When I die, I want to be buried in a long long-sleeve black Ralph Lauren dress and brown chunky boots. I want my hair styled like his models, long hair that flows. I also want natural makeup with a light pink lip.
It's like America has a dog that's always shitting inside the house, and we solved the problem by getting a brown rug.
The spring rains woke the dormant tillers, and bright green shoots sprang from the moist earth and rose like sleepers stretching after a long nap. As spring gave way to summer, the bright green stalks darkened, became tan, turned golden brown. The days grew long and hot. Thick towers of swirling black clouds brought rain, and the brown stems glistened in the perpetual twilight that dwelled beneath the canopy. The wheat rose and the ripening heads bent in the prairie wind, a rippling curtain, an endless, undulating sea that stretched to the horizon.
The insanely gorgeous competition documentary on surfing obsession, Step Into Liquid — directed by Dana Brown and photographed by John-Paul Beeghly in hypnotic gradations of aquamarine — will send you into a dream state.
I just try to stick to clean foods, anything grilled like salmon, chicken, fish, brown rice, and veggies. I do have a really big sweet tooth, so I try to curb my cravings with fruit instead.
I know my Easts and Tom Brown, you see, and they're never happy unless their morality is being tried in the furnace and they can feel they are doing the right Christian thing and never mind the consequences to anyone else.
Grilled salmon and brown pasta works for me every time.
[Jerry Brown] is California's way of celebrating the Year of the Child.
One modest suggestion for my friends in the academic community: the next time a mob of students, waving their non-negotiable demands, starts pitching bricks and rocks at the student union- just imagine they are wearing brown shirts or white sheets- and act accordingly.
In 2001 we didn't have all the talent in the world, we just had me on offense and just a bunch of tough ass dudes, and a great coach in Larry Brown.
Nothing feels as awful as pouring your heart out to some talk therapist, then realizing this so-called professional is actually vastly stupid and you've just professed your most secret secrets to some goon who's wearing one brown sock and one blue sock.
As far as R&B, I listen to a lot of old school like the Temptations and Chris Brown.
One of my first big shows, I opened up for Chris Brown; I was about 10 years old, and Chris Brown was just big; he still is one of my idols now.
My favorite healthy foods are Jamaican chicken soup, Jamaican chicken stew peas, Jamaican brown stew chicken, plantains and banana chips.
David Cameron has a different style to Gordon Brown.
I remember that Charles Schulz, at the end of his life, had eyes full of tears for Charlie Brown. I thought about the reason for all his emotion: he had lived for 50 years with them.
Clothes are nothing more than a fig leaf. And the bodies beneath are just another layer of clothing, an outfit of flesh with an impractically thin leather exterior, in various shades of pink, yellow and brown. The souls alone are real. Seen in this way, there can never be any such thing as social unease or shyness or embarrassment. All you need do is greet your fellow soul.
In American Romances, her new book of essays, Rebecca Brown has a voice that is full of pop references, family stories, and the fruits of a lifetime of -- in her perfect phrase - extreme reading. The voice is a hoot, and it is dead serious. This is writing with exquisite control, fully up to the task Brown takes on of playing a fierce game of beach ball with deep problems of American (and personal) history and identity.
My uncle was the first brown person to have a market stall on Petticoat Lane in the 1960s. He worked his way up from the street. He was homeless, but eventually he got a car so he could sell from the boot. And by the 1980s, he was a millionaire wholesaling to companies like Topshop. So in a way, fashion put me in England.
Kindness. The only possible method when dealing with a living creature. You'll get nowhere with an animal if you use terror, no matter what its level of development may be. That I have maintained, do maintain and always will maintain. People who think you can use terror are quite wrong. No, no, terror is useless, whatever its colour – white, red or even brown! Terror completely paralyses the nervous system.
Every spirit passing through the world fingers the tangible and mars the mutable and finally has come to look and not to buy. So shoes are worn and hassocks are sat upon and finally everything is left where it was and the spirit passes on, just as the wind in the orchard picks up the leaves from the ground as if there were no other pleasure in the world but brown leaves, as if it would deck, clothe, flesh itself in flourishes of dusty brown apple leaves and then drops them all in a heap at the side of the house and goes on.
The brown paper bag is the only thing civilized man has produced that does not seem out of place in nature.
I believe in recognizing every human being as a human being--neither white, black, brown, or red; and when you are dealing with humanity as a family there's no question of integration or intermarriage. It's just one human being marrying another human being or one human being living around and with another human being.
As he drank, little brown drops of coffee clung to his mustache like dew. Men will live like billy goats if they are let alone.
From barren brown stems to glistening leaf-buds; from the leaf-buds to snowy virginity of bloom…It was like a flute song forgotten in another existence and remembered again. What? How? Why? This singing she heard that had nothing to do with her ears. The rose of the world was breathing out smell. It followed her through all her waking moments and caressed her in her sleep.
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