerless, nonelective institution. It is an arresting fact of British political life that a Briton can enjoy a national platform and exalted status because he is the residue of an illicit coupling 300 years before between a monarch and an orange seller.) ~ Bill Bryson

I can no longer cry. I groan a few times. Through the slits that are my eyes, I stare at my shoes, at the gray swirls of the concrete floor, at the bright orange lid of my syringe. And I realize - it's a kind of horror - that this is my life.
And I can't stop. I just can't stop. I can't stop anymore. ~ Luke Davies

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

I just ... tell me something true about you."
"I own a pair of bell-bottoms," he confessed. "And an orange disco shirt."
"I don't believe you. You must wear it, then, next time I see you."
"I couldn't," the Gray Man said, amused. "I'd have to change my name to Mr. Orange. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

GEORGE AND MARLEE UP IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! We stopped. There was a kid over there, standing by a hackberry bush. I'd never seen him before, not at Mary Day or anywhere else. He wasn't but four and a half feet tall, and stocky. He had on gray shorts that went down all the way to his knees, and a green sweater with orange stripes. It was rounded out up top with little boy-tits and a poochy belly underneath. He had a beanie on his head, the stupid kind with a plastic propeller. His ~ Stephen King

Who in the rainbow can draw the line where the violet tint ends and the orange tint begins? Distinctly we see the difference of the colors, but where exactly does the one first blendingly enter into the other? So with sanity and insanity. ~ Herman Melville

In the silence of the ticking of the clock's minute hand, I found you. In the echoes of the reverberations of time, I found you. In the tender silence of the long summer night, I found you. In the fragrance of the rose petals, I found you. In the orange of the sunset, I found you. In the blue of the morning sky, I found you. In the echoes of the mountains, I found you. In the green of the valleys, I found you. In the chaos of this world, I found you. In the turbulence of the oceans, I found you. In the shrill cries of the grasshopper at night, I found you. In the gossamer sublimity of the silken cobweb, I found you. ~ Avijeet Das

There was some rustling as the gown was cast over the soprano's shoulders, or so Lina assumed, and then the alto and Madame Rocque started cooing.
But the soprano cut through it decisively. 'I look like an orange without its rind,' she said firmly. ~ Eloisa James

It is the first day because it has never been before and the last day because it will never be again. Be alive, if you can, all through this day - today - of your life. What's to be done? What's to be done? Follow your feet. Put on the coffee. Start the orange juice, the bacon, the toast. Then go wake up your children and your spouse. Think about the work of your hands. Live in the needs of the day. ~ Frederick Buechner

Now she took a close look at me for the first time, puffing on her pipe while the old woman beside her sighed. I didnt feel I could look at Mother directly, but I had the impression of smoke seeping out of her face like steam from a crack in the earth. I was so curious about her that my eyes took on a life of their own and began to dart about. The more I saw of her, the more fascinated I became. Her kimono was yellow, with willowy branches bearing lovely green and orange leaves; it was made of silk gauze as delicate as a spiders web. Her obi was every bit as astonishing to me. It was a lovely gauzy texture too, but heavier-looking, in russet and brown with gold threads woven through. The more I looked at her clothing, the less I was aware of standing there in that dirt corridor, or of wondering what had become of my sister and my mother and father and what would become of me. ~ Arthur Golden

I looked at her. She wore a very tight and tiny two-piece orange bathing swimsuit that inadequately covered the overplump body I'd been using as a forget-yourself machine. ~ Gil Brewer

You think you're going to impress an American jury with [your] words? In the eyes of the Americans, you're doomed. Just looking at you in an orange suit, chains, and being Muslim and Arabic is enough to convict you. ~ Mohamedou Ould Slahi

Climbing mattered. The danger bathed the world in a halogen glow that caused everything - the sweep of the rock, the orange and yellow lichens, the texture of the clouds - to stand out in brilliant relief. Life thrummed at a higher pitch. The world was made real. ~ Jon Krakauer

I'd rather spend $200 a month to board a horse I only ride once or twice a month than to pay the same price to talk to a psychiatrist. ~ Jerry Orange

When the sun went down, and touches of blue filtered into the fading afterglow, an orange lamp would light up in the knob of the bell and slowly begin to revolve. The beacon always pinpointed the onset of nightfall exactly. Against the most gorgeous sunsets or in dim drizzling mist, the beacon was ever true to its appointed moment: that precise instant in the alchemy of light and dark when darkness tipped the scales. ~ Haruki Murakami

I first saw the site for Disneyland back in 1953, In those days it was all flat land - no rivers, no mountains, no castles or rocket ships - just orange groves, and a few acres of walnut trees. ~ Walt Disney

She tore a page from the book and ripped it in half.
Then a chapter.
Soon, there was nothing but scraps of words littered between her legs and all around her. The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this. Without words, the Führer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or wordly tricks to make us feel better.
What good were the words?
She said it audibly now, to the orange-lit room. "What good are the words? ~ Markus Zusak

By day I taught Sahjara, who brought me unceasing small presents ranging from orange flower cakes to bouquets of jolly red berries; by night, I imagined my employer making the sort of inappropriate advances which would have made most governesses flee the estate forthwith, and in graphic detail, complete with bare thighs and calloused fingers and the diagonal notches which rest so sweetly above the hipbones when a gentleman is in training, as I had no doubt whatsoever Mr. Thornfield was. ~ Lyndsay Faye

They took everything and ground it down to dust as fine as gunpowder, they fired their guns into the air in victory and the strays flew out into the nothingness of histories written wrong and meant to be forgotten. Stray bullets and consequences are landing on our unsuspecting bodies even now. ~ Tommy Orange

I like the beaches in Orange County the best. I think Orange County has great beaches. Everything from Dana Point to Newport to Laguna; all over the place. ~ Mark Hoppus

The woods were deserted that day.
The stones stood still and silent, as though they were waiting for something. At the center of them all, a jagged piece of amber glowed in the growing darkness. Lights fizzed softly around it, turning pink, orange, purple, blue.
No one saw it. No one ever did. Why would they? No one knoew about its magic, not anymore. They had forgotten all about such magic a long, long time ago. About the same time they stopped believing in faries.
How foolish. ~ Liz Kessler

Why do I have to be a pumpkin? This is discrimination,' Lottie moaned, hardly able to lift her arms from beneath the inflated orange suit. ~ Connie Glynn

Culture is a vulture but there's also vulture culture and cultured vultures and cultured yougurt (cherry, peach, pear, pineapple, grape, vanilla, plain, cherry vanilla, pineapple orage, cranberry, orange, mandarin orange, coffee, apricot, raspberry, blueberry, boysenberry, prune). And speaking of vulture culture there's counter-culture and under-the-counter culture, too. But whether you call it kulchur with a k and a ch and without the e it's still the same thing and you can't disguise it with pretty frills and a gallon of dog sweat. It still has two syllables and TWO-SYLLABLE WORDS SUCK so you can just forgetit, man. It's no fun at all and even fun wouldn't be fun if it was called funjure or funion or funching. But somehow fucking is still loads of fun even though there's that extra 3-letter cluster of vowels and consonants. Proof positive that there are exceptions everywhere you look. But don't look too hard, you might get eyestrain. ~ Richard Meltzer

It wasn't gloom at all, really. There were lights and colors. If it hadn't been for the feel of the water gliding by against his skin he might have imagined himself up in the sky, with meteors and comets blazing past. But these were sea-things, shining in the dark, the luminous life that blazes beneath the southern sea.

First he'd see a tiny twinkling speck, like a star, and it might have been next to his face or a mile away, in that immense, featureless void, with its faint hint of green. It would grow larger. It would turn into a radiant sun of purple or crimson or orange and come rushing at him, and swerve aside at the last moment. There were sinuous ribbons of fire that coiled into bright patterns, and there were schools of tiny fish that flashed by like sparks. Down below, in the deeper abyss, the colors were paler, and once an enormous shape blundered past down there, like the sea-bottom itself moving heavily. Pete watched awhile and then swam up.

("Before I Wake...") ~ Henry Kuttner

Do you know what the foundation of mathematics is?" I ask. "The foundation of
mathematics is numbers. If anyone asked me what makes me truly happy, I would
say: numbers. Snow and ice and numbers. And do you know why?"
He splits the claws with a nutcracker and pulls out the meat with curved tweezers.
"Because the number system is like human life. First you have the natural numbers.
The ones that are whole and positive. The numbers of a small child. But human
consciousness expands. The child discovers a sense of longing, and do you know
what the mathematical expression is for longing?"
He adds cream and several drops of orange juice to the soup.
"The negative numbers. The formalization of the feeling that you are missing
something. And human consciousness expands and grows even more, and the child
discovers the in between spaces. Between stones, between pieces of moss on the
stones, between people. And between numbers. And do you know what that leads
to? It leads to fractions. Whole numbers plus fractions produce rational numbers.
And human consciousness doesn't stop there. It wants to go beyond reason. It adds
an operation as absurd as the extraction of roots. And produces irrational numbers."
He warms French bread in the oven and fills the pepper mill.
"It's a form of madness.' Because the irrational numbers are infinite. They can't be
written down. They force human consciousness out bey ~ Peter Høeg

The setting sun threatened to consume me - it could have, you know. It would have been a beautiful death with an honorable eulogy: slain by a magnificent slice of piercing orange energy. I simply turned and walked away; I would live another day. ~ Chila Woychik

One of the marvels of evolution is the Asian giant hornet, a predatory wasp especially common in Japan. It's hard to imagine a more frightening insect. The world's largest hornet, it's as long as your thumb, with a two-inch body bedecked with menacing orange and black stripes. It's armed with fearsome jaws to clasp and kill its insect prey, and a quarter-inch stinger that proves lethal to several dozen Asians a year. And with a three-inch wingspan, it can fly twenty-five miles per hour (far faster than you can run), and can cover sixty miles in a single day. ~ Jerry A. Coyne

I have one of the most beautiful places in the world in Orange County. That's a great place to live. ~ Thomas Dooley

The tragedy of it all will be unspeakable, the fact we've been fighting for decades to be recognized as a present-tense people, modern and relevant, alive, only to die in the grass wearing feathers. ~ Tommy Orange

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

Good morning, good morning, good morning," Loki chirped, wheeling in a table covered with silver domes.
"What are you doing?" I asked, squinting at him. He'd pulled up the shades. I was tired a hell, and I was not happy.
"I thought you two lovebirds would like breakfast," Loki said. "So I had the chef whip you up something fantastic." As he set up the table in the sitting area, he looked over at us. "Although you two are sleeping awfully far apart for newly weds."
"Oh my god." I groaned and pulled the covers over my head.
"You know, I think you're being a dick," Tove told him as he got out of bed. "But I'm starving. So I'm willing to overlook it. This time."
"A dick?" Loki pretended to be offended. "I'm merely worried about your health. If your bodies aren't used to strenous activities, like a long night of love making, you could waste away if you don't get plenty of protein and rehydrate. I'm concerned for you."
"Yes we both believe that's why you're here," Tove said sarcastically and took a glass of orange juice that Loki had just poured for him.
"What about you princess?" Loki's gaze cut to me as he filled another glass.
"I'm not hungry."I sighed and sat up.
"Oh really?" Loki arched an eyebrow. "Does that mean that last night-"
"It means last night is none of your business," I snapped. ~ Amanda Hocking

When Kestrel opened her eyes, she was lying in her bed. Someone had built a fire, which sent ripples of orange light over the ceiling. An oil lamp burned on the night table, casting her father's face into extremes of shadow and bone. He had drawn a chair close and perhaps had been sleeping in it, but his eyes were alert.
"Your knee needs to be tapped," he said.
She looked at it. Someone--her father?--had cut away the right legging at her thigh, and below the sheared black cloth her knee was swollen to twice its normal size. It felt tight and hot.
"I don't know what that means," Kestrel said, "but it doesn't sound very nice."
"Irex dislocated your kneecap. It slipped back into place, but the blow must have torn your muscle. Your knee's filling with blood. That's what's causing you so much pain: the swelling." He hesitated. "I have some experience with this kind of wound, on the battlefield. I can drain it. You'll feel better. But I would have to use a knife."
Kestrel remembered him cutting her mother's arm, blood weaving through his fingers as he tried to close the wound. He looked at her now, and she thought that he was seeing the same thing, or seeing Kestrel remember it, and that they were mirroring each other's nightmare.
His gaze fell to his scarred hands. "I've sent for a doctor. You can wait until she comes, if you prefer." His voice was flat, yet there was a small, sad note that probably only she would have heard. "I wouldn't suggest this ~ Marie Rutkoski

A heartbeat later a single pair of orange eyes rose from the darkened depths. Dim at first, then in full brightness of attention they moved up from the floor then glided toward here, drawing closer and closer. She staggered back in horror as they moved nearer still, staring into hers, piercing her soul. ~ Marcha A. Fox