Crimson Quotes - Page 4

• And somewhere in that crimson-colored never-never land where i pirouetted madly, in a wild and crazy effort to exhaust myself into insensibility, i saw that man, shadowy and distant, half-hidden behind towering white columns that rose clear up to a purple sky. In a passionate pas de deux he danced with me, forever apart, no matter how hard i sought to draw nearer and leap into his arms, where i could feel them protective about me, supporting me ... and with him i'd find, at last, a safe place to live and love.

  Virginia C. Andrews

  Crazy, Men, Land

  Virginia C. Andrews (2004). “Flowers in the Attic”

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• He sat on as the sun's rays came slowly down through the trees, lower and lower, and when the lowest reached a branch not far above him it caught a dewdrop poised upon a leaf. The drop instantly blazed crimson, and a slight movement of his head made it show all the colours of the spectrum with extraordinary purity, from a red almost too deep to be seen through all the others to the ultimate violet and back again.

  Patrick O'Brian

  Tree, Red, Violet

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• When music appears which only King Crimson can play, then, sooner or later, King Crimson appears to play the music.

  Robert Fripp

  Kings, Play, Sooner Or Later

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• The man who fears war and squats opposing
  My words for stour, hath no blood of crimson
  But is fit only to rot in womanish peace

  Ezra Pound

  Fear, War, Men

  Ezra Pound, Richard Sieburth (2010). “New Selected Poems and Translations”, p.11, New Directions Publishing

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• And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart

  Oscar Wilde

  Heart, Sky, Rose

  Oscar Wilde (2007). “The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde”, p.330, Wordsworth Editions

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• The planet Mars -- crimson and bright, filling our telescopes with vague intimations of almost-familiar landforms -- has long formed a celestial tabula rasa on which we have inscribed our planeto-logical theories, utopian fantasies, and fears of alien invasion or ecological ruin.

  David Grinspoon

  Long, Mars, Invasion

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• Then I place the blade next to the skine on my palm. A tingle arced across my scalp. The flood tipped up at me and my body spiraled away. Then I was on the ceiling looking down, waiting to see what would happen next. What happened next was thet a perfect, straight line of blood bloomed from under the blade.The line grow into a long, Fat bubbel, A lush crimson bubbel that got bigger and bigger. I watch from above, waiting to see how big it would get before it burst. when it did, I felt awesome. Satisfied, finally. Then exhausted.

  Patricia McCormick

  Blood, Long, Perfect

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• The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.

  Daphne du Maurier

  Dark, Moon, Blood

  Daphne Du Maurier (2012). “Daphne du Maurier Omnibus 4: Rebecca; My Cousin Rachel”, p.323, Hachette UK

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• You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

  Anna Akhmatova

  Heart, Thinking, Fire

  Anna Andreevna Akhmatova, D. M. Thomas (1985). “You will hear thunder: Akhmatova, poems”, Ohio Univ Pr

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• The average man votes below himself; he votes with half a mind or a hundredth part of one. A man ought to vote with the whole of himself, as he worships or gets married. A man ought to vote with his head and heart, his soul and stomach, his eye for faces and his ear for music; also (when sufficiently provoked) with his hands and feet. If he has ever seen a fine sunset, the crimson color of it should creep into his vote. The question is not so much whether only a minority of the electorate votes. The point is that only a minority of the voter votes.

  Gilbert K. Chesterton

  Sunset, Eye, Heart

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• Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state.

  Thomas Gray

  Kings, Air, Wings

  'The Bard' (1757) l. 1

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• In August, the large masses of berries, which, when in flower, had attracted many wild bees, gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, and by their weight again bent down and broke their tender limbs.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Summer, Flower, August

  Henry David Thoreau (1882). “Walden”, p.179

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• Oh the Broom, the yellow Broom,
  The ancient poet sung it,
  And dear it is on summer days
  To lie at rest among it.
  I know the realms where people say
  The flowers have not their fellow;
  I know where they shine out like suns,
  The crimson and the yellow.
  I know where ladies live enchained
  In luxury's silken fetters,
  And flowers as bright as glittering gems
  Are used for written letters.
  But ne'er was flower so fair as this,
  In modern days or olden;
  It groweth on its nodding stem
  Like to a garland golden.

  Mary Howitt

  Summer, Lying, Flower

  Mary Botham Howitt, “The Broom Flower”

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• Alaska and Montana are not in the south but they definitely form part of the crimson tide of red states where Republicans are dominant.

  Juan Williams

  Alaska, Montana, Red

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• The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
  Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
  And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
  An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
  Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer,
  The childing autumn, angry winter, change
  Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world,
  By their increase, now knows not which is which.

  William Shakespeare

  Summer, Sweet, Spring

  William Shakespeare, R. A. Foakes (2003). “A Midsummer Night's Dream”, p.74, Cambridge University Press

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• Snowflakes swirl down gently in the deep blue haze beyond the window. The outside world is a dream. Inside, the fireplace is brightly lit, and the Yule log crackles with orange and crimson sparks. There’s a steaming mug in your hands, warming your fingers. There’s a friend seated across from you in the cozy chair, warming your heart. There is mystery unfolding.

  Vera Nazarian

  Christmas, Dream, Healing

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• God said,--"Let there be light!"
  Grim darkness felt His might,
  And fled away;
  Then startled seas and mountains cold
  Shone forth, all bright in blue and gold,
  And cried--"'Tis day! 'tis day!"
  "Hail, holy light!" exclaim'd
  The thunderous cloud that flam'd
  O'er daisies white;
  And lo! the rose, in crimson dress'd,
  Lean'd sweetly on the lily's breast;
  And blushing murmur'd--Light!

  Ebenezer Elliott

  Clouds, Light, Blue

  Ebenezer Elliott, Edwin Elliott “The Poetical Works”, Georg Olms Verlag

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• Association is the delight of the heart, not less than of poetry. Alison observes that an autumn sunset, with its crimson clouds, glimmering trunks of trees, and wavering tints upon the grass, seems scarcely capable of embellishment. But if in this calm and beautiful glow the chime of a distant bell steal over the fields, the bosom heaves with the sensation that Dante so tenderly describes.

  Robert Aris Willmott

  Beautiful, Heart, Sunset

  Robert Aris WILLMOTT (1851). “Pleasures,objects and advantages of literature”, p.11

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• The amplest knowledge has the largest faith. Ignorance is always incredulous. Tell an English cottager that the belfries of Swedish churches are crimson, and his own white steeple furnishes him with a contradiction.

  Robert Aris Willmott

  Ignorance, White, Church

  Robert Aris WILLMOTT (1851). “Pleasures,objects and advantages of literature”, p.121

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• Cravats grow higher, as if they mean to protect the throat. The highest cravats in public life will be worn by Citizen Antoine Saint-Just, of the National Convention and the Committee of Public Safety. In the dark and harrowing days of '94, an obscene feminine inversion will appear: a thin crimson ribbon, worn round a bare white neck.

  Hilary Mantel

  Mean, Dark, White

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• In the earlier novels, Steve King tells us that John Farson, and perhaps even the Crimson King himself, are but other names and faces that belong to Walter O'Dim. However, in The Dark Tower, he tells us very clearly that Walter, John Farson, and the Crimson King are actually separate individuals.

  Robin Furth

  Kings, Dark, Names

  Source: www.graphicnovelreporter.com

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• Confined to common life thy numbers flow,
  And neither soar too high nor sink too low;
  There strength and ease in graceful union meet,
  Though polished, subtle, and though poignant, sweet;
  Yet powerful to abash the from of crime
  And crimson error's cheek with sportive rhyme.
  [Lat., Verba togae sequeris, junctura callidus acri,
  Ore teres modico, pallentes radere mores
  Doctus, et ingenuo culpam defigere ludo.]

  Aulus Persius Flaccus

  Sweet, Powerful, Numbers

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• EPITAPH Now I'm not the brightest knife in the drawer, but I know a couple things about this life: poverty silence, impermanence discipline and mystery The world is not illusory, we are From crimson thread to toe tag If you are not disturbed there is something seriously wrong with you, I'm sorry And I know who I am I'll be a voice coming from nowhere, inside-- be glad for me.

  Franz Wright

  Sorry, Couple, Who I Am

  Franz Wright (2009). “Walking to Martha's Vineyard”, p.89, Knopf

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• Emerson, Lake & Palmer or King Crimson or Gentle Giant - the worst prog rock references I can come up with. Though I totally loved those groups as a kid.

  Duncan Sheik

  Kings, Kids, Lakes

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• A Touch of Crimson explodes with passion and heat. A hot, sexy angel to die for and a gutsy heroine make for one exciting read!

  Cheyenne McCray

  Sexy, Angel, Passion

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