Blue Quotes - Page 21

• Those blue eyes glinted with uncivilized suggestion. A faint smile was tucked in the corner of his wide mouth. Definitely wouldn't want to be alone in a room with that guy, I thought. His gaze moved downward in lazy inspection, returned to my face, and he gave me one of those respectful nods that Texan men had raised to an art form.

  Lisa Kleypas

  Art, Eye, Men

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• Everything in the world is beautiful, but Man only recognizes beauty if he sees it either seldom or from afar. Listen, today we are gods! Our blue shadows are enormous! We move in a gigantic, joyful world!

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Beauty, Beautiful, Moving

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• As long as skies are blue, and fields are green Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow, Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Night, Years, Sky

  Percy Bysshe Shelley (1830). “The Beauties of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Consisting of Miscellaneous Selections from His Poetical Works. The Entire Poems of Adonais and Alastor, and a Revised Edition of Queen Mab, Free from All the Objectionable Passages. With a Biographical Preface”, p.214

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• It was the kind of pure, undiffused light that can only come from a really hot blue sky, the kind that makes even a concrete highway painful to behold and turns every distant reflective surface into a little glint of flame. Do you know how sometimes on very fine days the sun will shine with a particular intensity that makes the most mundane objects in the landscape glow with an unusual radiance, so that buildings and structures you normally pass without a glance suddenly become arresting, even beautiful? Well, they seem to have that light in Australia nearly all the time.

  Bill Bryson

  Beautiful, Australia, Light

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• Blue as the evening sky, blue as cranesbill flowers, blue as the lips of drowned men and the heart of a blaze burning with too hot a flame. Yes, sometimes it was hot in this world, too. Hot and cold, light and dark, terrible and beautiful, it was everything all at once. It wasn't true that you felt nothing in the land of Death. You felt and heard and smelled and saw, but your heart remained strangely calm, as if it were resting before the dance began again. Peace. Was that the word?

  Cornelia Funke

  Beautiful, Flower, Heart

  Cornelia Funke (2011). “Inkdeath”, p.230, Scholastic Inc.

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• His eldest sister (who modestly prefers to be identified here as a Tuckahoe homemaker) has asked me to describe him as looking like 'the blue-eyed Jewish-Irish Mohican scout who died in your arms at the roulette table at Monte Carlo.

  J. D. Salinger

  Roulette, Tables, Arms

  j.d. salinger (1961). “franny and zooey”

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• How not to imagine the tumors ripening beneath his skin, flesh I have kissed, stroked with my fingertips, pressed my belly and breasts against, some nights so hard I thought I could enter him, open his back at the spine like a door or a curtain and slip in like a small fish between his ribs, nudge the coral of his brains with my lips, brushing over the blue coil of his bowels with the fluted silk of my tail.

  Dorianne Laux

  Night, Doors, Brain

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• I let my head fall back, and I gazed into the Eternal Blue Sky. It was morning. Some of the sky was yellow, some the softest blue. One small cloud scuttled along. Strange how everything below can be such death and chaos and pain while above the sky is peace, sweet blue gentleness. I heard a shaman say once, the Ancestors want our souls to be like the blue sky.

  Shannon Hale

  Sweet, Morning, Pain

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• The last time I wore an animal hide; but this time I settled for this." Eric had been wearing a long trench coat. Now he threw it off dramatically, and I could only stand and stare. Normally, Eric was a blue-jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy. Tonight, he wore a pink tank top and Lycra leggings[...]They were pink and aqua, like the swirls down the side of Jason's truck.

  Charlaine Harris

  Animal, Aqua, Jeans

  Charlaine Harris (2009). “Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set”, p.501, Penguin

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• However in the world did her skin come green?" Nanny wondered, stupidly, for Melena blanched and Frex reddened, and the baby held her breath as if trying to turn blue to please them all. Nanny had to slap her to make her breath again.

  Gregory Maguire

  Baby, Skins, Trying

  Gregory Maguire (2013). “The Wicked Years Complete Collection: Wicked, Son of a Witch, A Lion Among Men, and Out of Oz”, p.39, Harper Collins

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• The road was frozen. The village lay quiet under the cold sky. Komako hitched up the skirt of her kimono and tucked it into her obi. The moon shone like a blade frozen in blue ice.

  Yasunari Kawabata

  Moon, Ice, Sky

  Yasunari Kawabata (2013). “Snow Country”, p.77, Vintage

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• There are brown eyes in the world, after all, as well as blue, and one pair of brown that meant heaven to me as the blue had never done

  E. Nesbit

  Eye, Heaven, Done

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• So to the wretched writer I should like to say that there’s one body only whose request for your caresses is not vulgar, is not unchaste, untoward, or impolite: the body of your work itself; for you must remember that your attentions will not merely celebrate a beauty but create one; that yours is love that brings it own birth with it, just as Plato has declared, and that you should therefore give up the blue things of this world in favor of the words which say them

  William H. Gass

  Plato, Giving Up, Writing

  William H. Gass (2014). “On Being Blue: A Philosophical Inquiry”, p.89, New York Review of Books

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• Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children's faces looking up, Holding wonder like a cup. Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms that hold, And for your spirit's still delight, Holy thoughts that star the night. Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be.

  Sara Teasdale

  Life, Beautiful, Stars

  Sara Teasdale, William Drake (1984). “Mirror of the Heart: Poems of Sara Teasdale”, MacMillan Publishing Company

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• His blue-black hair fell over his face when he moved, like tiny arrows pointing to pronounced cheeckbones. "Starting to think you were going to bail on me." "Didn't know you were expecting me," she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. He gets sexier every day. "Not Expecting, but hoping. Always hoping

  Melissa Marr

  Thinking, Hair, Voice

  Melissa Marr (2011). “Wicked Lovely with Bonus Material”, p.24, Harper Collins

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• The empty blue sky of space says 'All this comes back to me, then goes again, and comes back again, then goes again, and I don't care, it still belongs to me

  Jack Kerouac

  Wisdom, Sky, Space

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• He stepped back and threw his arms out. "I'm always crazy around you Rose. Here, I'm going to write an impromptu poem for you." He tipped his head back and shouted to the sky: "Rose is in red But never in blue Sharp as a thorn Fights like one too.

  Richelle Mead

  Crazy, Writing, Fighting

  Richelle Mead (2013). “Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection”, p.404, Penguin

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• The vestibule door opens onto a June morning so fine and scrubbed Classira pauses at the threshold as she would at the edge of a pool, watching the turquoise water lapping at the tiles, the liquid nets of sun wavering in the blue depths. As if standing at the edge of a pool she delays for a moment the plunge, the quick membrane of chill, the plain shock of immersion.

  Michael Cunningham

  Morning, June, Doors

  Michael Cunningham (1998). “The Hours: A Novel”, p.9, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux

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• Like all the other arrivals to the tournament, Hank had erected a banner in front. It was a long, tapering pennant with a blue and red circular design in the center and the words GO CUBS! on both sides. Interesting," said Hugo. "What does it mean?" It was a gift from Sam," Hank explained as they entered the tent. "He said it used to represent Triumph over Adversity, but now better represents Impossible Quests and Lost Causes." I think I preferred not knowing that," said Hugo. Hank grinned. "You're a Sox fan too, hey?

  James A. Owen

  Mean, Adversity, Thinking

  James A. Owen (2010). “The Indigo King”, p.200, Simon and Schuster

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• So when the blue smoke of brittle leaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on the line I decided to come back home.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Home, Air, Wind

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2013). “The Great Gatsby”, p.136, Atlântico Press

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• Just as blueprints don't necessarily specify blue buildings, selfish genes don't necessarily specify selfish organisms. As we shall see, sometimes the most selfish thing a gene can do is build a selfless brain. Genes are a play within a play, not the interior monologue of the players.

  Steven Pinker

  Selfish, Player, Brain

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• Maybe i would become a mermaid... i would live in the swirling blue-green currents, doing exotic underwater dances for the fish, kissed by sea anemones, caressed by seaweed shawls. I would have a doliphin friend. He would have merry eyes and thick flesh of a god. My fingernails would be tiny shells and my skin would be like jade with light shining through it I would never have to come back up

  Francesca Lia Block

  Eye, Light, Sea

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• She took refuge on the firm ground of fiction, through which indeed there curled the blue river of truth.

  Henry James

  Rivers, Fiction, Firm

  Henry James (2016). “What Maisie Knew: American Literature”, p.15, 谷月社

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• For a long time I believed the opposite of passion was death. I was wrong. Passion and death are implicit, one in the other. Past the border of a fiery life lies the netherworld. I can trace this road, which took me through places so hot the very air burned the lungs. I did not turn back. I pressed on, and eventually passed over the border, beyond which lies a place that is wordless and cold, so cold that it, like mercury, burns a freezing blue flame.

  Marya Hornbacher

  Lying, Passion, Past

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• White pill, blue pill, yellow pill, purple pill; its like swallowing a rainbow every bedtime.

  Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  Purple, Yellow, White

  Amelia Atwater-Rhodes (2008). “Persistence of Memory”, p.19, Delacorte Press

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