It was a light which gave solidity to everything and drew colour out from the heart of objects.
Pink colors my world red!
(n.) See Color.
I may be deaf to the sounds of the world, but you have shown me how I can hear by seeing the color in your smile and feeling the touch of your hand in mine.
The colour of the skin is in no way connected with strength of the mind or intellectual powers.
Was it the case that colours dimmed as the eye grew elderly? Or was it rather that in youth your excitement about the world transferred itself onto everything you saw and made it brighter?
A sunset will color your dreams.And a sunrise will color your smile.It's all God asks.
There wouldn't be life without colour.
In keeping with your policy of bringing Pollution the latest in death and violence, and in living colour, there’s going to be something entirely different… death without remediation.
Ill-fitted T-shirts stretched over a gut are my pet hate. And if the colour's faded - ugh.
When we think of love,we always think of red,but when I think of love,I think of you instead.
We are all different in every individual person. But from here I ask myself what do they see when I see a car which is red, what colour do they see, do they see also red and is the same colour which I...
Let me, O let me bathe my soul in colours; let me swallow the sunset and drink the rainbow.
Black Is The Most Beautiful colour because it does not reflect it absorbs all into itself.
Pink is my favourite colour. I used to say my favourite colour was black to be cool, but it is pink - all shades of pink. If I have an accessory, it is probably pink.
When the color goes out of your soul, you are left with an empty heart.
Someone asked me, what colour were those two years of living in Korea? I thought about it for a long time. There was no colour, I don't know what colour hard work is.
I hear the question upon your lips: What is it to be a colour?Colour is the touch of the eye, music to the deaf, a word out of the darkness. Because I’ve listened to souls whispering – like the susurr...
Who cares what colour your hair or what shape your shape is? Who cares what religion your religion or what language your language is? What is the colour of your heart? That is all that matters!
The phrase and the day and the scene harmonized in a chord. Words. Was it their colours? He allowed them to glow and fade, hue after hue: sunrise gold, the russet and green of apple orchards, azure of...
One should be a painter. As a writer, I feel the beauty, which is almost entirely colour, very subtle, very changeable, running over my pen, as if you poured a large jug of champagne over a hairpin.