Framar Color Quotes

#1. There are good men and bad men of all nationalities, creeds and colors; and if this world of ours is ever to become what we hope some day it may become, it must be by the general recognition that the man's heart and soul, the man's worth and actions, determine his standing. #Quote by Theodore Roosevelt

#2. Dear Heavenly Father,
I have a friend who stands as close as a brother, a brave soul.
I have seen in him the heart of a warrior ...
He is gallant, loyal, and true, sacrificing his esteem, forfeiting his comfort, even spilling his blood.
But, what color is his soul?
My friend has a desperate need, and I have seen it.
How can I be his accuser, condemning the one who has gladly poured out his blood in my stead?
But shall I deny my witness?
There is a darkness, a gnawing void behind those eyes of steel ...
Will you make him a knight, dressed in holy raiment, fit to take a seat at your table? #Quote by Bryan Davis

#3. I try not to worry about other people's music. But if there's one thing that I hear these days, it's that people try and put [music] down so tight that they take all the color out of it. #Quote by Tim McGraw

#4. I can tell right away by looking at you what you want to eat," he says. "I can tell how many brothers and sisters you have."
After divining my favorite color (blue) and my astrological sign (Aquarius), Nakamura pulls out an ivory stalk of takenoko, fresh young bamboo ubiquitous in Japan during the spring. "This came in this morning from Kagumi. It's so sweet that you can eat it raw." He peels off the outer layer, cuts a thin slice, and passes it across the counter.
First, he scores an inch-thick bamboo steak with a ferocious santoku blade. Then he sears it in a dry sauté pan until the flesh softens and the natural sugars form a dark crust on the surface. While the bamboo cooks, he places two sacks of shirako, cod milt, under the broiler. ("Milt," by the way, is a euphemism for sperm. Cod sperm is everywhere in Japan in the winter and early spring, and despite the challenges its name might create for some, it's one of the most delicious things you can eat.)
Nakamura brings it all together on a Meiji-era ceramic plate: caramelized bamboo brushed with soy, broiled cod milt topped with miso made from foraged mountain vegetables, and, for good measure, two lightly boiled fava beans. An edible postcard of spring. I take a bite, drop my chopsticks, and look up to find Nakamura staring right at me.
"See, I told you I know what you want to eat."
The rest of the dinner unfolds in a similar fashion: a little counter banter, a little product display, then back to #Quote by Matt Goulding

#5. In lantern-light My yellow Chrysanthemums Lost all their color #Quote by Yosa Buson

#6. Grey is a colour that always seems on the eve of changing to some other colour. #Quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton

#7. Except… when I looked at Daniel, met a gaze the color of the sky, clear and unclouded, I could hear an echo inside me. And echoes only happened in hollow places. #Quote by Kelly Jensen

#8. Mira moved into the light like a sleepwalker, leaving Blue behind in the dust, the unused room, the past.
She thought of the fabled hundred years that cursed girls like her had slept, and how, after that much time, everything would be covered by a thick blanket of dust, including the princess. The intrepid prince would have to trust that something beautiful was hidden underneath. He'd kiss her and the first color to be revealed would be the chapped pink of her lips.
Her eyes went to Freddie, playing his guitar and lit by the sun. She couldn't picture him kissing a girl coated by dust - he was too alive for that.
He was golden. And she ... she was covered with death, with her grief over her parents. She'd tried to replace them with dreams, and she'd drifted through life in a haze, her eyes seeking ghosts instead of the world around her.
She was already asleep.
She had been for a long time. #Quote by Sarah Cross

#9. He discovered wonderful stories, also, about jewels. In Alphonso's Clericalis Disciplina a serpent was mentioned with eyes of real jacinth, and in the romantic history of Alexander, the Conqueror of Emathia was said to have found in the vale of Jordan snakes 'with collars of real emeralds growing on their backs.' There was a gem in the brain of the dragon, Philostratus told us, and 'by the exhibition of golden letters and a scarlet robe' the monster could be thrown into a magical sleep and slain. According to the great alchemist, Pierre de Boniface, the diamond rendered a man invisible, and the agate of India made him eloquent. The cornelian appeased anger, and the hyacinth provoked sleep, and the amethyst drove away the fumes of wine. The garnet cast out demons, and the hydropicus deprived the moon of her color. The selenite waxed and waned with the moon, and the meloceus, that discovers thieves, could be affected only by the blood of kids. Leonardus Camillus had seen a white stone taken from the brain of a newly killed toad, that was a certain antidote against poison. The bezoar, that was found in the heart of the Arabian deer, was a charm that could cure the plague. In the nests of Arabian birds was the aspirates, that, according to Democritus, kept the wearer from any danger by fire. #Quote by Oscar Wilde

#10. The designer is primarily confronted with three classes of material:
a) the given material: product, copy, slogan, logotype, format,
media, production process; b) the formal material: space, contrast,
proportion, harmony, rhythm, repetition, line, mass, shape, color,
weight, volume, value, texture; c) the psychological material: visual
perception and optical illusion problems, the spectators' instincts,
intuitions, and emotions as well as the designer's own needs. #Quote by Paul Rand

#11. I don't think it's fair - you get married, you give your wife a wedding ring. I think you should give her a mood ring. Oh, it may sound crass, but just check the color when you come home. 'Hi honey. Infernal red? Oh boy, I ain't getting laid, and I gotta cut the lawn, I know it.' #Quote by Adam Ferrara

#12. Until the philosophy which hold one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned ... Everything is war. Me say war. That until the're no longer 1st class and 2nd class citizens of any nation ... Until the color of a man's skin is of no more significa ... nce than the color of his eyes, me say war. That until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all without regard to race me say war! #Quote by Bob Marley

#13. All cultural explorers ... start off from specific roots which color their vision and define the allegiances of the work of art they produce. #Quote by Keorapetse Kgositsile

#14. Blast it! Where is that letter?"
Sophia pulled it from her pocket. "I have it here."
Sir Reginald's voice lifted with amazament. "You took that from me? When we were-"
"Yes," she said, her color high. "I thought you'd sold my jewelry and that the envelope contained the payment. I wanted proof,so I took it."
"By kissing me?"
Outside, lightning cracked.
"You kissed him?" Dougal demanded.
"Only once."
"Actually, it was twice," Sir Reginald said softly.
Dougal punched him, sending the dandy flying into the wall, where he slid to the floor.
"B'God, that's a nice one!" Red cried. "MacLean, I'd like to see you in a real mill."
"Aye," the earl agreed. "He's got a good solid left."
"What do you know about boxing? Red asked rudely.
"I've seen every large match for the last-"
Thunder crashed as lightning sent shards of light flashing into the great hall.
"That's enough," Dougal said firmly, noting Sophia's pale face. #Quote by Karen Hawkins

#15. I ask you and all the leaders of the world: Would you act differently, would you keep silent and do nothing if you were in our place? Would you not resist if you were allowed no rights in your own country because the color of your skin is different to that of the rulers, and if you were punished for even asking for equality? I appeal to you, and through you to all the countries of the world, to do everything you can to stop the coming tragedy. I appeal to you to save the lives of our leaders, to empty the prisons of all those who should never have been there. #Quote by Miriam Makeba

#16. I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don't want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines and sing out loud in the car with the windows open and wear pink shoes and stay up all night laughing and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets and throw parties and eat ripe tomatoes and read books so good they make me jump up and down, and I want my everyday to make God belly laugh, glad that he gave life to someone who loves the gift. #Quote by Shauna Niequist

#17. Slavery was never abolished, it was only extended to include all the colors. #Quote by Charles Bukowski

#18. It is with color that you render light, though you must also feel this light, have it within yourself. #Quote by Henri Matisse

#19. When I pull down the wall, I turn off all the colors, I wash them away. And I need color to paint. I want to paint. I need to paint. #Quote by Amy Harmon

#20. A kid just couldn't see the difference. It was like being color-blind or something, or preferring Frazetta to all those blobby old paintings of haystacks and French people in rowboats. #Quote by Tim Powers

#21. You going to wear black for that funeral?" he asked, looking down at the continent-sized bruise on my arm.
"What are you talking about? Whose funeral?"
"That of your soon-to-be-deceased ex."
"What!? Are you crazy?" I squeaked.
"Well, I suppose black isn't your color of choice, but people will talk if you go there dressed in shocking pink, you know... #Quote by Zoya Tessi

#22. The man that I named the Giver passed along to the boy knowledge, history, memories, color, pain, laughter, love, and truth. Every time you place a book in the hands of a child, you do the same thing. It is very risky. But each time a child opens a book, he pushes open the gate that separates him from Elsewhere. It gives him choices. It gives him freedom. Those are magnificent, wonderfully unsafe things.
[from her Newberry Award acceptance speech] #Quote by Lois Lowry

#23. I love when it's me you look at with that laughter in your eyes. It's reassuring, as if in letting me know my heart also had colors that you enjoy seeing. It makes me sparkle inside; I adore the times we sparkle together ... to me nothing is better than those. #Quote by Stefanie Schneider

#24. As music is the poetry of sound, so is painting the poetry of sight and the subject-matter has nothing to do with harmony of sound or of color. #Quote by James Whistler

#25. I know my face is turning red. I don't want you to interpret it as being embarrassed. It's rage. The color of my face is rage. #Quote by Zach Galifianakis

#26. As the last Seelie left the hall, Roiben, self-declared King of the Unseelie Court, nearly fell into his throne. Kaye tried to smile at him, but he was not looking at her. He was staring out across the brugh with eyes the color of falling ash.
Corny had not stopped laughing. #Quote by Holly Black

#27. Take one famous example: arguments about property destruction after Seattle. Most of these, I think, were really arguments about capitalism. Those who decried window-breaking did so mainly because they wished to appeal to middle-class consumers to move towards global exchange-style green consumerism, and to ally with labor bureaucracies and social democrats abroad. This was not a path designed to provoke a direct confrontation with capitalism, and most of those who urged us to take this route were at least skeptical about the possibility that capitalism could ever really be defeated. Many were in fact in favor of capitalism, if in a significantly humanized form. Those who did break windows, on the other hand, didn't care if they offended suburban homeowners, because they did not figure that suburban homeowners were likely to ever become a significant element in any future revolutionary anticapitalist coalition. They were trying, in effect, to hijack the media to send a message that the system was vulnerable -- hoping to inspire similar insurrectionary acts on the part of those who might be considering entering a genuinely revolutionary alliance; alienated teenagers, oppressed people of color, undocumented workers, rank-and-file laborers impatient with union bureaucrats, the homeless, the unemployed, the criminalized, the radically discontent. If a militant anticapitalist movement was to begin, in America, it would have to start with people like these: people who don't need to #Quote by David Graeber

#28. It was white. White and gold. It was livery.
I told myself it meant nothing. Itwas just a color.
But I was wrong. That color meant everything.
It was a command to the Queen's ladies that they shouldn't greet me or acknowledge that I'd entered a room.
It was an indelible line drawn between me and the other Grisha.
It was a signal to the King that he could follow me into my chambers and press me up against the wall, that I was available for his use.
That there was no point to crying out. #Quote by Leigh Bardugo

#29. The sky was different, without color, taut and unforgiving. But the water was the most unforgiving thing, nearly black at times, cold enough, I knew, to kill me, violent enough to break me apart. The waves were immense, battering rocky beaches without sand. The farther I went, the more desolate it became, more than any place I'd been, but for this very reason the landscape drew me, claimed me as nothing had in a long time. #Quote by Jhumpa Lahiri

#30. I got up and took the cake out from under its cake-shaped cover. I had made it at three o'clock in the morning in a desperate attempt to comfort myself. And it was an enormous comfort, standing alone in the kitchen in my nightgown, sifting fresh ground nutmeg with allspice and cloves by the little light over the sink. I peeled the apples with ridiculous care, taking the skins off in long, even ribbons that spiraled down to the floor without breaking. I didn't think of any of them while I peeled those apples. I didn't work anything out in my mind. I just relaxed into the creaming of butter and sugar, the sweet expansion of every egg. I had hoped the mixer wouldn't wake anyone up.The last thing I had wanted was company.
I cut off big, hulking slices and slid them onto dessert plates. The apples were soft and golden, the cake was a rust color. #Quote by Jeanne Ray

#31. He snatched at the kerchief, managing to loosen it. "Please. It's all I want from life, to see you with-" another swipe, and he snagged the edge of the cloth, "-your hair all-"
But Leo broke off as the kerchief pulled free, and the hair that spilled out was not any conceivable shade of green. It was blond... pale amber and champagne and honey... and there was so much of it, cascading in shimmering waves to the middle of her back.
Leo went still, holding her in place as his astonished gaze raked over her. They both gulped for breath, worked up and winded like racehorses. Marks couldn't have looked more appalled if he had just stripped her naked. And the truth was, Leo couldn't have been any more confounded- or aroused- if he were actually viewing her naked. Though he certainly would have been willing to try it.
Such a commotion had risen in him, Leo hardly knew how to react. Just hair, just locks of hair... but it was like a previously undistinguished painting in the perfect frame, revealing its beauty in full luminous detail. Catherine Marks in the sunlight was a mythical creature, a nymph, with delicate features and opalescent eyes.
The most confounding realization was that it wasn't really hair color that had concealed all this from him... he had never noticed how stunning she was because she had deliberately kept him from seeing it.
"Why," Leo asked, his voice husky, "would you conceal something so beautiful?" Staring at her, nearly devouring her, #Quote by Lisa Kleypas

#32. I called on Dex first. 'Um, yes. We have this friend, Izzy Brannick? She's about your height, has your color hair, and she is a normal, sane-type person. And you, Crazy Lady, seem to have replaced her. Can we have Izzy back now please? #Quote by Rachel Hawkins

#33. The Highest Octaves of Light

Sands, in wild winds of surging waves
Over the desert dunes, sing with the tones
Of tiny pebbles moving all together, a shifting
Of dust grains humming and moaning
Over the growing and diminishing dunes.

His body in the mirror is the color
Of sands. The song he sings in the voice
Of light shining like waves of wind
Passing over his body inside the glass.

The mirror sings with the color of sand
In the highest octaves of light.

Have you ever listened to sands sing
With gold light as they fall in threads
Through the needle-eye opening
At the center of a hour-glass globe?

Why not arrange such globes in rows
Before a window of sun, each globe
A different width, a different height
Of refined or rudimentary glass, clear
Amber rose, a tinted blue of noon sky,
And listen to the chorus?

And then why not turn the globes
Upside down and over again to hear
Sands sing one more time?

The desert dunes are singing, wind-risen
Voices from a primeval earth, haunting,
Pacific, pining and irate. we listen
For the repeating message we remember.
The songs are only tumbling pebble grains;
Their words are only notes of swirling dust,
Sings the eternal light, Emanuel. #Quote by Pattiann Rogers

#34. As a society, we need to get lots more flexible about what constitutes beauty. It isn't a particular hair color or a particular body type; it's the woman who grew the hair and lives in the body. Keeping this in mind can only make things better. (341) #Quote by Victoria Moran

#35. So here we are, in the family planning aisle with a cart full of sports drinks and our hands full of . . . "Trojans, Ramses, Magnum . . . Jeez, these are worse than names for muscle cars," Jase observes, sliding his finger along the display.
"They do sound sorta, well, forceful." I flip over the box I'm holding to read the instructions.
Jase glances up to smile at me. "Don't worry, Sam. It's just us."
"I don't get what half these descriptions mean . . . What's a vibrating ring?"
"Sounds like the part that breaks on the washing machine. What's extra-sensitive? That sounds like how we describe George."
I'm giggling. "Okay, would that be better or worse than 'ultimate feeling' - and look - there's 'shared pleasure' condoms and 'her pleasure' condoms. But there's no 'his pleasure.'"
"I'm pretty sure that comes with the territory," Jase says dryly. "Put down those Technicolor ones. No freaking way."
"But blue's my favorite color," I say, batting my eyelashes at him.
"Put them down. The glow-in-the-dark ones too. Jesus. Why do they even make those?"
"For the visually impaired?" I ask, reshelving the boxes.
We move to the checkout line. "Enjoy the rest of your evening," the clerk calls as we leave.
"Do you think he knew?" I ask.
"You're blushing again," Jase mutters absently. "Did who know what?"
"The sales guy. Why we were buying these?"
A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Of course not. I'm sure it never #Quote by Huntley Fitzpatrick

#36. The Color Purple received four Tony nominations; the play is highly looked at and it's a must see for everyone. I just want to carry on what Jennifer Hudson has done and help the team get to the finish line. #Quote by Heather Headley

#37. Celadon, azure, crimson and amber.
They are beautiful, for sure.
But they have nothing on you.

Even the piano and its shades of melodic sounds.
And even, when I have the chance, Chopin in the park in Paris.
These are some of my fondest memories.

But still it is hard to think of the subtle nuances in the gold of the sun when I see you.
In you there is no viridian, cerulean, venetian, or citrine.

This is not to say that there is no color in you, because there is.
I just have not found the right words to describe you, and somehow,
I feel that I never will. #Quote by Queenbe Monyei

#38. In her whimsical debut author Brynne Barnes celebrates the colors of our world. #Quote by E. B. Lewis

#39. State what you actually see in someone's work first: objects/space/color/directional flow - then content. Interpret. #Quote by Kay WalkingStick

#40. By applauding Robinson, a man did not feel that he was taking a stand on school integration, or on open housing. But for an instant he had accepted Robinson simply as a hometown ball player. To disregard color, even for an instant, is to step away from the old prejudices, the old hatred. That is not a path on which many double back. #Quote by Roger Kahn

#41. Mama's gaze pierced her. As a girl, Minerva had envied her mother's blue eyes. They'd seemed the color of tropical oceans and cloudless skies. But their color had faded over the years since Papa's death. Now their blue was the hue of dyed cambric worn three seasons. Or brittle middle-class china. The color of patience nearly worn through. #Quote by Tessa Dare