You can’t colour your world with someone’s paint.
If you’re to choose to paint your life today… What will it be? Remember, you’re the artist, not the canvas.
Mere color, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways.
He just wanted to stand close to her, touch her hair that was white as glacier milk…
It was so-oh, I wish language were more precise! The red was so beautiful!
On and on they flew, over the countryside parceled out in patches of green and brown, over roads and rivers winding through the landscapes like strips of matte and glossy ribbon.
Her fingers moved among barnacles and mussels, blue-black, sharp-edged. Neon red starfish were limp Dalis on the rocks, surrounded by bouquets of stinging anemones and purple bursts of spiny sea urchins.
Fall colors are funny. They’re so bright and intense and beautiful. It’s like nature is trying to fill you up with color, to saturate you so you can stockpile it before winter turns everything muted and dreary.
it’ll be this kind of deep blue
Beneath the armor of skin/and/bone/and/mind
most of our colors are amazingly the same.