TERMS STARTING WITH
purple ::: 1. Any of a group of colors with a hue between that of violet and red. 2. Imperial, regal or princely.
purple ::: Amal: “It’s [violet valleys of the Blest] a reference to a supra-terrestrial region. As far as I remember, Sri Aurobindo added another similar line when I wrote to him some Latin lines from Virgil about a region where everything was ‘purple’. The adjective ‘purple’ in Latin means a region beyond the earth, which has either this colour or is simply ‘shining’. Sri Aurobindo’s new line: ‘And griefless countries under purple suns’.”
purpled ::: Amal: “To become richly manifest, beautifully intense, colourfully deep.” (Bk. II, Canto 10, Line 403)
purpled ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Purple
purpleheart ::: n. --> A strong, durable, and elastic wood of a purplish color, obtained from several tropical American leguminous trees of the genus Copaifera (C. pubiflora, bracteata, and officinalis). Used for decorative veneering. See Copaiba.
purple ::: n. --> A color formed by, or resembling that formed by, a combination of the primary colors red and blue.
Cloth dyed a purple color, or a garment of such color; especially, a purple robe, worn as an emblem of rank or authority; specifically, the purple rode or mantle worn by Roman emperors as the emblem of imperial dignity; as, to put on the imperial purple.
Hence: Imperial sovereignty; royal rank, dignity, or favor; loosely and colloquially, any exalted station; great wealth.
purple prose: Writing which contains ornate or sentimental language.
purples ::: pl. --> of Purple
purple ::: Sri Aurobindo: [in reference to the following lines of Virgil]
purple wire "jargon, hardware" Wire installed by {IBM} Field Engineers to work around problems discovered during testing or debugging. These are called "purple wires" even when (as is frequently the case) they are yellow. Compare {blue wire}, {yellow wire}, and {red wire}. (1995-04-11)
purple wire ::: (jargon, hardware) Wire installed by IBM Field Engineers to work around problems discovered during testing or debugging. These are called purple wires even when (as is frequently the case) they are yellow.Compare blue wire, yellow wire, and red wire. (1995-04-11)
purplewood ::: n. --> Same as Purpleheart.
Purple Book ::: 1. (publication) The System V Interface Definition. The covers of the first editions were an amazingly nauseating shade of off-lavender.2. (publication) The Wizard Book.See also book titles.[Jargon File]
Purple Book 1. "publication" The "System V Interface Definition". The covers of the first editions were an amazingly nauseating shade of off-lavender. 2. "publication" The {Wizard Book}. See also {book titles}. [{Jargon File}]
Purple ::: colour of the vital force. Light near to purple; light of a power in the vital.
PURPLE. ::: Vide Colours. *
TERMS ANYWHERE
Amal: “It’s a reference to a supra-terrestrial region. As far as I remember, Sri Aurobindo added another similar line when I wrote to him some Latin lines from Virgil about a region where everything was ‘purple’. The adjective ‘purple’ in Latin means a region beyond the earth, which has either this colour or is simply ‘shining’. Sri Aurobindo’s new line: ‘And griefless countries under purple suns’.”
amaranth ::: n. --> An imaginary flower supposed never to fade.
A genus of ornamental annual plants (Amaranthus) of many species, with green, purplish, or crimson flowers.
A color inclining to purple.
amethyst ::: A purple or violet quartz; having the clear colour as of the precious stone. (Sri Aurobindo employs the word as an adj.)
amethyst ::: a purple or violet quartz; having the clear colour as of the precious stone. Sri Aurobindo uses the word as an adj."for Amethyst (the Mother)she has revealed that it has a power of protection” Huta
amethyst ::: A purple or violet quartz; having the clear colour as of the precious stone. Sri Aurobindo uses the word as an adj.
amethyst ::: --> A variety of crystallized quartz, of a purple or bluish violet color, of different shades. It is much used as a jeweler&
Amoghavajra. (C. Bukong; J. Fuku; K. Pulgong 不空) (705-774). Buddhist émigré ACARYA who played a major role in the introduction and translation of seminal Buddhist texts belonging to the esoteric tradition or mijiao (see MIKKYo; TANTRA). His birthplace is uncertain, but many sources allude to his ties to Central Asia. Accompanying his teacher VAJRABODHI, Amoghavajra arrived in the Chinese capital of Chang'an in 720-1 and spent most of his career in that cosmopolitan city. In 741, following the death of his mentor, Amoghavajra made an excursion to India and Sri Lanka with the permission of the Tang-dynasty emperor and returned in 746 with new Buddhist texts, many of them esoteric scriptures. Amoghavajra's influence in the Tang court reached its peak when he was summoned by the emperor to construct an ABHIsEKA, or consecration, altar on his behalf. Amoghavajra's activities in Chang'an were interrupted by the An Lushan rebellion (655-763), but after the rebellion was quelled, he returned to his work at the capital and established an inner chapel for HOMA rituals and abhiseka in the imperial palace. He was later honored by the emperor with the purple robe, the highest honor for a Buddhist monk and the rank of third degree. Along with XUANZANG, Amoghavajra was one of the most prolific translators and writers in the history of Chinese Buddhism. Among the many texts that he translated into Chinese, especially important are the SARVATATHAGATATATTVASAMGRAHA and the BHADRACARĪPRAnIDHANA.
amorpha ::: n. --> A genus of leguminous shrubs, having long clusters of purple flowers; false or bastard indigo.
"And griefless countries under purple suns.” *Letters on Savitri
“And griefless countries under purple suns.” Letters on Savitri
aplysia ::: n. --> A genus of marine mollusks of the order Tectibranchiata; the sea hare. Some of the species when disturbed throw out a deep purple liquor, which colors the water to some distance. See Illust. in Appendix.
Badge ::: Symbols worn by Jews and others targeted by the Nazi regime for easy identification. Jews were ordered to wear a yellow Star of David; political prisoners a red triangle; criminals a green triangle; "Asocials" a black triangle; Gypsies a brown triangle; Jehovah's Witnesses a purple triangle and Homosexuals a pink triangle.
bepurple ::: v. t. --> To tinge or dye with a purple color.
blue wire (IBM) Patch wires added to circuit boards at the factory to correct design or fabrication problems. These may be necessary if there hasn't been time to design and qualify another board version. Compare {purple wire}, {red wire}, {yellow wire}. [{Jargon File}] (1994-11-29)
blue wire ::: (IBM) Patch wires added to circuit boards at the factory to correct design or fabrication problems. These may be necessary if there hasn't been time to design and qualify another board version.Compare purple wire, red wire, yellow wire.[Jargon File] (1994-11-29)
book titles "publication" There is a tradition in hackerdom of informally tagging important textbooks and standards documents with the dominant colour of their covers or with some other conspicuous feature of the cover. Many of these are described in {this dictionary} under their own entries. See {Aluminum Book}, {Blue Book}, {Cinderella Book}, {Devil Book}, {Dragon Book}, {Green Book}, {Orange Book}, {Pink-Shirt Book}, {Purple Book}, {Red Book}, {Silver Book}, {White Book}, {Wizard Book}, {Yellow Book}, {bible}, {rainbow series}. [{Jargon File}] (1996-12-03)
book titles ::: (publication) There is a tradition in hackerdom of informally tagging important textbooks and standards documents with the dominant colour of their Pink-Shirt Book, Purple Book, Red Book, Silver Book, White Book, Wizard Book, Yellow Book, bible, rainbow series.[Jargon File] (1996-12-03)
bornite ::: n. --> A valuable ore of copper, containing copper, iron, and sulphur; -- also called purple copper ore (or erubescite), in allusion to the colors shown upon the slightly tarnished surface.
"Both [purple and crimson] are vital lights, but when seen above they represent the original forces of which the vital are the derivations.” Letters on Yoga
“Both [purple and crimson] are vital lights, but when seen above they represent the original forces of which the vital are the derivations.” Letters on Yoga
purple ::: 1. Any of a group of colors with a hue between that of violet and red. 2. Imperial, regal or princely.
purple ::: Amal: “It’s [violet valleys of the Blest] a reference to a supra-terrestrial region. As far as I remember, Sri Aurobindo added another similar line when I wrote to him some Latin lines from Virgil about a region where everything was ‘purple’. The adjective ‘purple’ in Latin means a region beyond the earth, which has either this colour or is simply ‘shining’. Sri Aurobindo’s new line: ‘And griefless countries under purple suns’.”
purpled ::: Amal: “To become richly manifest, beautifully intense, colourfully deep.” (Bk. II, Canto 10, Line 403)
purpled ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Purple
purpleheart ::: n. --> A strong, durable, and elastic wood of a purplish color, obtained from several tropical American leguminous trees of the genus Copaifera (C. pubiflora, bracteata, and officinalis). Used for decorative veneering. See Copaiba.
purple ::: n. --> A color formed by, or resembling that formed by, a combination of the primary colors red and blue.
Cloth dyed a purple color, or a garment of such color; especially, a purple robe, worn as an emblem of rank or authority; specifically, the purple rode or mantle worn by Roman emperors as the emblem of imperial dignity; as, to put on the imperial purple.
Hence: Imperial sovereignty; royal rank, dignity, or favor; loosely and colloquially, any exalted station; great wealth.
purple prose: Writing which contains ornate or sentimental language.
purples ::: pl. --> of Purple
purple ::: Sri Aurobindo: [in reference to the following lines of Virgil]
purple wire "jargon, hardware" Wire installed by {IBM} Field Engineers to work around problems discovered during testing or debugging. These are called "purple wires" even when (as is frequently the case) they are yellow. Compare {blue wire}, {yellow wire}, and {red wire}. (1995-04-11)
purple wire ::: (jargon, hardware) Wire installed by IBM Field Engineers to work around problems discovered during testing or debugging. These are called purple wires even when (as is frequently the case) they are yellow.Compare blue wire, yellow wire, and red wire. (1995-04-11)
purplewood ::: n. --> Same as Purpleheart.
calceolaria ::: n. --> A genus of showy herbaceous or shrubby plants, brought from South America; slipperwort. It has a yellow or purple flower, often spotted or striped, the shape of which suggests its name.
calypso ::: n. --> A small and beautiful species of orchid, having a flower variegated with purple, pink, and yellow. It grows in cold and wet localities in the northern part of the United States. The Calypso borealis is the only orchid which reaches 68¡ N.
carmine ::: n. --> A rich red or crimson color with a shade of purple.
A beautiful pigment, or a lake, of this color, prepared from cochineal, and used in miniature painting.
The essential coloring principle of cochineal, extracted as a purple-red amorphous mass. It is a glucoside and possesses acid properties; -- hence called also carminic acid.
cassius ::: n. --> A brownish purple pigment, obtained by the action of some compounds of tin upon certain salts of gold. It is used in painting and staining porcelain and glass to give a beautiful purple color. Commonly called Purple of Cassius.
Chajang. (慈藏) (d.u.; fl. c. 590-658/alt. 608-686). Korean VINAYA master (yulsa) of the Silla dynasty. Born into the royal "true bone" (chin'gol) class of the Silla aristocracy, Chajang lost his parents at an early age and was ordained at the monastery of Wonnyongsa. Chajang traveled to China in 636 and during his sojourn on the mainland made a pilgrimage to WUTAISHAN, where he had a vision of the BODHISATTVA MANJUsRĪ. Returning to Silla Korea in 643, he is said to have brought back a set of the Buddhist canon and packed the boat on which he returned with Buddhist banners, streamers, and other ritual items. He is also claimed to have returned with treasures he had received directly from MaNjusrī, including sAKYAMUNI Buddha's own gold-studded monk's robe (K. kasa; KAsAYA) wrapped in purple silk gauze, as well as the Buddha's skull bone and finger joint. Back in Silla, Chajang began looking for the place where MaNjusrī had told him the relics should be enshrined. After a long search, he finally found the spot in 646, where he constructed a "Diamond Precept Platform" (Kŭmgang kyedan) and enshrined one portion of the Buddha's relics. This platform was the origin of the important Korean monastery of T'ONGDOSA, which became the center of vinaya practice in Korea. Chajang is also said to have established SINHŬNGSA, WoLCHoNGSA, and HWANGNYONGSA and supervised the construction of the famous nine-story wooden pagoda at Hwangnyongsa, which was completed in 645. He was also appointed the state overseer of the SAMGHA (taegukt'ong), the top ecclesiastical office in the Silla Buddhist institution. Chajang was in charge of regulations concerning the conduct of monks and nuns all over the country, as well as overseeing at a state level the repair and maintenance of temples, the correct attention to the details of Buddhist ceremonial ritual, and the proper display of Buddhist religious images. His concern to improve the discipline and decorum of Korean monks led to his emphasis on vinaya study and practice, and he did much to encourage the study and dissemination of the vinaya in Korea, including writing commentaries to the SARVASTIVADA and DHARMAGUPTAKA vinayas. Chajang also instituted the UPOsADHA rite of having monks recite the PRATIMOKsA once every fortnight on full- and new-moon days. For his efforts, Chajang was revered by later generations as a teacher of the Dharmaguptaka vinaya (known in East Asia as the "Four-Part Vinaya"; see SIFEN LÜ) and the founder of the Korean analogue to the Chinese NANSHAN LÜ ZONG of DAOXUAN. In 650, at Chajang's suggestion, the Silla court adopted the Tang Chinese calendrical system, an important step in the Sinicization of the Korean monarchy. Various works attributed to Chajang include the Amit'a kyong ŭigi ("Notes on the AMITABHASuTRA"), Sabun yul kalma sagi ("Personal Notes on the Karman Section of the Four-Part Vinaya"), and Kwanhaeng pop ("Contemplative Practice Techniques"); none of his writings are extant.
cherimoyer ::: n. --> A small downy-leaved tree (Anona Cherimolia), with fragrant flowers. It is a native of Peru.
Its delicious fruit, which is succulent, dark purple, and similar to the custard apple of the West Indies.
Chikchisa. (直指寺). In Korean, "Direct Pointing Monastery"; the eighth district monastery (PONSA) of the contemporary CHOGYE CHONG of Korean Buddhism, located on Mount Hwangak in North Kyongsang province. The monastery purports to have been founded in 418 CE by the Koguryo monk Ado (fl. c. 418). There are three different stories about how the monastery got its name. The first version states that the name originated when Ado pointed directly at Mount Hwangak and said, "At that place, a large monastery will be established." The second story says that a monk called Nŭngyo (fl. c. 936) laid out the monastery campus using only his hands and without using any other measuring devices; hence, the monastery was given the name "Direct Measuring" (chikchi). A third story connects the name to the famous line concerning the soteriological approach of the SoN or CHAN school: "direct pointing to the human mind" (K. chikchi insim; C. ZHIZHI RENXIN). With the support of the Koryo king Taejo (r. 918-943), Nŭngyo restored the monastery in 936; major renovations followed in the tenth century and again during the Choson dynasty. In 1595, during the Japanese Hideyoshi invasions, all its buildings except the Ch'onbul Chon (Thousand Buddhas Hall), Ch'onwang Mun (Heavenly Kings Gate), and Chaha Mun (Purple-Glow Gate) were burned to the ground. The monastery was rebuilt in a massive construction project that began in 1602 and lasted for seventy years. The monastery enshrines many treasures, including a seated figure of the healing buddha BHAIsAJYAGURU and a hanging picture of a Buddha triad (Samjonbul T'AENGHWA). Two three-story stone pagodas are located in front of the main shrine hall (TAEUNG CHoN) and other three-story pagodas are located in front of the Piro chon (VAIROCANA Hall).
corundum ::: n. --> The earth alumina, as found native in a crystalline state, including sapphire, which is the fine blue variety; the oriental ruby, or red sapphire; the oriental amethyst, or purple sapphire; and adamantine spar, the hair-brown variety. It is the hardest substance found native, next to the diamond.
cudbear ::: n. --> A powder of a violet red color, difficult to moisten with water, used for making violet or purple dye. It is prepared from certain species of lichen, especially Lecanora tartarea.
A lichen (Lecanora tartarea), from which the powder is obtained.
Da Song seng shi lüe. (J. Dai So soshiryaku; K. Tae Song sŭng sa nyak 大宋僧史略). In Chinese, "Abbreviated History of the SAMGHA, [compiled during] the Great Song [Dynasty]"; compiled by the monk ZANNING, in three rolls. Zanning began to write this institutional history of Buddhism in 978 and finished it in 999. In the first roll, Zanning describes the life of sĀKYAMUNI Buddha and the transmission of Buddhism to China. He also provides a brief history of monasteries, translation projects, and scriptural exegeses, as well as an explanation of the ordination procedure and the practice of repentance. The first roll ends with a history of the CHAN school. The second roll delineates the organization of the Buddhist monkhood and its recognition by the court in China. The last roll offers a history of Buddhist retreat societies, precept platforms (SĪMĀ), and émigré monks; in addition, it provides an explanation of the significance of bestowing the purple robe (of a royal master) and receiving the appellation of "great master" (dashi). As one of the earliest attempts to provide a comprehensive account of the history of Buddhism across Asia, the Da Song seng shi lüe serves as an invaluable source for the study of premodern Buddhist historiography.
deergrass ::: n. --> An American genus (Rhexia) of perennial herbs, with opposite leaves, and showy flowers (usually bright purple), with four petals and eight stamens, -- the only genus of the order Melastomaceae inhabiting a temperate clime.
digitalis ::: n. --> A genus of plants including the foxglove.
The dried leaves of the purple foxglove (Digitalis purpurea), used in heart disease, disturbance of the circulation, etc.
empurpled ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Empurple
empurple ::: v. t. --> To tinge or dye of a purple color; to color with purple; to impurple.
empurpling ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Empurple
epacris ::: n. --> A genus of shrubs, natives of Australia, New Zealand, etc., having pretty white, red, or purple blossoms, and much resembling heaths.
erythroleic ::: a. --> Having a red color and oily appearance; -- applied to a purple semifluid substance said to be obtained from archil.
fluorite ::: n. --> Calcium fluoride, a mineral of many different colors, white, yellow, purple, green, red, etc., often very beautiful, crystallizing commonly in cubes with perfect octahedral cleavage; also massive. It is used as a flux. Some varieties are used for ornamental vessels. Also called fluor spar, or simply fluor.
Fudochi shinmyoroku. (不動智神妙録). In Japanese, "Record of the Mental Sublimity of Immovable Wisdom," a treatise on ZEN and sword fighting composed by the Japanese RINZAISHu monk TAKUAN SoHo (1573-1645). In the first half of the seventeenth century, Takuan found himself in the middle of a political battle known as the "purple robe incident" (shi'e jiken), which, in 1629, ultimately led to his exile to Kaminoyama in Uzen (present-day Yamagata Prefecture). There, he composed this treatise on the proper use of the mind in Zen and sword fighting for the samurai sword master Yagyu Muneori (1571-1646), the personal instructor to the shogun. Takuan first describes the afflictions that rise from ignorance (AVIDLĀ) as hindrances to proper sword fighting. Then he explains the "immovable wisdom" as the unclinging, unstopping mind. Takuan likens this unmoving state to the concept of "no-mind" (J. mushin; C. WUXIN) in the "Platform Sutra" (LIUZU TANJING), wherein one's movements are not calculated, but instinctual; thus, there should be no gap between mind and sword. The rest of the treatise expounds upon the proper means of attaining this state of no-mind.
funny money ::: Notional units of computing time and/or storage handed to students at the beginning of a computer course; also called play money or purple money (in implicit opposition to real or green money).In New Zealand and Germany the odd usage paper money has been recorded; in Germany, the particularly amusing synonym transfer ruble commemorates the funny money used for trade between COMECON countries back when the Soviet Bloc still existed.When your funny money ran out, your account froze and you needed to go to a professor to get more. Fortunately, the plunging cost of time-sharing cycles has accounts. By extension, phantom money or quantity tickets of any kind used as a resource-allocation hack within a system.[Jargon File]
funny money Notional units of computing time and/or storage handed to students at the beginning of a computer course; also called "play money" or "purple money" (in implicit opposition to real or "green" money). In New Zealand and Germany the odd usage "paper money" has been recorded; in Germany, the particularly amusing synonym "transfer ruble" commemorates the funny money used for trade between COMECON countries back when the Soviet Bloc still existed. When your funny money ran out, your account froze and you needed to go to a professor to get more. Fortunately, the plunging cost of {time-sharing} cycles has made this less common. The amounts allocated were almost invariably too small, even for the non-hackers who wanted to slide by with minimum work. In extreme cases, the practice led to small-scale black markets in bootlegged computer accounts. By extension, phantom money or quantity tickets of any kind used as a resource-allocation hack within a system. [{Jargon File}]
Furong Daokai. (J. Fuyo Dokai; K. Puyong Tohae 芙蓉道楷) (1043-1118). Chinese CHAN master in the CAODONG ZONG, a native of Yizhou in present-day Shandong province. When he was young, Daokai is said to have trained to become a Daoist transcendent (shenxian). He later became a monk at the monastery Shushengyuan (or Shutaisi) in Jingshi, where he studied under a monk named Dexian (d.u.); and, in 1074, he received the full monastic precepts. Daokai later became a disciple of the Chan master TOUZI YIQING at the Chan monastery of Haihui Chansi on Mt. Baiyun in Shuzhou prefecture (present-day Anhui province). In 1082, he established himself on Mt. Xiantong in Yizhou and in 1103 became the second abbot of the influential Chan monastery of Baoshou Chanyuan on Mt. Dahong (present-day Hubei province). A year later he relocated to the Chan monastery of Shifang Jingyin Chanyuan in Dongjing (present-day Henan province) and again to the nearby Tianningsi in 1107. The emperor offered him a purple robe and the title Chan Master Dingzhao (DHYĀNA Illumination), but Daokai declined. Later, a prominent lay follower built a hermitage for him on Furong island (present-day Shandong province), whence he acquired his toponym. The community at Furong quickly grew into a prominent monastery. In 1117, Daokai's hermitage was given the official plaque Huayan Chansi, thereby elevating it to an official "monastery of the ten directions" (SHIFANGCHA). Inheriting his lineage were twenty-nine disciples, of whom the most famous was Danxia Zichun (1064-1117). Furong's teachings are recorded in the Furong Kai chanshi yuyao.
gallinule ::: n. --> One of several wading birds, having long, webless toes, and a frontal shield, belonging to the family Rallidae. They are remarkable for running rapidly over marshes and on floating plants. The purple gallinule of America is Ionornis Martinica, that of the Old World is Porphyrio porphyrio. The common European gallinule (Gallinula chloropus) is also called moor hen, water hen, water rail, moor coot, night bird, and erroneously dabchick. Closely related to it is the Florida gallinule (Gallinula galeata).
genipap ::: n. --> The edible fruit of a West Indian tree (Genipa Americana) of the order Rubiaceae. It is oval in shape, as a large as a small orange, of a pale greenish color, and with dark purple juice.
grackle ::: n. --> One of several American blackbirds, of the family Icteridae; as, the rusty grackle (Scolecophagus Carolinus); the boat-tailed grackle (see Boat-tail); the purple grackle (Quiscalus quiscula, or Q. versicolor). See Crow blackbird, under Crow.
An Asiatic bird of the genus Gracula. See Myna.
Green Book ::: 1. publication> Informal name for one of the four standard references on PostScript. The other three official guides are known as the Blue Book, the Red Book, and the White Book.[PostScript Language Program Design, Adobe Systems, Addison-Wesley, 1988 (ISBN 0-201-14396-8)].2. (publication) Informal name for one of the three standard references on SmallTalk. Also associated with blue and red books.[Smalltalk-80: Bits of History, Words of Advice, by Glenn Krasner (Addison-Wesley, 1983; QA76.8.S635S58; ISBN 0-201-11669-3)].3. publication> The X/Open Compatibility Guide, which defines an international standard Unix environment that is a proper superset of POSIX/SVID. administrations features, and the like. This grimoire is taken with particular seriousness in Europe. See Purple Book.4. publication> The IEEE 1003.1 POSIX Operating Systems Interface standard has been dubbed The Ugly Green Book.5. publication> Any of the 1992 standards issued by the ITU-T's tenth plenary assembly. These include, among other things, the dreadful X.400 electronic mail standard and the Group 1 through 4 fax standards.6. Green Book CD-ROM.See also book titles.[Jargon File] (1996-12-03)
Green Book 1. "publication" Informal name for one of the four standard references on {PostScript}. The other three official guides are known as the {Blue Book}, the {Red Book}, and the {White Book}. ["PostScript Language Program Design", Adobe Systems, Addison-Wesley, 1988 (ISBN 0-201-14396-8)]. 2. "publication" Informal name for one of the three standard references on {SmallTalk}. Also associated with blue and red books. ["Smalltalk-80: Bits of History, Words of Advice", by Glenn Krasner (Addison-Wesley, 1983; QA76.8.S635S58; ISBN 0-201-11669-3)]. 3. "publication" The "X/Open Compatibility Guide", which defines an international standard {Unix} environment that is a proper superset of {POSIX}/SVID. It also includes descriptions of a standard utility toolkit, systems administrations features, and the like. This grimoire is taken with particular seriousness in Europe. See {Purple Book}. 4. "publication" The {IEEE} 1003.1 {POSIX} Operating Systems Interface standard has been dubbed "The Ugly Green Book". 5. "publication" Any of the 1992 standards issued by the {ITU-T}'s tenth plenary assembly. These include, among other things, the dreadful {X.400} {electronic mail} standard and the Group 1 through 4 fax standards. 6. {Green Book CD-ROM}. See also {book titles}. [{Jargon File}] (1996-12-03)
groundnut ::: n. --> The fruit of the Arachis hypogaea (native country uncertain); the peanut; the earthnut.
A leguminous, twining plant (Apios tuberosa), producing clusters of dark purple flowers and having a root tuberous and pleasant to the taste.
The dwarf ginseng (Aralia trifolia).
A European plant of the genus Bunium (B. flexuosum), having an edible root of a globular shape and sweet, aromatic taste; --
Guifeng Zongmi. (J. Keiho Shumitsu; K. Kyubong Chongmil 圭峰宗密) (780-841). Chinese CHAN master and historian; putative fifth patriarch of the HUAYAN tradition and successor in the Heze school of CHAN; best known for positing the fundamental harmony between the scriptural teachings of Buddhism and Chan practice. Zongmi was a native of Xichong in present-day Sichuan province. Although little is known of his early life, Zongmi is said to have received a classical Confucian education. In 804, Zongmi encountered the monk Daoyuan (d.u.), purportedly a fourth-generation lineage holder of the Heze line of Chan (see HEZE SHENHUI), and became his student. During this period, Zongmi also carried on his studies of the YUANJUE JING. In 808, Zongmi received the full monastic precepts from Daoyuan, who then recommended the monk Nanyin Weizhong (d. 821) as a suitable teacher. In 810, Zongmi met the monk Lingfeng (d.u.), a disciple of the Huayan monk CHENGGUAN, at the monastery of Huijuesi. Two years later Zongmi began his studies of the AVATAMSAKASuTRA under CHENGGUAN in Chang'an. In 816, Zongmi began his residence at the monastery of Zhijusi on ZHONGNANSHAN and in 821 he retired to the temple Caotangsi on Gui peak (Guifeng), whence he acquired his toponym. There, Zongmi devoted himself to such works as his influential commentary on the Yuanjue jing, the Yuanjue jing dashu. In 828, Zongmi was invited to the palace and given a purple robe and the title Dade (Great Virtue). During his stay at the capital he met many important statesmen including Pei Xiu (787-860). Zongmi was a prolific writer whose works include commentaries on the AvataMsakasutra, VAJRACCHEDIKĀPRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀSuTRA, DASHENG QIXIN LUN, MAHĀPARINIRVĀnASuTRA, SIFEN LÜ ("Four-Part Vinaya"), and others. He also composed a massive, 100-roll history of the Chan school, the Chanyuan zhuquanji ("Collected Writings on the Source of Chan"), only the prolegomenon to which is extant (see CHANYUAN ZHUQUANJI DUXU). Zongmi's writings were extremely influential in the mature Korean SoN school and, especially, in the thought and practice of POJO CHINUL (1158-1210), who drew on Zongmi to advocate an accord between the traditions of Son (C. Chan; meditation) and Kyo (C. JIAO; doctrine). See also LINGZHI; FANZHAO.
Here an ampler ether spreads over the plains and clothes them in purple light, and they have a sun of their own and their own stars.
::: Here an ampler ether spreads over the plains and clothes them in purple light, and they have a sun of their own and their own stars.
ianthina ::: n. --> Any gastropod of the genus Ianthina, of which various species are found living in mid ocean; -- called also purple shell, and violet snail.
"I don"t know [‘what plane is spoken of by Virgil"], but purple is a light of the Vital. It may have been one of the vital heavens he was thinking of. The ancients saw the vital heavens as the highest and most of the religions also have done the same. I have used the suggestion of Virgil to insert a needed line.” *Letters on Savitri
“I don’t know [‘what plane is spoken of by Virgil’], but purple is a light of the Vital. It may have been one of the vital heavens he was thinking of. The ancients saw the vital heavens as the highest and most of the religions also have done the same. I have used the suggestion of Virgil to insert a needed line.” Letters on Savitri
impurpled ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Impurple
impurple ::: v. t. --> To color or tinge with purple; to make red or reddish; to purple; as, a field impurpled with blood.
impurpling ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Impurple
In ceaseless motion round the purple rim
“In the Egyptian temples, according to Clemens Alexandrinus, an immense curtain separated the tabernacle from the place for the congregation. The Jews had the same. In both, the curtain was drawn over five pillars (the Pentacle) symbolising our five senses and five Root-races esoterically, while the four colours of the curtain represented the four cardinal points and the four terrestrial elements. The whole was an allegorical symbol. It is through the four high Rulers over the four points and Elements that our five senses may became cognisant of the hidden truths of Nature; and not at all, as Clemens would have it, that it is the elements per se that furnished the Pagans with divine Knowledge or the knowledge of God. . . . For what was the meaning of the square tabernacle raised by Moses in the wilderness, if it had not the same cosmical significance? ‘Thou shalt make an hanging . . . of blue, purple, and scarlet’ and ‘five pillars of shittim wood for the hanging . . . four brazen rings in the four corners thereof . . . boards of fine wood for the four sides, North, South, West, and East . . . of the Tabernacle . . . with Cherubims of cunning work.” (Exodus, Ch. xxvi, xxvii.) The Tabernacle and the square courtyard, Cherubim and all, were precisely the same as those in the Egyptian temples. The square form of the Tabernacle meant just the same thing as it still means, to this day, in the exoteric worship of the Chinese and Tibetans — the four cardinal points signifying that which the four sides of the pyramids, obelisks, and other such square erections mean. Josephus takes care to explain the whole thing. He declares that the Tabernacle pillars are the same as those raised at Tyre to the four Elements, which were placed on pedestals whose four angles faced the four cardinal points: adding that ‘the angles of the pedestals had equally the four figures of the Zodiac’ on them, which represented the same orientation (Antiquites I, VIII, ch. xxii).
In the Shah-namah of Firdusi, the figures in this myth become historical characters: “It is apparent, therefore, that by Zohak is meant the Assyrian dynasty, whose symbol was the purpureum signum draconis — the purple sign of the dragon. From a very remote antiquity (Genesis 14) this dynasty ruled Asia, Armenia, Syria, Arabia, Babylonia, Media, Persia, Bactria, and Afghanistan. It was finally overthrown by Cyrus and Darius Hystaspes, after ‘1,000 years’ rule. . . . Zohak probably imposed the Assyrian or Magian worship of fire upon the Persians” (IU 2:486).
isabella grape ::: --> A favorite sweet American grape of a purple color. See Fox grape, under Fox.
Jingzhong zong. (J. Joshushu; K. Chongjung chong 淨衆宗). A branch of the early CHAN ZONG that flourished at the monastery Jingzhongsi in Chengdu (present-day Sichuan province). The history of the Jingzhong line is documented in the LIDAI FABAO JI. According to this text, the Jingzhong line is derived from the Chan master Zhishen (609-702), a disciple of the fifth patriarch HONGREN. Zhishen is also said to have received the purple robe of the Chan founder BODHIDHARMA from Empress Dowager WU ZETIAN, which was ostensibly transmitted to Zhishen's disciple Chuji (648-734/650-732/669-736) and then to CHoNGJUNG MUSANG (C. Jingzhong Wuxiang) and BAOTANG WUZHU. The Lidai fabao ji, authored by a disciple of Wuzhu, claims that the Jingzhong lineage is eventually absorbed into the BAOTANG ZONG, though the two seem in fact to have been distinct lineages. The eminent Chan masters MAZU DAOYI and GUIFENG ZONGMI are also known to have once studied under teachers of the Jingzhong line of Chan. The school is most closely associated with the so-called three propositions (sanju), a unique set of Chan precepts that were equated with the traditional roster of the three trainings (TRIsIKsĀ): "no recollection" (wuyi), which was equated with morality (sĪLA); "no thought" (WUNIAN) with concentration (SAMĀDHI); and "no forgetting" (mowang) with wisdom (PRAJNĀ). These three propositions are associated most closely with Musang, but other texts attribute them instead to Musang's putative successor, Wuzhu. The portrayal in the literature of the teachings of the Jingzhong school divides along the fault line of these two great teachers, with Musang's Chan adaptation of mainstream Buddhist teachings contrasting markedly with Wuzhu's more radical, even antinomian approach, deriving from HEZE SHENHUI. The Jingzhong masters are also said to have had some influence in Tibet (see BSAM YAS DEBATE), including on the development of MAHĀYOGA and RDZOGS CHEN.
laticlave ::: n. --> A broad stripe of purple on the fore part of the tunic, worn by senators in ancient Rome as an emblem of office.
Lidai fabao ji. (J. Rekidai hoboki; K. Yoktae poppo ki 歴代法寶). In Chinese, "Record of the Dharma-Jewel throughout Successive Generations"; an influential genealogical history of the early CHAN tradition, composed by disciples of the Chan master BAOTANG WUZHU in the JINGZHONG ZONG. The history of the Chan school as related in the Lidai fabao ji begins with the arrival of Buddhism in China during the Han dynasty, which is followed by a brief discussion of the lineages of dharma transmission in the FU FAZANG YINYUAN ZHUAN and LENGQIE SHIZI JI. The Lidai fabao ji then provides the biographies of the six patriarchs (ZUSHI) of Chan in China: Bodhidharmatrāta [alt. BODHIDHARMA], Huike, Sengcan, Daoxin, Hongren, and Huineng. Each biography ends with a brief reference to the transmission of the purple monastic robe of Bodhidharma as a symbol of authority. The manner in which this robe came into the hands of Zhishen (609-702), a disciple of the fifth patriarch Hongren, is told following the biography of the sixth, and last, patriarch Huineng. According to the Lidai fabao ji's transmission story, Huineng entrusted the robe to Empress WU ZETIAN, who in turn gave it to Zhishen during his visit to the imperial palace. Zhishen is then said to have transmitted this robe to Chuji [alt. 648-734, 650-732, 669-736], who later passed it on to his disciple CHoNGJUNG MUSANG (C. Jingzhong Wuxiang). The robe finally came into the possession of Musang's disciple Baotang Wuzhu, whose teachings comprise the bulk of the Lidai fabao ji. After the Lidai fabao ji was translated into Tibetan, Wuzhu's teachings made their way to Tibetan plateau, where they seem to have exerted some influence over the early development of Tibetan Buddhism. The Lidai fabao ji was thought to have been lost until the modern discovery of several copies of the text in the manuscript cache at DUNHUANG. Cf. CHUANDENG LU; LENGQIE SHIZI JI.
loosestrife ::: n. --> The name of several species of plants of the genus Lysimachia, having small star-shaped flowers, usually of a yellow color.
Any species of the genus Lythrum, having purple, or, in some species, crimson flowers.
lucern ::: n. --> A sort of hunting dog; -- perhaps from Lucerne, in Switzerland.
An animal whose fur was formerly much in request (by some supposed to be the lynx).
A leguminous plant (Medicago sativa), having bluish purple cloverlike flowers, cultivated for fodder; -- called also alfalfa.
A lamp.
lurid ::: a. --> Pale yellow; ghastly pale; wan; gloomy; dismal.
Having a brown color tonged with red, as of flame seen through smoke.
Of a color tinged with purple, yellow, and gray.
Lushan. (J. Rozan; K. Yosan 廬山). A Chinese sacred mountain located near Poyang Lake in present-day Jiangxi province. Lushan, or Cottage Mountain, is a scenic place that was long frequented by Daoist practitioners and known as the abode of Daoist perfected. AN SHIGAO, the early Parthian translator of Chinese Buddhist texts, is also said to have resided on the mountain during the Eastern Han dynasty. At the end of the fourth century CE, the Chinese monk DAO'AN is known to have established the monastery Xilinsi (Western Grove Monastery) on the mountain. A decade or so later, his famed disciple LUSHAN HUIYUAN also came to the mountain and established the influential monastery DONGLINSI (Eastern Grove Monastery). On a peak named the "PRAJNĀ Terrace," Huiyuan enshrined an image of the buddha AMITĀBHA for worship and contemplation. Together with 123 colleagues, Huiyuan established the White Lotus Society (BAILIAN SHE), which was dedicated to Amitābha worship. Due especially to Huiyuan's influence, Lushan emerged as an important site for the cult of Amitābha and his PURE LAND (see SUKHĀVATĪ). During the Song dynasty, Lushan became the home of the CHAN master HUANGLONG HUINAN (1002-1069) and his disciples in the HUANGLONG PAI of the LINJI ZONG. In 1147, Donglin Changcong (1025-1091), one of Huanglong's chief disciples and recipient of the imperial purple robe, was appointed by the court to assume to abbotship of Donglinsi, which had been officially recognized as a public Chan cloister (chanyuan) in 1079. During his visit to Lushan, the renowned poet Su Shi (1037-1101) is said to have attained awakening under Changcong's guidance. In 1616, the Chan master HANSHAN DEQING established the monastery Fayunsi on Lushan's Wuru peak. Lushan continues to serve today as an important pilgrimage site for Chinese Buddhists.
Madhav: “Purple rim is the border of the sun. So around the red border, the earth moves in ceaseless, uninterrupted motion.” The Book of the Divine Mother
mahon stock ::: --> An annual cruciferous plant with reddish purple or white flowers (Malcolmia maritima). It is called in England Virginia stock, but the plant comes from the Mediterranean.
maroon ::: n. --> In the West Indies and Guiana, a fugitive slave, or a free negro, living in the mountains.
A brownish or dull red of any description, esp. of a scarlet cast rather than approaching crimson or purple.
An explosive shell. See Marron, 3. ::: v. t.
mauve ::: n. --> A color of a delicate purple, violet, or lilac.
medic ::: n. --> A leguminous plant of the genus Medicago. The black medic is the Medicago lupulina; the purple medic, or lucern, is M. sativa. ::: a. --> Medical.
morel ::: n. --> An edible fungus (Morchella esculenta), the upper part of which is covered with a reticulated and pitted hymenium. It is used as food, and for flavoring sauces.
Nightshade; -- so called from its blackish purple berries.
A kind of cherry. See Morello.
morning-glory ::: n. --> A climbing plant (Ipomoea purpurea) having handsome, funnel-shaped flowers, usually red, pink, purple, white, or variegated, sometimes pale blue. See Dextrorsal.
Mu'an Xingtao. (J. Mokuan Shoto; K. Mogam Songdo 木菴性瑫) (1611-1684). Chinese CHAN master, calligrapher, and pioneer of the oBAKUSHu in Japan. He was a native of Quanzhou in present-day Fujian province. After his novice ordination at the age of eighteen, Mu'an received the full monastic precepts from the monk Yongjue Yuanxian (1578-1657) on Mt. Gu (present-day Fujian province). Mu'an visited the eminent Chan master MIYUN YUANWU before he returned to Yongjue, under whom he is said to have attained awakening. Later, Mu'an continued his studies under FEIYIN TONGRONG and his disciple YINYUAN LONGQI at the monastery of Wanfusi on Mt. Huangbo (present-day Fujian province). Mu'an eventually became Yinyuan's disciple and inherited his lineage. In 1655, Mu'an arrived in Nagasaki, Japan, and began his residence at the monastery of Fukusaiji. In 1661, Mu'an followed Yinyuan to his new monastery of MANPUKUJI in Uji. Three years later, Mu'an succeeded Yinyuan as the abbot of the monastery, and the next year he oversaw the ordination of monks at the triple-precept platform ceremony (sandan kaie). In 1670, he received the purple robe, and later with the support of the shogun Tokugawa Ietsuna (1639-1680), he established the monastery of Zuishoji in Edo. In 1675, he turned over the administration of Zuishoji to his disciple Tetsugyu Doki (1628-1700) and that of Manpukuji to Huilin Xingji (1609-1681).
nitroprussic ::: a. --> Pertaining to, derived from, or designating, a complex acid called nitroprussic acid, obtained indirectly by the action of nitric acid on potassium ferrocyanide (yellow prussiate), as a red crystalline unstable substance. It forms salts called nitroprussides, which give a rich purple color with alkaline subphides.
nonpareil ::: a. --> Something of unequaled excellence; a peerless thing or person; a nonesuch; -- often used as a name.
A size of type next smaller than minion and next larger than agate (or ruby).
A beautifully colored finch (Passerina ciris), native of the Southern United States. The male has the head and neck deep blue, rump and under parts bright red, back and wings golden green, and the tail bluish purple. Called also painted finch.
nymph ::: n. --> A goddess of the mountains, forests, meadows, or waters.
A lovely young girl; a maiden; a damsel.
The pupa of an insect; a chrysalis.
Any one of a subfamily (Najades) of butterflies including the purples, the fritillaries, the peacock butterfly, etc.; -- called also naiad.
opah ::: n. --> A large oceanic fish (Lampris quttatus), inhabiting the Atlantic Ocean. It is remarkable for its brilliant colors, which are red, green, and blue, with tints of purple and gold, covered with round silvery spots. Called also king of the herrings.
optogram ::: n. --> An image of external objects fixed on the retina by the photochemical action of light on the visual purple. See Optography.
optography ::: n. --> The production of an optogram on the retina by the photochemical action of light on the visual purple; the fixation of an image in the eye. The object so photographed shows white on a purple or red background. See Visual purple, under Visual.
orpine ::: n. --> A low plant with fleshy leaves (Sedum telephium), having clusters of purple flowers. It is found on dry, sandy places, and on old walls, in England, and has become naturalized in America. Called also stonecrop, and live-forever.
pallium ::: n. --> A large, square, woolen cloak which enveloped the whole person, worn by the Greeks and by certain Romans. It is the Roman name of a Greek garment.
A band of white wool, worn on the shoulders, with four purple crosses worked on it; a pall.
The mantle of a bivalve. See Mantle.
The mantle of a bird.
pansy ::: n. --> A plant of the genus Viola (V. tricolor) and its blossom, originally purple and yellow. Cultivated varieties have very large flowers of a great diversity of colors. Called also heart&
pentacrinin ::: n. --> A red and purple pigment found in certain crinoids of the genus Pentacrinus.
perilla ::: n. --> A genus of labiate herbs, of which one species (Perilla ocimoides, or P. Nankinensis) is often cultivated for its purple or variegated foliage.
petechiae ::: n. pl. --> Small crimson, purple, or livid spots, like flea-bites, due to extravasation of blood, which appear on the skin in malignant fevers, etc.
petunia ::: n. --> A genus of solanaceous herbs with funnelform or salver-shaped corollas. Two species are common in cultivation, Petunia violacera, with reddish purple flowers, and P. nyctaginiflora, with white flowers. There are also many hybrid forms with variegated corollas.
phenicine ::: n. --> A purple powder precipitated when a sulphuric solution of indigo is diluted with water.
A coloring matter produced by the action of a mixture of strong nitric and sulphuric acids on phenylic alcohol.
phlox ::: n. --> A genus of American herbs, having showy red, white, or purple flowers.
photochemical ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to chemical action of light, or produced by it; as, the photochemical changes of the visual purple of the retina.
pimpernel ::: n. --> A plant of the genus Anagallis, of which one species (A. arvensis) has small flowers, usually scarlet, but sometimes purple, blue, or white, which speedily close at the approach of bad weather.
pitta ::: n. --> Any one of a large group of bright-colored clamatorial birds belonging to Pitta, and allied genera of the family Pittidae. Most of the species are varied with three or more colors, such as blue, green, crimson, yellow, purple, and black. They are called also ground thrushes, and Old World ant thrushes; but they are not related to the true thrushes.
poke ::: n. --> A large North American herb of the genus Phytolacca (P. decandra), bearing dark purple juicy berries; -- called also garget, pigeon berry, pocan, and pokeweed. The root and berries have emetic and purgative properties, and are used in medicine. The young shoots are sometimes eaten as a substitute for asparagus, and the berries are said to be used in Europe to color wine.
A bag; a sack; a pocket.
A long, wide sleeve; -- called also poke sleeve.
poly-mountain ::: n. --> Same as Poly, n.
The closely related Teucrium montanum, formerly called Polium montanum, a plant of Southern Europe.
The Bartsia alpina, a low purple-flowered herb of Europe.
porphyry ::: n. --> A term used somewhat loosely to designate a rock consisting of a fine-grained base (usually feldspathic) through which crystals, as of feldspar or quartz, are disseminated. There are red, purple, and green varieties, which are highly esteemed as marbles.
port ::: n. --> A dark red or purple astringent wine made in Portugal. It contains a large percentage of alcohol.
A passageway; an opening or entrance to an inclosed place; a gate; a door; a portal.
An opening in the side of a vessel; an embrasure through which cannon may be discharged; a porthole; also, the shutters which close such an opening.
A passageway in a machine, through which a fluid, as steam,
praetexta ::: n. --> A white robe with a purple border, worn by a Roman boy before he was entitled to wear the toga virilis, or until about the completion of his fourteenth year, and by girls until their marriage. It was also worn by magistrates and priests.
progne ::: n. --> A swallow.
A genus of swallows including the purple martin. See Martin.
An American butterfly (Polygonia, / Vanessa, Progne). It is orange and black above, grayish beneath, with an L-shaped silver mark on the hind wings. Called also gray comma.
puce ::: a. --> Of a dark brown or brownish purple color.
punicial ::: a. --> Of a bright red or purple color.
Purple Book ::: 1. (publication) The System V Interface Definition. The covers of the first editions were an amazingly nauseating shade of off-lavender.2. (publication) The Wizard Book.See also book titles.[Jargon File]
Purple Book 1. "publication" The "System V Interface Definition". The covers of the first editions were an amazingly nauseating shade of off-lavender. 2. "publication" The {Wizard Book}. See also {book titles}. [{Jargon File}]
Purple ::: colour of the vital force. Light near to purple; light of a power in the vital.
"Purple is the colour of vital power.” *Letters on Yoga
“Purple is the colour of vital power.” Letters on Yoga
PURPLE. ::: Vide Colours. *
purpling ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Purple
purplish ::: a. --> Somewhat purple.
purpre ::: n. & a. --> Purple.
purpura ::: n. --> A disease characterized by livid spots on the skin from extravasated blood, with loss of muscular strength, pain in the limbs, and mental dejection; the purples.
A genus of marine gastropods, usually having a rough and thick shell. Some species yield a purple dye.
purpureal ::: a. --> Of a purple color; purple.
purpure ::: n. --> Purple, -- represented in engraving by diagonal lines declining from the right top to the left base of the escutcheon (or from sinister chief to dexter base).
purpureo- ::: --> A combining form signifying of a purple or purple-red color. Specif. (Chem.), used in designating certain brilliant purple-red compounds of cobaltic chloride and ammonia, similar to the roseocobaltic compounds. See Cobaltic.
purpuric ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to purpura.
Pertaining to or designating, a nitrogenous acid contained in uric acid. It is not known in the pure state, but forms well-known purple-red compounds (as murexide), whence its name.
purpuriparous ::: a. --> Producing, or connected with, a purple-colored secretion; as, the purpuriparous gland of certain gastropods.
purpurogenous ::: a. --> Having the power to produce a purple color; as, the purpurogenous membrane, or choroidal epithelium, of the eye. See Visual purple, under Visual.
quartz ::: n. --> A form of silica, or silicon dioxide (SiO2), occurring in hexagonal crystals, which are commonly colorless and transparent, but sometimes also yellow, brown, purple, green, and of other colors; also in cryptocrystalline massive forms varying in color and degree of transparency, being sometimes opaque.
red wire ::: (IBM) Patch wires installed by programmers who have no business mucking with the hardware. It is said that the only thing more dangerous than a hardware guy with a code patch is a softy with a soldering iron.Compare blue wire, yellow wire, purple wire.[Jargon File] (1994-12-23)
red wire "jargon, hardware" (IBM) Patch wires installed by programmers who have no business mucking with the hardware. It is said that the only thing more dangerous than a hardware guy with a code patch is a {softy} with a soldering iron. Compare {blue wire}, {yellow wire}, {purple wire}. [{Jargon File}] (1994-12-23)
rhodizonic ::: a. --> Pertaining to, or designating, a colorless crystalline substance (called rhodizonic acid, and carboxylic acid) obtained from potassium carboxide and from certain quinones. It forms brilliant red, yellow, and purple salts.
rhodopsin ::: n. --> The visual purple. See under Visual.
rook ::: n. --> Mist; fog. See Roke.
One of the four pieces placed on the corner squares of the board; a castle.
A European bird (Corvus frugilegus) resembling the crow, but smaller. It is black, with purple and violet reflections. The base of the beak and the region around it are covered with a rough, scabrous skin, which in old birds is whitish. It is gregarious in its habits. The name is also applied to related Asiatic species.
rosebay ::: n. --> the oleander.
Any shrub of the genus Rhododendron.
An herb (Epilobium spicatum) with showy purple flowers, common in Europe and North America; -- called also great willow herb.
ruby-eyed ::: having eyes the colour of the ruby; a glowing purple-tinged red.
Sāhasrabhujasāhasranetrāvalokitesvara. [alt. Sahasrabhujasahasranetrāvalokitesvara] (T. Spyan ras gzigs phyag stong spyan stong; C. Qianshou Qianyan Guanyin; J. Senju Sengen Kannon; K. Ch'onsu Ch'onan Kwanŭm 千手千眼觀音). In Sanskrit, "Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed AVALOKITEsVARA"; one of the manifestations of the bodhisattva of compassion, Avalokitesvara (C. GUANYIN). The iconographical representations of this manifestation are usually depicted in abbreviated form with forty arms, each of which has an eye on its palm, indicating its ability compassionately to see and offer assistance to suffering sentient beings. Every arm also holds a different instrument, such as an axe, a sword, a bow, an arrow, a staff, a bell, or blue, white, and purple lotuses, each symbolizing one of the bodhisattva's various skills in saving sentient beings. The forty arms and eyes work on behalf of the sentient beings in the twenty-five realms of existence, giving the bodhisattva a total of a thousand arms and eyes. The images also typically are depicted with eleven or twenty-seven heads, although images with five hundred heads are also found. The origin of this manifestation is uncertain; the prototype may be such Indian deities as Visnu, INDRA, and siva, who are also sometimes depicted with multiple hands and eyes. Since no image of this form of the BODHISATTVA has been discovered in India proper, some scholars suggest that the form may have originated in Kashmir (See KASHMIR-GANDHĀRA) and thence spread north into Central and East Asia; this scenario is problematic, however, because the earliest such image found at DUNHUANG, the furthest Chinese outpost along the SILK ROAD, dates to 836, about two hundred years later than the first such image painted in China, which is said to have been made for the Tang emperor by an Indian monk sometime between 618 and 626. The Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin became popular in China through translations of the QIANSHOU JING ("Thousand Hands Sutra"; Nīlakanthakasutra) made between the mid-seventh and early-eighth centuries. Due to the great popularity of Bhagavaddharma's (fl. c. seventh century) early translation, which was rendered between 650 and 658, the Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Avalokitesvara became identified specifically with Avalokitesvara's manifestation as Great Compassion (C. Dabei; S. MAHĀKARUnIKA), although the epithet is used also to refer to Avalokitesvara more generally. The Guanyin cult was popular in Chang'an and Sichuan during the Tang period and became widespread throughout China by the Song period; this bodhisattva was subsequently worshipped widely in Korea, Japan, and Tibet, as well. The ritual of repentance offered to the bodhisattva was created by the TIANTAI monk ZHILI (960-1028); the ritual is still widely performed in Taiwan and China. By the twelfth century, the Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin also came to be identified with the legendary princess MIAOSHAN, who was so filial that she offered her own eyes to save her father's life. In Tibet, this form of Avalokitesvara is called Sāhasrabhuja-ekādasamukha Avalokitesvara (Spyan ras gzigs phyag stong zhal bcu gcig), with one thousand arms (often depicted in a fan formation) and eleven heads. According to a well-known story, the bodhisattva of compassion had vowed that if he ever gave up his commitment to suffering sentient beings and sought instead his own welfare, his head would break into ten pieces and his body into a thousand. In a moment of despair at the myriad sufferings of the world, his head and body exploded. The buddha AMITĀBHA put his body back together, crafting one thousand arms and ten heads, placing a duplicate of his own head at the top. This form of Avalokitesvara is therefore known as, "one thousand arms and eleven heads" (phyag stong zhal bcu gcig).
salal-berry ::: n. --> The edible fruit of the Gaultheria Shallon, an ericaceous shrub found from California northwards. The berries are about the size of a common grape and of a dark purple color.
sea sandpiper ::: --> The purple sandpiper.
soldierwood ::: n. --> A showy leguminous plant (Calliandra purpurea) of the West Indies. The flowers have long tassels of purple stamens.
standergrass ::: n. --> A plant (Orchis mascula); -- called also standerwort, and long purple. See Long purple, under Long.
Takuan Soho. (沢庵宗彭) (1573-1645). Japanese ZEN master in the RINZAISHu, especially known for his treatments of Zen and sword fighting. A native of Tajima in Hyogo prefecture, he was ordained at a young age and later became a disciple of Shun'oku Soon (1529-1611) at Sangen'in, a subtemple of the monastery DAITOKUJI, who gave him the name Soho. In 1599, Takuan followed Shun'oku to the Zuiganji in Shiga prefecture, but later returned to Sangen'in. In 1601, Takuan visited Ito Shoteki (1539-1612) and became his disciple. In 1607, Takuan was appointed first seat (daiichiza) at DAITOKUJI, but he opted to reside at Tokuzenji and Nanshuji, instead. Takuan was appointed abbot of Daitokuji in 1609, but again he quickly abandoned this position. Takuan later became involved in a political incident (the so-called purple-robe incident; J. shi'e jiken), which led to the forced abdication of Emperor Gomizunoo (r. 1611-1629) and in 1629 to Takuan's exile to Kaminoyama in Uzen (present-day Yamagata prefecture). Takuan had befriended Yagyu Munenori (1571-1646), the swordsman and personal instructor to the shogun, and while he was in exile composed for him the FUDoCHI SHINMYoROKU ("Record of the Mental Sublimity of Immovable Wisdom"). This treatise on Zen and sword fighting draws on the concept of no-mind (J. mushin; C. WUXIN) from the LIUZU TAN JING ("Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch") to demonstrate the proper method of mind training incumbent on adepts in both the martial arts and Zen meditation. Takuan later returned to Edo (present-day Tokyo) and, with the support of prominent patrons, became the founding abbot of Tokaiji in nearby Shinagawa in 1638. He died at the capital in 1645.
The abdominal centre, svadhijihana, commanding the small vital movements, the little creeds, lusts, desires, the small sense- movements, governs the lower vital. (Colour ::: deep purple red ; petals ::: six.)
"The colours of the lotuses and the numbers of petals are respectively, from bottom to top: — (1) the Muladhara or physical consciousness centre, four petals, red; (2) the abdominal centre, six petals, deep purple red; (3) the navel centre, ten petals, violet; (4) the heart centre, twelve petals, golden pink; (5) the throat centre, sixteen petals, grey; (6) the forehead centre between the eye-brows, two petals, white; (7) the thousand-petalled lotus above the head, blue with gold light around. The functions are, according to our yoga, — (1) commanding the physical consciousness and the subconscient; (2) commanding the small vital movements, the little greeds, lusts, desires, the small sense-movements; (3) commanding the larger life-forces and the passions and larger desire-movements; (4) commanding the higher emotional being with the psychic deep behind it; (5) commanding expression and all externalisation of the mind movements and mental forces; (6) commanding thought, will, vision; (7) commanding the higher thinking mind and the illumined mind and opening upwards to the intuition and overmind. The seventh is sometimes or by some identified with the brain, but that is an error — the brain is only a channel of communication situated between the thousand-petalled and the forehead centre. The former is sometimes called the void centre, sunya , either because it is not in the body, but in the apparent void above or because rising above the head one enters first into the silence of the self or spiritual being.” Letters on Yoga*
“The colours of the lotuses and the numbers of petals are respectively, from bottom to top:—(1) the Muladhara or physical consciousness centre, four petals, red; (2) the abdominal centre, six petals, deep purple red; (3) the navel centre, ten petals, violet; (4) the heart centre, twelve petals, golden pink; (5) the throat centre, sixteen petals, grey; (6) the forehead centre between the eye-brows, two petals, white; (7) the thousand-petalled lotus above the head, blue with gold light around. The functions are, according to our yoga,—(1) commanding the physical consciousness and the subconscient; (2) commanding the small vital movements, the little greeds, lusts, desires, the small sense-movements; (3) commanding the larger life-forces and the passions and larger desire-movements; (4) commanding the higher emotional being with the psychic deep behind it; (5) commanding expression and all externalisation of the mind movements and mental forces; (6) commanding thought, will, vision; (7) commanding the higher thinking mind and the illumined mind and opening upwards to the intuition and overmind. The seventh is sometimes or by some identified with the brain, but that is an error—the brain is only a channel of communication situated between the thousand-petalled and the forehead centre. The former is sometimes called the void centre, sunya , either because it is not in the body, but in the apparent void above or because rising above the head one enters first into the silence of the self or spiritual being.” Letters on Yoga
T'ongdosa. (通度寺). In Korean, "Breakthrough Monastery" (lit. "Penetrating Crossing-Over Monastery"); the fifteenth district monastery (PONSA) in the contemporary CHOGYE CHONG of Korean Buddhism, located at the base of Yongch'uksan (S. GṚDHRAKutAPARVATA, or Vulture Peak) in Yangsan, South Kyongsang province. Along with HAEINSA and SONGGWANGSA, T'ongdosa is one of the "three-jewel monasteries" (SAMBO SACH'AL) that represent one of the three jewels (RATNATRAYA) of Buddhism; T'ONGDOSA is the buddha-jewel monastery (pulbo sach'al), because of its ordination platform and the relics (K. sari; S. sARĪRA) of the Buddha enshrined in back of its main shrine hall (TAEUNG CHoN). The oldest of the three-jewel monasteries, T'ongdosa has long been regarded as the center of Buddhist disciplinary studies (VINAYA) in Korea, and has been one of the major sites of ordination ceremonies since the Unified Silla period (668-935). Relics, reputed to be those of the Buddha himself, are enshrined at the monastery, and its taeung chon is famous for being one of four in Korea that does not enshrine an image of the Buddha; instead, a window at the back of the main hall, where the image ordinarily would be placed, looks out on the Diamond Ordination Platform (Kŭmgang kyedan), which includes a reliquary (STuPA) that enshrines the Buddha's relics. This focus on vinaya and the presence of these relics, both of which are reminders of the Buddha, have led the monastery to be designated the buddha-jewel monastery of Korea. T'ongdosa is said to have been established by the vinaya master CHAJANG (608-686) in 646 to enshrine a portion of the relics that he brought back with him from his sojourn into China. While on pilgrimage at WUTAISHAN, Chajang had an encounter with the bodhisattva MANJUsRĪ, who entrusted Chajang with a gold studded monk's robe (K. kasa; S. KAsĀYA) wrapped in purple silk gauze, one hundred pieces of relics of the Buddha's skull bone and his finger joint, beads, and sutras. One portion of the relics was enshrined together with the Buddha's robe in a bell-shaped stone stupa at the center of the Diamond Ordination Platform; another portion was enshrined in the nine-story pagoda at HWANGNYONGSA in the Silla capital of Kyongju. Under Chajang's leadership, the monastery grew into a major center of Silla Buddhism and the monastery continued to thrive throughout the Silla and Koryo dynasties, until the whole monastery except the taeung chon was destroyed by invading Japanese troops in the late sixteenth century. In 1641, the monk Uun (d.u.) rebuilt the monastery in its current configuration. The Diamond Ordination Platform was periodically damaged during the sporadic Japanese invasions that occurred during the Choson dynasty. In the fourth month of 1377, Japanese pirates invaded, seeking to plunder the sarīra; to keep them from falling into Japanese hands, the abbot went into hiding with the relics. Two years later, on the fifteenth day of the fifth month of 1379, the pirates came again, and the monks quickly whisked away the relics and hid them deep in the forest behind the monastery. The Japanese went in pursuit of the relics, but the abbot Wolsong (d.u.) took them to Seoul to keep them safe, returning with them once the danger had passed. During the Hideyoshi Invasions in the late sixteenth century, the relics were also removed in order to keep them safe. SAMYoNG YUJoNG, who was leading a monk's militia fighting the Japanese invaders, sent the relics to the Diamond Mountains (KŬMGANGSAN) in the north, where his teacher and the supreme commander, CH'oNGHo HYUJoNG, was staying. Hyujong decided that the relics were no safer there than back at their home monastery, so he returned them to T'ongdosa. Yujong covered the hiding place of the relics with weeds and thorn bushes and, once the Japanese threat was rebuffed, he restored the site to its former glory and the relics were reenshrined in 1603. The platform was repaired again in 1653 and on a grand scale in 1705. The Diamond Ordination Platform remains the site where BHIKsU and BHIKsUnĪ ordinations are held in Korea. In 1972, T'ongdosa was elevated to the status of an ecumenical monastery (CH'ONGNIM), and is one of the five such centers in the contemporary Chogye order, which are all expected to provide training in the full range of practices that exemplify the major strands of the Korean Buddhist tradition; the monastery is thus also known as the Yongch'uk Ch'ongnim.
trabea ::: n. --> A toga of purple, or ornamented with purple horizontal stripes. -- worn by kings, consuls, and augurs.
Triangle ::: A color badge worn on the clothes of a concentration camp inmate that disclosed the reason for his incarceration. Green triangles were for criminals; yellow triangles were for Jews; red triangles for political prisoners; purple triangles for Jehovah's Witnesses; pink triangles for homosexuals; black triangles for Roma (Gypsies) and "asocials"; and blue triangles for emigrants.
tubipora ::: n. --> A genus of halcyonoids in which the skeleton, or coral (called organ-pipe coral), consists of a mass of parallel cylindrical tubes united at intervals by transverse plates. These corals are usually red or purple and form large masses. They are natives of the tropical parts of the Indian and Pacific Oceans.
turnsole ::: a. --> A plant of the genus Heliotropium; heliotrope; -- so named because its flowers are supposed to turn toward the sun.
The sunflower.
A kind of spurge (Euphorbia Helioscopia).
The euphorbiaceous plant Chrozophora tinctoria.
Litmus.
A purple dye obtained from the plant turnsole. See def. 1 (d).
tyrian ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to Tyre or its people.
Being of the color called Tyrian purple. ::: n. --> A native of Tyre.
Ulfilas [from Gothic wulfila little wolf] A Gothic Christian bishop (311-81) who translated the Bible into Gothic, thus preserving the Gothic tongue even to our day. For his translation he invented a written alphabet by building upon the Greek alphabet and supplementing it for some of the Gothic runes. The principal manuscripts of his translation are preserved at the University of Upsala, called the Codex Argenteus (Silver Codex), as it is written in silver characters on a purple ground.
ursula ::: n. --> A beautiful North American butterfly (Basilarchia, / Limenitis, astyanax). Its wings are nearly black with red and blue spots and blotches. Called also red-spotted purple.
violaceous ::: a. --> Resembling violets in color; bluish purple.
Of or pertaining to a natural order of plants, of which the violet is the type. It contains about twenty genera and two hundred and fifty species.
violet ::: n. --> Any plant or flower of the genus Viola, of many species. The violets are generally low, herbaceous plants, and the flowers of many of the species are blue, while others are white or yellow, or of several colors, as the pansy (Viola tricolor).
The color of a violet, or that part of the spectrum farthest from red. It is the most refrangible part of the spectrum.
In art, a color produced by a combination of red and blue in equal proportions; a bluish purple color.
was purple. “To such creatures in literature,”
willow-herb ::: n. --> A perennial herb (Epilobium spicatum) with narrow willowlike leaves and showy rose-purple flowers. The name is sometimes made to include other species of the same genus.
wineberry ::: n. --> The red currant.
The bilberry.
A peculiar New Zealand shrub (Coriaria ruscifolia), in which the petals ripen and afford an abundant purple juice from which a kind of wine is made. The plant also grows in Chili.
Wizard Book "publication" {Hal Abelson}, {Gerald Sussman} and Julie Sussman's "Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs" (MIT Press, 1984; ISBN 0-262-01077-1), an excellent computer science text used in introductory courses at MIT. So called because of the wizard on the jacket. One of the {bibles} of the LISP/Scheme world. Also, less commonly, known as the {Purple Book}. [{Jargon File}] (1995-01-10)
Wizard Book ::: (publication) Hal Abelson, Gerald Sussman and Julie Sussman's Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs (MIT Press, 1984; ISBN 0-262-01077-1), called because of the wizard on the jacket. One of the bibles of the LISP/Scheme world. Also, less commonly, known as the Purple Book.[Jargon File] (1995-01-10)
Xuefeng Yicun. (J. Seppo Gison; K. Solbong Ŭijon 雪峰義存) (822-908). Chinese CHAN master in the lineage of QINGYUAN XINGSI (d. 740); a native of Min (presentday Fujian province). He was ordained at the age of seventeen and given the dharma name Yicun, but temporarily returned to lay clothing during the severe persecution of the HUICHANG FANAN and studied under Furong Lingxun (d.u.). After a brief stay with DONGSHAN LIANGJIE, Xuefeng left at Dongshan's direction to study with DESHAN XUANJIAN (780/2-865). Xuefeng then embarked on a journey with his colleagues Yantou Quanhuo (828-887) and Qinshan Wensui (d.u.). With the help of Yantou, Xuefeng is said to have had his first awakening experience during a snowfall on Mt. Ao in Hunan. Xuefeng and Yantou became Deshan's leading disciples. Xuefeng later established a monastery with the support of the king of Min on what came to be known as Mt. Xuefeng in Fujian province. The mountain was originally known as Mt. Xianggu (Elephant Bone) but acquired its new name after a famous exchange at the mountain between the king of Min and the monk Xuefeng. Xuefeng's monastery was given the name Chongshengsi and Yingtian Xuefeng Chanyuan. In 882, Emperor Xizong (r. 873-888) bestowed upon him the title Great Master Zhenjue (Authentic Enlightenment) and the purple robe. His disciples include YUNMEN WENYAN (the founder of the YUNMEN ZONG of the classical Chan school), XUANSHA SHIBEI (whose students eventually would go on to establish the FAYAN ZONG), Changjing Huileng (854-932), Baofu Congzhan (d. 928), and Gushan Shenyan (d. 943). His teachings are recorded in his Xuefeng Zhenjue chanshi yulu.
Yangshan Huiji. (J. Gyozan/Kyozan Ejaku; K. Angsan Hyejok 仰山慧寂) (807-883). Chinese CHAN master and patriarch of the GUIYANG ZONG [alt. Weiyang zong]. Yangshan was a native of Shaozhou prefecture in present-day Guangdong province. According to his biography, Yangshan's first attempt to enter the monastery at age fifteen failed because his parents refused to give their required permission. Two years later he cut off two of his fingers as a sign of his resolve to become a monk and became a sRĀMAnERA under the guidance of Chan master Tong (d.u.) of Nanhuasi. After he received his monastic precepts, Yangshan studied the VINAYAPItAKA. Yangshan is said to have received the teachings of the circle diagrams from Danyuan Yingzhen (d.u.), and he later became a disciple of Chan master GUISHAN LINGYOU after serving him for fifteen years. He later moved to Mt. Yang in Yuanzhou prefecture (present-day Jiangxi province), whence he acquired his toponym, and established a name for himself as a Chan master. Yangshan later moved to Mt. Dongping in his hometown of Shaozhou, where he passed away in the year 883 (alternative dates for his death are 916 and 891). He was posthumously honored with the title Dengxu dashi (Great Master Clear Vacuity) and a purple robe. He was also named Great Master Zhitong (Penetration of Wisdom). His teachings are recorded in the Yuanzhou Yangshan Huiji chanshi yulu. The names of the mountains on which Yangshan and his teacher Guishan resided were used in compound to designate their lineage, the Guiyang.
yellow wire (IBM) Repair wires used when connectors (especially ribbon connectors) got broken due to some schlemiel pinching them, or to reconnect cut traces after the field engineer mistakenly cut one. Compare {blue wire}, {purple wire}, {red wire}. [{Jargon File}]
yellow wire ::: (IBM) Repair wires used when connectors (especially ribbon connectors) got broken due to some schlemiel pinching them, or to reconnect cut traces after the field engineer mistakenly cut one. Compare blue wire, purple wire, red wire.[Jargon File]
zuchetto ::: n. --> A skullcap covering the tonsure, worn under the berretta. The pope&
KEYS (10k)
9 Sri Aurobindo
2 Kobayashi Issa
1 Mansei Manyoshu
1 Joseph Campbell
1 The Mother
1 Epictetus
NEW FULL DB (2.4M)
46 Emily Dickinson
21 Rick Riordan
20 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
19 Anonymous
19 Alice Walker
15 Carl Sandburg
12 Terry Pratchett
12 Stephen King
11 William Shakespeare
11 J K Rowling
11 Charles Dickens
10 Amy Lowell
8 William Butler Yeats
8 Leigh Bardugo
8 Lauren Oliver
8 Jim Butcher
7 Seth Godin
7 Richelle Mead
7 Marcus Aurelius
7 Edgar Allan Poe
1:Seek to be the purple thread in the long white gown. ~ Epictetus, #KEYS
2:as the moon
recedes in the west
purple dawn
~ Mansei Manyoshu, @BashoSociety#KEYS
3:upon purple clouds
when do I set sail?
western sea
~ Kobayashi Issa, @BashoSociety#KEYS
4:upon purple clouds
when do I set sail?
western sea
~ Kobayashi Issa, @BashoSociety#KEYS
5:A blaze of his sovereign glory is the sun,
A glory is the gold and glimmering moon,
A glory is his dream of purple sky. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Debate of Love and Death,#KEYS
6:Life with her wine-cup of longing under the purple of her tenture,
Death as her gate of escape and rebirth and renewal of venture. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems, Ahana,#KEYS
7:Day was a purple pageant and a hymn,
A wave of the laughter of light from morn to eve. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Joy of Union; the Ordeal of the Foreknowledge of Death and the Heart's Grief and Pain,#KEYS
8:A Woman sat in gold and purple sheen,
Armed with the trident and the thunderbolt,
Her feet upon a couchant lion's back. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, 07.04 - The Triple Soul-Forces,#KEYS
9:Day came, priest of a sacrifice of joy
Into the worshipping silence of her world;
He carried immortal lustre as his robe,
Trailed heaven like a purple scarf and wore
As his vermilion caste-mark a red sun. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Finding of the Soul,#KEYS
10:Apotheosised, transfigured by wisdom's touch,
Her days became a luminous sacrifice;
An immortal moth in happy and endless fire,
She burned in his sweet intolerable blaze.
A captive Life wedded her conqueror.
In his wide sky she built her world anew;
She gave to mind's calm pace the motor's speed,
To thinking a need to live what the soul saw,
To living an impetus to know and see.
His splendour grasped her, her puissance to him clung;
She crowned the Idea a king in purple robes,
Put her magic serpent sceptre in Thought's grip,
Made forms his inward vision's rhythmic shapes
And her acts the living body of his will.
A flaming thunder, a creator flash,
His victor Light rode on her deathless Force;
~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Glory and the Fall of Life,#KEYS
11:When I was a child of about thirteen, for nearly a year every night as soon as I had gone to bed it seemed to me that I went out of my body and rose straight up above the house, then above the city, very high above. Then I used to see myself clad in a magnificent golden robe, much longer than myself; and as I rose higher, the robe would stretch, spreading out in a circle around me to form a kind of immense roof over the city. Then I would see men, women, children, old men, the sick, the unfortunate coming out from every side; they would gather under the outspread robe, begging for help, telling of their miseries, their suffering, their hardships. In reply, the robe, supple and alive, would extend towards each one of them individually, and as soon as they had touched it, they were comforted or healed, and went back into their bodies happier and stronger than they had come out of them. Nothing seemed more beautiful to me, nothing could make me happier; and all the activities of the day seemed dull and colourless and without any real life, beside this activity of the night which was the true life for me. Often while I was rising up in this way, I used to see at my left an old man, silent and still, who looked at me with kindly affection and encouraged me by his presence. This old man, dressed in a long dark purple robe, was the personification-as I came to know later-of him who is called the Man of Sorrows. ~ The Mother, Prayers And Meditations, #KEYS
12:As far as heaven, as near as thought and hope,
Glimmered the kingdom of a griefless life.
Above him in a new celestial vault
Other than the heavens beheld by mortal eyes,
As on a fretted ceiling of the gods,
An archipelago of laughter and fire,
Swam stars apart in a rippled sea of sky.
Towered spirals, magic rings of vivid hue
And gleaming spheres of strange felicity
Floated through distance like a symbol world.
On the trouble and the toil they could not share,
On the unhappiness they could not aid,
Impervious to life's suffering, struggle, grief,
Untarnished by its anger, gloom and hate,
Unmoved, untouched, looked down great visioned planes
Blissful for ever in their timeless right.
Absorbed in their own beauty and content,
Of their immortal gladness they live sure.
Apart in their self-glory plunged, remote
Burning they swam in a vague lucent haze,
An everlasting refuge of dream-light,
A nebula of the splendours of the gods
Made from the musings of eternity.
Almost unbelievable by human faith,
Hardly they seemed the stuff of things that are.
As through a magic television's glass
Outlined to some magnifying inner eye
They shone like images thrown from a far scene
Too high and glad for mortal lids to seize.
But near and real to the longing heart
And to the body's passionate thought and sense
Are the hidden kingdoms of beatitude.
In some close unattained realm which yet we feel,
Immune from the harsh clutch of Death and Time,
Escaping the search of sorrow and desire,
In bright enchanted safe peripheries
For ever wallowing in bliss they lie.
In dream and trance and muse before our eyes,
Across a subtle vision's inner field,
Wide rapturous landscapes fleeting from the sight,
The figures of the perfect kingdom pass
And behind them leave a shining memory's trail.
Imagined scenes or great eternal worlds,
Dream-caught or sensed, they touch our hearts with their depths;
Unreal-seeming, yet more real than life,
Happier than happiness, truer than things true,
If dreams these were or captured images,
Dream's truth made false earth's vain realities.
In a swift eternal moment fixed there live
Or ever recalled come back to longing eyes
Calm heavens of imperishable Light,
Illumined continents of violet peace,
Oceans and rivers of the mirth of God
And griefless countries under purple suns.
~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Glory and the Fall of Life,#KEYS
13:Mother of Dreams :::
Goddess supreme, Mother of Dream, by thy ivory doors when thou standest,
Who are they then that come down unto men in thy visions that troop, group upon group, down the path of the shadows slanting?
Dream after dream, they flash and they gleam with the flame of the stars still around them;
Shadows at thy side in a darkness ride where the wild fires dance, stars glow and glance and the random meteor glistens;
There are voices that cry to their kin who reply; voices sweet, at the heart they beat and ravish the soul as it listens.
What then are these lands and these golden sands and these seas more radiant than earth can imagine?
Who are those that pace by the purple waves that race to the cliff-bound floor of thy jasper shore under skies in which mystery muses,
Lapped in moonlight not of our night or plunged in sunshine that is not diurnal?
Who are they coming thy Oceans roaming with sails whose strands are not made by hands, an unearthly wind advances?
Why do they join in a mystic line with those on the sands linking hands in strange and stately dances?
Thou in the air, with a flame in thy hair, the whirl of thy wonders watching,
Holdest the night in thy ancient right, Mother divine, hyacinthine, with a girdle of beauty defended.
Sworded with fire, attracting desire, thy tenebrous kingdom thou keepest,
Starry-sweet, with the moon at thy feet, now hidden now seen the clouds between in the gloom and the drift of thy tresses.
Only to those whom thy fancy chose, O thou heart-free, is it given to see thy witchcraft and feel thy caresses.
Open the gate where thy children wait in their world of a beauty undarkened.
High-throned on a cloud, victorious, proud I have espied Maghavan ride when the armies of wind are behind him;
Food has been given for my tasting from heaven and fruit of immortal sweetness;
I have drunk wine of the kingdoms divine and have healed the change of music strange from a lyre which our hands cannot master,
Doors have swung wide in the chambers of pride where the Gods reside and the Apsaras dance in their circles faster and faster.
For thou art she whom we first can see when we pass the bounds of the mortal;
There at the gates of the heavenly states thou hast planted thy wand enchanted over the head of the Yogin waving.
From thee are the dream and the shadows that seem and the fugitive lights that delude us;
Thine is the shade in which visions are made; sped by thy hands from celestial lands come the souls that rejoice for ever.
Into thy dream-worlds we pass or look in thy magic glass, then beyond thee we climb out of Space and Time to the peak of divine endeavour. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems,#KEYS
14:O Death, thou lookst on an unfinished world
Assailed by thee and of its road unsure,
Peopled by imperfect minds and ignorant lives,
And sayest God is not and all is vain.
How shall the child already be the man?
Because he is infant, shall he never grow?
Because he is ignorant, shall he never learn?
In a small fragile seed a great tree lurks,
In a tiny gene a thinking being is shut;
A little element in a little sperm,
It grows and is a conqueror and a sage.
Then wilt thou spew out, Death, God's mystic truth,
Deny the occult spiritual miracle?
Still wilt thou say there is no spirit, no God?
A mute material Nature wakes and sees;
She has invented speech, unveiled a will.
Something there waits beyond towards which she strives,
Something surrounds her into which she grows:
To uncover the spirit, to change back into God,
To exceed herself is her transcendent task.
In God concealed the world began to be,
Tardily it travels towards manifest God:
Our imperfection towards perfection toils,
The body is the chrysalis of a soul:
The infinite holds the finite in its arms,
Time travels towards revealed eternity.
A miracle structure of the eternal Mage,
Matter its mystery hides from its own eyes,
A scripture written out in cryptic signs,
An occult document of the All-Wonderful's art.
All here bears witness to his secret might,
In all we feel his presence and his power.
A blaze of his sovereign glory is the sun,
A glory is the gold and glimmering moon,
A glory is his dream of purple sky.
A march of his greatness are the wheeling stars.
His laughter of beauty breaks out in green trees,
His moments of beauty triumph in a flower;
The blue sea's chant, the rivulet's wandering voice
Are murmurs falling from the Eternal's harp.
This world is God fulfilled in outwardness.
His ways challenge our reason and our sense;
By blind brute movements of an ignorant Force,
By means we slight as small, obscure or base,
A greatness founded upon little things,
He has built a world in the unknowing Void.
His forms he has massed from infinitesimal dust;
His marvels are built from insignificant things.
If mind is crippled, life untaught and crude,
If brutal masks are there and evil acts,
They are incidents of his vast and varied plot,
His great and dangerous drama's needed steps;
He makes with these and all his passion-play,
A play and yet no play but the deep scheme
Of a transcendent Wisdom finding ways
To meet her Lord in the shadow and the Night:
Above her is the vigil of the stars;
Watched by a solitary Infinitude
She embodies in dumb Matter the Divine,
In symbol minds and lives the Absolute.
~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Debate of Love and Death,#KEYS
15:Apotheosis ::: One of the most powerful and beloved of the Bodhisattvas of the Mahayana Buddhism of Tibet, China, and Japan is the Lotus Bearer, Avalokiteshvara, "The Lord Looking Down in Pity," so called because he regards with compassion all sentient creatures suffering the evils of existence. To him goes the millionfold repeated prayer of the prayer wheels and temple gongs of Tibet: Om mani padme hum, "The jewel is in the lotus." To him go perhaps more prayers per minute than to any single divinity known to man; for when, during his final life on earth as a human being, he shattered for himself the bounds of the last threshold (which moment opened to him the timelessness of the void beyond the frustrating mirage-enigmas of the named and bounded cosmos), he paused: he made a vow that before entering the void he would bring all creatures without exception to enlightenment; and since then he has permeated the whole texture of existence with the divine grace of his assisting presence, so that the least prayer addressed to him, throughout the vast spiritual empire of the Buddha, is graciously heard. Under differing forms he traverses the ten thousand worlds, and appears in the hour of need and prayer. He reveals himself in human form with two arms, in superhuman forms with four arms, or with six, or twelve, or a thousand, and he holds in one of his left hands the lotus of the world.
Like the Buddha himself, this godlike being is a pattern of the divine state to which the human hero attains who has gone beyond the last terrors of ignorance. "When the envelopment of consciousness has been annihilated, then he becomes free of all fear, beyond the reach of change." This is the release potential within us all, and which anyone can attain-through herohood; for, as we read: "All things are Buddha-things"; or again (and this is the other way of making the same statement) : "All beings are without self."
The world is filled and illumined by, but does not hold, the Bodhisattva ("he whose being is enlightenment"); rather, it is he who holds the world, the lotus. Pain and pleasure do not enclose him, he encloses them-and with profound repose. And since he is what all of us may be, his presence, his image, the mere naming of him, helps. "He wears a garland of eight thousand rays, in which is seen fully reflected a state of perfect beauty.
The color of his body is purple gold. His palms have the mixed color of five hundred lotuses, while each finger tip has eighty-four thousand signet-marks, and each mark eighty-four thousand colors; each color has eighty-four thousand rays which are soft and mild and shine over all things that exist. With these jewel hands he draws and embraces all beings. The halo surrounding his head is studded with five hundred Buddhas, miraculously transformed, each attended by five hundred Bodhisattvas, who are attended, in turn, by numberless gods. And when he puts his feet down to the ground, the flowers of diamonds and jewels that are scattered cover everything in all directions. The color of his face is gold. While in his towering crown of gems stands a Buddha, two hundred and fifty miles high." - Amitayur-Dhyana Sutra, 19; ibid., pp. 182-183. ~ Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Apotheosis,#KEYS
*** WISDOM TROVE ***
1:purple does something strange to me ~ charles-bukowski, @wisdomtrove 2:Philosophy: a purple bullfinch in a lilac tree. ~ t-s-eliot, @wisdomtrove 3:Womanist is to feminist as purple is to lavender. ~ alice-walker, @wisdomtrove 4:Purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath. ~ elizabeth-barrett-browning, @wisdomtrove 5:Virtue shows quite as well in rags and patches as she does in purple and fine linen. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove 6:I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. ~ alice-walker, @wisdomtrove 7:Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door. ~ emily-dickinson, @wisdomtrove 8:But doing that job, surviving it, was like getting a Purple Heart. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. ~ kurt-vonnegut, @wisdomtrove 9:The key to success is to find a way to stand out& 10:The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head And became Tyrant in his stead. ~ william-blake, @wisdomtrove 11:When I was five years old I was on a merry go round. There was a gunshot nearby. The horses stampeded. There I was running down the street on a purple wooden horse. ~ steven-wright, @wisdomtrove 12:When it comes to racism, you hear people say, "I don't care if people are white, black, purple or green." Hold on, now, purple or green? Come on now, you gotta draw the line somewhere. ~ mitch-hedberg, @wisdomtrove 13:Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the Emperors signed their names in green ink when under age, but when of age, in purple. ~ henry-wadsworth-longfellow, @wisdomtrove 14:Dance and Provencal song and sunburnt mirth! On for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene! With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth. ~ john-keats, @wisdomtrove 15:Genius is talent provided with ideals. Genius starves while talent wears purple and fine linen. The man of genius of today will infifty years' time be in most cases no more than a man of talent. ~ william-somerset-maugham, @wisdomtrove 16:Not one of all the purple host Who took the flag to-day Can tell the definition So clear of victory, As he, defeated, dying, On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Break agonized and clear. ~ emily-dickinson, @wisdomtrove 17:I try to avoid purple patches, fine writing, all that kind of thing... because I think they're a mistake. And then sometimes it comes through and sometimes it doesn't, but that's not up to me. It's up to chance. ~ jorge-luis-borges, @wisdomtrove 18:I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~ alice-walker, @wisdomtrove 19:and then he could not see her come into a room without a sense of the flowing of robes, of the flowering of blossoms, of the purple waves of the sea, of all things that are lovely and mutable on the surface but still and passionate in their heart. ~ virginia-woolf, @wisdomtrove 20:Nature is sanative, refining, elevating. How cunningly she hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses, and violets, and morning dew! Every inch of the mountains is scarred by unimaginable convulsions, yet the new day is purple with the bloom of youth and love. ~ ralph-waldo-emerson, @wisdomtrove 21:To put is still more plainly: the desire for security and the feeling of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your breath is to lose your breath. A society based on the quest for security is nothing but a breath-retention contest in which everyone is as taut as a drum and as purple as a beet. ~ alan-watts, @wisdomtrove 22:Subpersonalities can exist at different levels or memes, however, so that one can indeed have a purple subpersonality, a blue subpersonality, and so on. These often are context-triggered, so that one can have quite different types of moral responses, affects, needs, etc., in different situations. ~ ken-wilber, @wisdomtrove 23:But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them, With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them. ~ ogden-nash, @wisdomtrove 24:An altered look about the hills; A Tyrian light the village fills; A wider sunrise in the dawn; A deeper twilight on the lawn; A print of a vermilion foot; A purple finger on the slope; A flippant fly upon the pane; A spider at his trade again; An added strut in chanticleer; A flower expected everywhere. ~ emily-dickinson, @wisdomtrove 25:And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me ‚ filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door ‚ Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; ‚ This it is, and nothing more. ~ edgar-allan-poe, @wisdomtrove 26:But if the cow is purple, you'd notice it, OK? The thing that's going to decide what gets talked about, what gets done, what gets changed, what gets purchased, what gets built is, is it remarkable? And remarkable's a really cool word 'cause we think it just means neat, but it also means worth making a remark about, and that is the essence of where idea diffusion is going. ~ seth-godin, @wisdomtrove 27:Whether we be Italians or Frenchmen, misery concerns us all. Ever since history has been written, ever since philosophy has meditated, misery has been the garment of the human race; the moment has at length arrived for tearing off that rag, and for replacing, upon the naked limbs of the Man-People, the sinister fragment of the past with the grand purple robe of the dawn. ~ victor-hugo, @wisdomtrove 28:Seeing the lightest and gayest purple was then most in fashion, he would always wear that which was the nearest black; and he would often go out of doors, after his morning meal, without either shoes or tunic; not that he sought vain-glory from such novelties, but he would accustom himself to be ashamed only of what deserves shame, and to despise all other sorts of disgrace. ~ plutarch, @wisdomtrove 29:Certainly the effort to remain unchanged, young, when the body gives so impressive a signal of change as the menopause, is gallant; but it is a stupid, self-sacrificial gallantry, better befitting a boy of twenty than a woman of forty-five or fifty. Let the athletes die young and laurel-crowned. Let the soldiers earn the Purple Hearts. Let women die old, white-crowned, with human hearts. ~ ursula-k-le-guin, @wisdomtrove 30:One of the most satisfying experiences I know is fully to appreciate an individual in the same way I appreciate a sunset. When I look at a sunset... I don't find myself saying, & 31:Upon the purple tree-tops far away, and on the green height near at hand up which the shades were slowly creeping, there was an equal hush. Between the real landscape and its shadow in the water, there was no division; both were so untroubled and clear, and, while so fraught with solemn mystery of life and death, so hopefully reassuring to the gazer's soothed heart, because so tenderly and mercifully beautiful. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove 32:If we Americans are to survive it will have to be because we choose and elect and defend to be first of all Americans; to present to the world one homogeneous and unbroken front, whether of white Americans or black ones or purple or blue or green. If we in America have reached that point in our desperate culture when we must murder children, no matter for what reason or what color, we don't deserve to survive, and probably won t. ~ william-faulkner, @wisdomtrove 33:If we Americans are to survive it will have to be because we choose and elect and defend to be first of all Americans; to present to the world one homogeneous and unbroken front, whether of white Americans or black ones or purple or blue or green... If we in America have reached that point in our desperate culture when we must murder children, no matter for what reason or what color, we don't deserve to survive, and probably won't. ~ william-faulkner, @wisdomtrove 34:It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet... . As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye... ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. ~ washington-irving, @wisdomtrove 35:Listen, God love everything you love - and a mess of stuff you don't. But more than anything else, God love admiration. You saying God vain? I ast. Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. What it do when it pissed off? I ast. Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~ alice-walker, @wisdomtrove 36:When the Gauls laid waste Rome, they found the senators clothed in their robes, and seated in stern tranquillity in their curule chairs; in this manner they suffered death without resistance or supplication. Such conduct was in them applauded as noble and magnanimous; in the hapless Indians it was reviled as both obstinate and sullen. How truly are we the dupes of show and circumstances! How different is virtue, clothed in purple and enthroned in state, from virtue, naked and destitute, and perishing obscurely in a wilderness. ~ washington-irving, @wisdomtrove 37:There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary. ~ henry-wadsworth-longfellow, @wisdomtrove *** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***
1:purple pansies ~ Carol Ryrie Brink, #NFDB
2:zacatecas purple. That ~ Joseph Flynn, #NFDB
3:p{ color: purple !important ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
4:i love purple and blue!!!!! ~ Alyson Noel, #NFDB
5:purple bible-o’-madness ~ Esm Weijun Wang, #NFDB
6:Black is not as good as Purple. ~ Ralph Lauren, #NFDB
7:Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple, ~ Amy Lowell, #NFDB
8:Purple's my favorite color. ~ Danielle Panabaker, #NFDB
9:Soon the purple dark must bruise ~ Donald Justice, #NFDB
10:Is your underwear purple, too? ~ F Scott Fitzgerald, #NFDB
11:This great purple butterfly, ~ William Butler Yeats, #NFDB
12:I feel just like a purple Pikmin. ~ Reggie Fils Aime, #NFDB
13:purple does something strange to me ~ Charles Bukowski, #NFDB
14:Go and copulate with yon purple lizard. ~ Roger Zelazny, #NFDB
15:I always wanted to get the Purple Heart. ~ Donald Trump, #NFDB
16:I love purple because my name is Amethyst. ~ Iggy Azalea, #NFDB
17:it. A message was written in purple ink: ~ John Sandford, #NFDB
18:Mauve is just pink trying to be purple. ~ James Whistler, #NFDB
19:He Who is wrapped in purple robes, ~ William Butler Yeats, #NFDB
20:Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape ~ John Milton, #NFDB
21:Philosophy: a purple bullfinch in a lilac tree. ~ T S Eliot, #NFDB
22:The ash her purple drops forgivingly ~ James Russell Lowell, #NFDB
23:Inside, each of us has a purple motorcycle. ~ Gloria Steinem, #NFDB
24:Your face looks like a sack of purple potatoes ~ Jim Butcher, #NFDB
25:profusion of fat purple and red cushions. ~ Diane Setterfield, #NFDB
26:Yet another day had faded to a bruised purple. ~ Ania Ahlborn, #NFDB
27:purple tongue, and that the whitish hair that ~ Isabel Allende, #NFDB
28:Once you go purple, baby, you can never go back. ~ Eve Langlais, #NFDB
29:purple is my favorite color that isn’t black, and ~ Jim Butcher, #NFDB
30:womanist is to feminist as purple is to lavender ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
31:Seek to be the purple thread in the long white gown. ~ Epictetus, #NFDB
32:Womanist is to feminist as purple is to lavender. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
33:Seek to be the purple thread in the long white gown. ~ Epictetus, #NFDB
34:[Thou] mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms! ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
35:Purple lipstick? Naw, that looks stupid on all girls! ~ ASAP Rocky, #NFDB
36:lit with purple and yellow bulbs like dingo balls. I ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
37:There are purple grapes in the Land of Git-Thare. ~ Sam Walter Foss, #NFDB
38:Purple prose attracts attention more than converts. ~ Jeffrey Toobin, #NFDB
39:I always wear blue shirts and I like wine or purple ties. ~ Jim Lehrer, #NFDB
40:purple irises from a bucket on Market Street. The ~ Vanessa Diffenbaugh, #NFDB
41:The grape gains its purple tinge by looking at another grape. ~ Juvenal, #NFDB
42:When God made the color purple, God was just showing off. ~ Mae Jemison, #NFDB
43:But, luckily, he kept his wits and his purple crayon. ~ Crockett Johnson, #NFDB
44:Today I found an old friend. –Ed Burns via Purple Violets ~ Edward Burns, #NFDB
45:Crocuses shouted purple and white against the bright grass; ~ Kim Edwards, #NFDB
46:I won't eat any cereal that doesn't turn the milk purple. ~ Bill Watterson, #NFDB
47:as the clouds lit silver, purple, and blue with electricity. ~ Mandy M Roth, #NFDB
48:Night poured over the desert. It came suddenly, in purple. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
49:still quite visible. A purple circle with a cross under it. ~ Oliver P tzsch, #NFDB
50:And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain ~ Edgar Allan Poe, #NFDB
51:I mean, seriously. I really did have a purple pony in my room. ~ Rachel Van Dyken, #NFDB
52:My favorite color is fuschia. That's a fancy way of saying purple. ~ Jane O Connor, #NFDB
53:One day we shall meet under the purple sky, during the magic hour ~ Anamika Mishra, #NFDB
54:The bougainvillea hung about it, purple and magenta, in livid balloons. ~ Anita Desai, #NFDB
55:It wasn’t easy looking dignified wearing a bed sheet and a purple cape. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
56:Womanist is to feminist as purple is to lavender”
-Alice Walker ~ Alice Walker,#NFDB
57:Okay, I write overblown, purple, self-indulgent prose. So fucking what? ~ Angela Carter, #NFDB
58:I don't care if a dude is purple with green breath as long as he can swing. ~ Miles Davis, #NFDB
59:I want to be pure in heart -- but I like to wear my purple dress. ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh, #NFDB
60:I pick up a Prince bobblehead doll. It’s wearing a little purple suit. On ~ Matthew Norman, #NFDB
61:But Alpha, purple is simply not appropiate"
Quinn, Romancing the werewolf ~ Gail Carriger,#NFDB
62:It's the world's smallest violin, playing 'My Heart Pumps Purple Piss for You.' ~ Eddie Dean, #NFDB
63:Oppression at the hands of the man with the purple knee bands. Joy comes softly. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
64:When a soldier is hit by a cannonball, rags are as becoming as purple. ~ Henry David Thoreau, #NFDB
65:It's the world's smallest violin, playing 'My Heart Pumps Purple Piss for You'. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
66:She bruised easily, in dark purple smudges like in blooming on tissue paper. ~ Brenna Yovanoff, #NFDB
67:My favorite color is purple. I have a huge velvet purple comforter on my bed. ~ Meredith Brooks, #NFDB
68:If you see anybody wail and complain, call him a slave, though he be clad in purple. ~ Epictetus, #NFDB
69:I served two tours of duty in Vietnam. I won the Bronze Star. I won the Purple Heart. ~ Ron Kovic, #NFDB
70:Not to be purple, but I've never been a 'bad boy' kind of girl. I like manners. ~ Toks Olagundoye, #NFDB
71:Purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning, #NFDB
72:The sun was now in its death throes, bruising the sky a coiling purple and orange. ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
73:I was a punk before it got its name. I had that hairstyle and purple lipstick. ~ Vivienne Westwood, #NFDB
74:Punch a black belt in the face, he becomes a brown belt. Punch him again, purple. ~ Carlson Gracie, #NFDB
75:The horizon, where the sun was setting, looked like purple fruit drenched in blood. ~ Chris Dietzel, #NFDB
76:Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery, #NFDB
77:Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye. ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
78:New York gave me hell for that 'Purple Swag,' man. They didn't respect me until 'Peso.' ~ ASAP Rocky, #NFDB
79:Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
80:When I write after dark the shades of evening scatter their purple through my prose. ~ Cyril Connolly, #NFDB
81:Lots of noise but behind the hiss of purple rain the silence is cruising like a shark. ~ Russell Hoban, #NFDB
82:The afternoon has closed down, gone purple, coaxed and sucked dark by the storm. ~ Jayne Anne Phillips, #NFDB
83:Virtue shows quite as well in rags and patches as she does in purple and fine linen. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
84:You're a black belt in the 1st round but sometimes you're a purple belt in the 5th. ~ Gilbert Melendez, #NFDB
85:My hat, what a night! Did you ever see a really purple sky and really silver stars before? ~ E M Forster, #NFDB
86:Purple is not only the ‘royal colour’, but is linked to spirituality, and intuition. ~ Storm Constantine, #NFDB
87:I would have kissed you if you were a girl. I would have kissed you if you were purple.” Danny ~ Tara Sim, #NFDB
88:You’re either remarkable or invisible,” says Seth Godin in his 2002 bestseller, Purple Cow. ~ Cal Newport, #NFDB
89:it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
90:purple was supposed to embody a sense of good judgment. On the other, it represented romance. ~ Suza Kates, #NFDB
91:Led Zeppelin. Queen. Deep Purple. These were the bands I listened to. I still listen to them. ~ Yul Vazquez, #NFDB
92:Roses are red, Foxgloves are purple, I appear to have trapped myself, In a linguistic corner". ~ Dave Turner, #NFDB
93:I watched the bruised purple skies of the netherworld broil as my father got his demon kicks. ~ Pippa DaCosta, #NFDB
94:I am happy to be a role model for anybody - whether they are black, white, yellow, pink or purple. ~ Paul Ince, #NFDB
95:If I'm feeling tired, I just say, 'I'm going to paint my nails purple and put some lipstick on!' ~ Emma Watson, #NFDB
96:There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings. ~ W B Yeats,#NFDB
97:Calum offered to paint my nails but I said no because he always uses the wrong shade of purple. ~ Luke Hemmings, #NFDB
98:I once received a cape that was made from the little purple bags that Crown Royal Whisky comes in. ~ Dave Grohl, #NFDB
99:When a man in purple and screaming pink stares at you, you know it's time to change your appearance. ~ Susan Ee, #NFDB
100:Where slumber abbots purple as their wines. ~ Alexander Pope, The Dunciad (1728; 1735; 1743), Book IV, line 301, #NFDB
101:Clemency marvelled, trying a purple eyeshadow shot with gold sparkly bits on the back of her hand ~ Jill Mansell, #NFDB
102:Could he possibly believe a purple tunic over a butler- yellow shirt and scarlet pants became him. ~ Hilari Bell, #NFDB
103:He wrapped himself in quotations - as a beggar would enfold himself in the purple of Emperors. ~ Rudyard Kipling, #NFDB
104:Often a purple patch or two is tacked on to a serious work of high promise, to give an effect of colour. ~ Horace, #NFDB
105:I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
106:I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
107:Draw outside the lines! Make the sky purple instead of blue! That's what it looks like to dreamers! ~ Viola Shipman, #NFDB
108:The window had gone a clear lit purple, dusk that looked like thunder. Fine clouds shifted, restless. ~ Tana French, #NFDB
109:You tell me to bring all the powdered wolf’s bane I have, and, I quote, ‘get my purple ass down here. ~ Meg Collett, #NFDB
110:And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple from him, and put his own clothes on him, and led ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
111:he couldn’t believe he was feeling this way now about a woman with purple hair and a rap sheet. About ~ Laura Griffin, #NFDB
112:Released Stan Shunpike yet?” Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple color highly reminiscent of Uncle Vernon. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
113:When I'm with Purple, I'm totally with Purple; when I'm doing my thing, I'm totally doing my own thing. ~ Tommy Bolin, #NFDB
114:White pill, blue pill, yellow pill, purple pill; its like swallowing a rainbow every bedtime. ~ Amelia Atwater Rhodes, #NFDB
115:Far clouds of feathery gold, Shaded with deepest purple, gleam Like islands on a dark blue sea. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, #NFDB
116:If it’s that a drink, no. If purple snow globe is a secret code word for something naughty, I’m game. ~ Lauren Blakely, #NFDB
117:I struggle immensely with celebrities of all kinds. I get clammy hands and turn a little purple. ~ Bryce Dallas Howard, #NFDB
118:Lady Rowena gasped in horror at the sight of Lord Raoul's majestic purple-helmeted warrior of love. ~ Katie MacAlister, #NFDB
119:There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings. ~ William Butler Yeats, #NFDB
120:Fade to black. Or whatever color you like. If you can find a way to fade to pink or purple, please do. ~ David Levithan, #NFDB
121:rounded blue-grey hills that went smoky and purple at dusk before dissolving into the night sky. When we ~ Paula McLain, #NFDB
122:The key to success is to find a way to stand out--to be the purple cow in a field of monochrome Holsteins. ~ Seth Godin, #NFDB
123:then you saw the vampires, smeared in purple and lime-green sunblock, patrolling those snow-white walls ~ Ilona Andrews, #NFDB
124:Frequent bolts of lightning shot down from the sky, illuminating the purple violence of the roiling clouds. ~ T L Haddix, #NFDB
125:My favorite color right now is purple, but it used to be pink. It's kind of always going to be pink. ~ Kristinia DeBarge, #NFDB
126:The heap of clothes was entirely purple and black, so she threw in a pair of silver sandals to add color. ~ Shannon Hale, #NFDB
127:What's purple mean?" Adrian put his hand on the door. "Gotta go, Sage. Dont want to keep Dorothy waiting ~ Richelle Mead, #NFDB
128:Hood an ass with reverend purple,
...
And he shall pass for a cathedral doctor"
(1. 2. 113-115) ~ Ben Jonson,#NFDB
129:What the fuck is “purple rain”? It’s doggerel, that’s what; nobody has the foggiest idea what purple rain is. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
130:Man's hope can paint a purple picture, can transform a soaring vulture into a noble eagle or moaning dove. ~ Ralph Ellison, #NFDB
131:The contrast of the purple veil and green hat against the neon orange of her hair was like Picasso on crack. ~ Violet Howe, #NFDB
132:When I'm a blonde, I can say the world is purple, and they'll believe me because they weren't listening to me. ~ Kylie Bax, #NFDB
133:I grew up in the Bible Belt and I made my own clothes and dyed my hair purple. Nobody ever knew what to do with me. ~ Kesha, #NFDB
134:Something remarkable is worth talking about. Worth noticing. Exceptional. New. Interesting. It's a Purple Cow. ~ Seth Godin, #NFDB
135:What's purple mean?"
Adrian put his hand on the door. "Gotta go, Sage. Dont want to keep Dorothy waiting ~ Richelle Mead,#NFDB
136:Where’s the creativity, gods? I didn’t see why Death couldn’t have pink. Or purple. What if he liked sparkles? ~ Jaymin Eve, #NFDB
137:Yeah, but they're PURPLE pants," Bobby said as if that made some kind of distinction. "Hence, I'm awesome. ~ Amanda Hocking, #NFDB
138:Man’s hope can paint a purple picture, can transform a soaring vulture into a noble eagle or a moaning dove. ~ Ralph Ellison, #NFDB
139:...the freaky kid was now staring at me with those purple eyes.
Man, I did not like freaky kids. ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,#NFDB
140:Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets. ~ Carl Sandburg, #NFDB
141:...a sea to intensely blue to be looked at, and a sky of purple, set with one great flaming jewel of fire... ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
142:When I write after dark", observed Cyril Connolly, "the shades of evening scatter their purple through my prose ~ Anne Fadiman, #NFDB
143:came from the Salvation Army. It's purple. It's an ugly sofa, Tom." "Then I'll sleep with my eyes closed," he said. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
144:Gary snorted. When he did, little pink and purple sparkles shot out his nose. Being a unicorn is awesome like that. ~ T J Klune, #NFDB
145:The poet who does not revere his art, and believe in its sovereignty, is not born to wear the purple. ~ Edmund Clarence Stedman, #NFDB
146:Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits. ~ Carl Sandburg, #NFDB
147:The corridor smelled of water in the bottoms of purple vases and the piano was banging just beyond this emptiness. ~ John Hawkes, #NFDB
148:There was a lot of purple on the covers. Purple sold scary books better than any other color, Mike had been told. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
149:Think reds, orange, yellows, greens, purple, blue — the darker and deeper the colors, the better they are for you. ~ Rick Warren, #NFDB
150:Day-colored wine, night-colored wine, wine with purple feet or wine with topaz blood, wine, starry child of earth. ~ Pablo Neruda, #NFDB
151:Idiotically, it occurred to me that my pink underwear didn’t match my purple bra, as if boys even notice such things. ~ John Green, #NFDB
152:Three sheets of notebook paper lay on the ground—colorful red pages with purple lines and blue stars in the corners. ~ Bryan Chick, #NFDB
153:Close counts in handguns as well, in my book," Remy argued.
"Your book is written in purple crayon. No one cares. ~ Abigail Roux,#NFDB
154:He [Tinky Winky] is purple - the gay-pride color, and his antenna is shaped like a triangle - the gay pride symbol. ~ Jerry Falwell, #NFDB
155:Oh yeah it does, most definitely it has an ocean, only it's purple, and the sand is blue and the sky is hella green. ~ Jandy Nelson, #NFDB
156:My husband is very supportive and is there for the kids, especially when I'm in projects such as The Color Purple. ~ Heather Headley, #NFDB
157:Nah,' I tell her after a while. 'He is more like a brother, you know?'
The good kind. The kind with the purple teeth. ~ E R Frank,#NFDB
158:Theo’s face turned a deep shade of purple. He seemed completely unnerved by my mother, which I found kind of funny. ~ Melanie Harlow, #NFDB
159:I'm a soldier who didn't know how nasty the battle was going to be, and now, I've got a purple heart and I'm back. ~ Robert Downey Jr, #NFDB
160:I see music in colours. I love music that's black, pink, purple or red - but I hate music that's green, yellow or brown. ~ Charli XCX, #NFDB
161:I think I had a lot of bad hair moments. In the early 80's just sometimes I wore purple lipstick or green lipstick. ~ Madonna Ciccone, #NFDB
162:I want purple trews, lass," Drustan called over the door.
"No," she said irritably.
"And a purple shirt. ~ Karen Marie Moning,#NFDB
163:My character was obnoxious, had stinky feet and wore things like purple tights and a yellow top. I hated the clothes. ~ Andrea Barber, #NFDB
164:I studied a crescent moon hung crooked in a plum purple sky and thought about what it would be like to truly be seen. ~ Laura Whitcomb, #NFDB
165:...a writing in the sand which all may read but few understand." - Philip Jose Farmer in 'Riders of the Purple Wage ~ Philip Jos Farmer, #NFDB
166:The grass looked wetgreen and pleased. Happy earthworms frolicked purple in the slush. Green nettles nodded. Trees bent. ~ Arundhati Roy, #NFDB
167:The lands are lit with all the autumn blaze of golden-rod, and everywhere the purple asters nod and bend and wave and flit. ~ Helen Hunt, #NFDB
168:There is no dignity in wickedness, whether in purple or rags; and hell is a democracy of devils, where all are equals. ~ Herman Melville, #NFDB
169:A black man, but I feel so blue. So I smoke green and purple to my dreams come true. And my eyes turn red, the sky turns grey. ~ Ludacris, #NFDB
170:I'm not posh, not in the slightest. My parents spent some money on my education, but I wasn't born to the purple. ~ Matthew William Goode, #NFDB
171:the hills
like poets put on
purple thought against
the
magnificent clamor of
day
tortured
in gold ~ E E Cummings,#NFDB
172:And so descends the evening on the two Hens hugging among the juniper, the sky as purple as a bruise in the universe. ~ Walter Wangerin Jr, #NFDB
173:God tells us not to judge one another, no matter what anyone's sexual preferences are or if they're black, brown or purple. ~ Dolly Parton, #NFDB
174:He’d died his blond hair purple in honor of his best friend’s wedding, and he wore skinny white jeans, a red shirt, and ~ Mary Kay Andrews, #NFDB
175:Three more fireworks shot up over the freeway, contorting into purple stars as they burst against the dissipating smoke. ~ Robyn Schneider, #NFDB
176:I came in with a completely new perspective. I would write songs and they would pick tunes they felt were in the Purple vein. ~ Tommy Bolin, #NFDB
177:Purple? Boy, what kind of a homosexual are you, anyway? That's not purple, Mary, that color up there is mauve. ~ Tony Kushner, #NFDB
178:Gone were her fiery orange and resplendent purple. She was dressed in a white long-sleeved chemise, and she was weeping. ~ Diane Setterfield, #NFDB
179:Here.
After so long waiting.
Her purple eyes.
Torn cloak.
Skin pale, sheer as ice.
Exhausted.
But unafraid. ~ Edith Pattou,#NFDB
180:I wouldn't have filmed The Color Purple if the book had been a big fat novel. The reason I read it is because it is thin. ~ Steven Spielberg, #NFDB
181:Donald crouched down, purple commas punctuating his vision, his windpipe feeling as if someone had shoved a flue-brush down it. ~ Lissa Evans, #NFDB
182:I wear the word victim like a badge of honor — my own purple heart. I see what others do more than I see what I'm capable of. ~ Mary E DeMuth, #NFDB
183:That which makes you different is what makes you strong. Whether you're gay, straight, purple, orange, dinosaur; I don't care. ~ Darren Criss, #NFDB
184:Where did I meet him before - this buckbasket of fat, this full-moon face of purple, and this carriage of a sacred elephant? ~ Alexandre Dumas, #NFDB
185:This Fruity Pebble that ya dealin' with, I ain't ya average jabroni. I'm like a big purple pinwheel, Rock, so go ahead and blow me. ~ John Cena, #NFDB
186:A question repeated in the back of Theresa’s mind as she washed the purple stains from her hands. How did they finally break you? ~ Blake Crouch, #NFDB
187:Deep Purple is a damn good band and we've made a niche in rock 'n' roll history. Maybe not a huge one but enough to be very proud of. ~ Jon Lord, #NFDB
188:He slides his button-up under my ass and pulls down his boxer-briefs, freeing an enormous, vein-striped, purple-headed fuck machine. ~ Ella James, #NFDB
189:Purple Haze all in my brain, lately things don't seem the same. Actin' funny but I don't know why. 'Scuse me while I kiss the sky. ~ Jimi Hendrix, #NFDB
190:The dawn came up entirely gold, with no hint of pink or purple. The sky was a rinsed blue, like an old shirt washed a thousand times. ~ Lee Child, #NFDB
191:[On writing to Alice Walker, author of The Color Purple:] I told her I would play a Venetian blind, dirt on the floor, anything. ~ Whoopi Goldberg, #NFDB
192:She wore amethyst-purple woolen slacks paired with a bright yellow leather jacket, like a human being hoping to become an iris. ~ Sibella Giorello, #NFDB
193:The wild roses were wide open and brilliant, the blue-eyed grass was in purple flower, and the silvery milkweed was just coming on. ~ Willa Cather, #NFDB
194:I've never been in the military,
but I have a purple heart:
I got it from beating myself up
over things that I can't fix. ~ Rudy Francisco,#NFDB
195:Those old ages are like the landscape that shows best in purple distance, all verdant and smooth, and bathed in mellow light. ~ Edwin Hubbel Chapin, #NFDB
196:Labella snapped shut her cell phone with a sigh, and looked down at her fingernails, delightfully painted a useless shade of purple. ~ Stefano Benni, #NFDB
197:When she moves, I realize her hair is different too. The gray ends are gone, replaced by a beautiful, familiar purple. I love it. ~ Victoria Aveyard, #NFDB
198:Does the emerald lose its beauty for lack of admiration? Does gold, or ivory, or purple? A lyre or a dagger, a rosebud or a sapling? ~ Marcus Aurelius, #NFDB
199:Instead of responding, I cocked my head, trying to read the writing scrawled across his purple T-shirt. “My eyes are up here,” he said, ~ J A Cipriano, #NFDB
200:In Indiana, I wasn't anything special. But in New York, I've gone out with girls with purple hair who go out with me because I'm exotic! ~ Jim Gaffigan, #NFDB
201:Early impressions are hard to eradicate from the mind. When once wool has been dyed purple, who can restore it to its previous whiteness? ~ Saint Jerome, #NFDB
202:I know there are some people who see sound as colour, and I've always wondered if mean looks different than not mean. I bet it's purple. ~ Mariko Tamaki, #NFDB
203:Purple haze all in my eyes, don't know if it's day or night. You got me blowin', blowin' my mind. Is it tomorrow or just the end of time? ~ Jimi Hendrix, #NFDB
204:Tis midnight now. The bend and broken moon, Batter'd and black, as from a thousand battles, Hangs silent on the purple walls of Heaven. ~ Joaquin Miller, #NFDB
205:You should hear me on my own. It's horrendous.I saw Deep Purple live once and I paid money for it and I thought, Geez, this is ridiculous. ~ Angus Young, #NFDB
206:The sun is setting fast. The colors die. They shift from purple to dried blood, from nacre to bister, from cool dead grays to pigeon shit. ~ Henry Miller, #NFDB
207:Refuge in any hiding-place from a sea too intensely blue to be looked at, and a sky of purple, set with one great flaming jewel of fire. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
208:The painstakingly extracted purple dye was a luxury item of such prestige that the color purple became a way of showing wealth and power. ~ Mark Kurlansky, #NFDB
209:What is this?” Hendrix demanded next to me. “A pool noodle?” I looked over at the long foam purple noodle and burst into more laughter. ~ Rachel Higginson, #NFDB
210:When we first began and I was 14, my influences were the stuff that was in my parent's record collection like Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin. ~ Daniel Johns, #NFDB
211:The beaded purple top scooped low, showing off quite a bit of cleavage. And by quite a bit, I mean holy hell balls, that’s a lot of boobage. ~ Cindi Madsen, #NFDB
212:The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head And became Tyrant in his stead. ~ William Blake, #NFDB
213:David would wear no purple cloth, no symbols of his kingship, when he went to greet the ark. In its presence, we were all of us servants. ~ Geraldine Brooks, #NFDB
214:The orange and purple ones destroyed my home. Now Ma Gasket will destroy theirs! Do you hear me, Leo? Jason? Piper? I come to annihilate you! ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
215:The sails blazed back at us, each glittering facet silver tinged with red and purple, reflecting the world-filtered light of the Old Sun. ~ Alastair Reynolds, #NFDB
216:Amazingly, I can still see the stars: whole galaxies blooming from nothing - pink and purple suns, vast silver oceans, a thousand white moons. ~ Lauren Oliver, #NFDB
217:In the Midwest... winter is an exercise in waiting — for relief, for a bird to sing, for the first purple crocus to push up through the snow. ~ Michelle Obama, #NFDB
218:The sunset over the bay that evening was a conflagration of blood-red and orange and deep, gold-edged purple. I remember: unforgettable. ~ Anne Rivers Siddons, #NFDB
219:When will they learn,’ said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, ‘that hanging’s the only way to deal with these people? ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
220:And o'er the hills, and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim, Beyond the night, across the day, Thro' all the world she follow'd him. ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson, #NFDB
221:'The Color Purple' is the kind of character piece that a director like Sidney Lumet could do brilliantly with one hand tied behind his back. ~ Steven Spielberg, #NFDB
222:Darkness loves him. He dances with it like a lover and the moon comes up over the purple hill and what was sweet smells sour. Smells like poison. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
223:Anger he smiles, towering in shiny metallic purple armor. Queen Jealousy, envy waits behind him, her fiery green gown sneers at the grassy ground. ~ Jimi Hendrix, #NFDB
224:A Sloop of Amber slips away
A Sloop of Amber slips away
Upon an Ether Sea,
And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar,
The Son of Ecstasy ~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
225:I like to write with a lot of emotion and a lot of power. Sometimes I overdo it; sometimes my prose is a little bit too purple, and I know that. ~ Buzz Bissinger, #NFDB
226:My mom used to wear the fragrance Poison when I was younger, and I remember that scent and the purple bottle. That was my first [perfume] memory. ~ John Slattery, #NFDB
227:The painstakingly extracted purple dye was a luxury item of such prestige that the color purple became a way of showing wealth and power. Julius ~ Mark Kurlansky, #NFDB
228:The sky is already purple; the first few stars have appeared, suddenly, as if someone had thrown a handful of silver across the edge of the world. ~ Alice Hoffman, #NFDB
229:When I realized I was hovering at the centre of a giant glowing purple vulture, my first thought was: Carter will never stop teasing me about this. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
230:Why do we electrocute men for murdering an individual and then pin a purple heart on them for mass slaughter of someone arbitrarily labeled “enemy? ~ Sylvia Plath, #NFDB
231:Her face was fragile and mischievous, pale enough to absorb hues from the world around her-purple, green, pink-like a face painted by Lucian Freud. ~ Jennifer Egan, #NFDB
232:He who steals from a citizen,” said Cato, “ends his days in fetters and chains; but he who steals from the community ends them in purple and gold.”17 ~ Will Durant, #NFDB
233:It was an awesome time. I was extremely poor and had little to do. I painted my tiny bedroom Van Gogh Starry Night Purple, and I smoked a lot of pot. ~ Amy Poehler, #NFDB
234:I wasn't a Prince fan until I watched Purple Rain. When I watched that, it was one of my favorite movies of all time because it shows the life of an artist. ~ Tyga, #NFDB
235:One marvel of a day he had walked so far that when he returned the moon was high and full and all the world was purple shadow and silver. ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett, #NFDB
236:Whitelight
Your whitelight flashes the frost to-night
Moon of the purple and silent west.
Remember me one of your lovers of dreams.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
237:Across the aisle, a living manga teen with spiky purple hair and more hardware on his body than an early Borg poked through dusty old digests. ~ Michael R Underwood, #NFDB
238:Although my elephant is different than yours. Mine's bright purple and I like to lead him around on a leash and introduce him to people by name. ~ Suzanne Brockmann, #NFDB
239:Cassian looks at me intently, his eyes more black than purple right then. The purple only shows itself when he’s feeling emotion. A rarity it seems. ~ Sophie Jordan, #NFDB
240:I wonder idly how long i can go without sleep before I flip my shit and start running down the street in my underwear, hallicinating purple spiders. ~ Lauren Oliver, #NFDB
241:I would like better colouration of my legs, like a little less of that English mottled purple thing that makes it necessary to wear tights all the time. ~ Lily Cole, #NFDB
242:Outside, the stars is still danglin in the purple darkness- not a trail of ladle stars, but loose stars, runaway stars, stars too stubborn to disappear. ~ Ann E Burg, #NFDB
243:Foods that are deep blue, purple, red, green, or orange are leaders in antioxidants and contain many nutrients that boost immunity and enhance health. ~ Deepak Chopra, #NFDB
244:My life growing up was a twisted Bronx version of The Color Purple. It had a much different soundtrack and no trees, but that desperation was the same. ~ Tracy Morgan, #NFDB
245:I am still not used to being the possessor of such a grand title. I believe I shall have to start wearing a purple satin turban and carrying a lorgnette. ~ Mary Balogh, #NFDB
246:She is a wonderful nerd, and he hopes this won’t change. He’d be distressed if she were cool—it’d be as if his flesh and blood had grown up to be purple. ~ Tom Rachman, #NFDB
247:You say that, but a giant purple dildo just fell out of my closet and hit you on the head. That is the definition of a reason to be embarrassed. ~ Aurora Rose Reynolds, #NFDB
248:Behind my eyelids, I saw him dancing in spirals of coloured light, emerald, blue, and brilliant purple, enfolding him like the wings of an electric angel. ~ Alexis Hall, #NFDB
249:But he must have richly dyed purple clothes, woven with gold thread and decorated with multicoloured patterns: it is his fault, not nature’s, if he feels poor. ~ Seneca, #NFDB
250:The sun is starting to dip to the west, a bright blaring ball tilting toward the Hudson and leaving a collage of peach and purple streaks across the sky. ~ Gayle Forman, #NFDB
251:the redness had seeped from the day and night was arranging herself around us. Cooling things down, staining and dyeing the evening purple and blue black. ~ Sue Monk Kidd, #NFDB
252:We have the most beautiful planet - the Rockies, the purple fields of the United States, the Lake District, the Pyrenees, the turquoise seas of the tropics. ~ Dan Aykroyd, #NFDB
253:Platoon,” featuring a six-year-old girl, in a purple jumpsuit, dancing to the music. Jungle’s self-titled début, which came out last year, was short-listed for ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
254:Mine the long night
The secret place
Where lovers meet
In long embrace
In purple dark
In silvered kiss
Forget the world
And grasp your bliss ~ A S Byatt,#NFDB
255:There was Isola in a mad hat and a purple shawl pinned with a glittering brooch. She was smiling fixedly in the wrong direction and I loved her instantly. ~ Mary Ann Shaffer, #NFDB
256:And I like all the colors in the salsa. Yellow and green chiles, the red of the chopped tomatoes, the little purple flecks of onion…sort of looks like confetti. ~ Dean Koontz, #NFDB
257:Life with her wine-cup of longing under the purple of her tenture,
Death as her gate of escape and rebirth and renewal of venture. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems, Ahana,#NFDB
258:Take the wonder drug that cures all your ills, take Jeremiah Peabody's polyunsaturated, quick dissolving, fast acting, pleasant tasting, green and purple pills. ~ Ray Stevens, #NFDB
259:A Woman sat in gold and purple sheen,
Armed with the trident and the thunderbolt,
Her feet upon a couchant lion’s back. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Triple Soul-Forces,#NFDB
260:Five trolls in dra-a-a-a-ag,” the four-inch man sang from my shoulder. “Four purple condoms, three French ticklers, two horny vamps, and a succubus in the snow. ~ Kim Harrison, #NFDB
261:Herr Bosch was purple nosed; the oxygen which by rights belonged to the veins of his face had for years gone to feed the sharp blue flame of all that liquor. ~ Thomas Keneally, #NFDB
262:Whether the color of your skin is black, white, yellow, brown or purple - the extent of this tragedy is so incredibly devastating that we had to do something. ~ Bert McCracken, #NFDB
263:With whiskey, the capillary bloom was more diffusely rosy than with gin and less purple than with wine. Every university dinner party was a study in blooms. ~ Jonathan Franzen, #NFDB
264:Five trolls in a dra-a-a-a-ag,' the four-inch man sang from my shoulder. 'Four purple condoms, three French ticklers, two horny vamps and a succubus in the snow. ~ Kim Harrison, #NFDB
265:Green clovers. Blue diamonds. Orange Stars. Pink hearts. Purple horseshoes. Man, I never know if I'm looking at a bowl of cereal or having another acid flashback. ~ David Henry, #NFDB
266:I still think the best metal bands have a blues feel. The first Black Sabbath album is kind of a bludgeoning of blues. Deep Purple also started out as a blues band. ~ Greg Ginn, #NFDB
267:Sitting at the table during Color Purple and looking up and suddenly realizing I was acting in front of Steven Spielberg, was pretty cool. It was pretty good. ~ Whoopi Goldberg, #NFDB
268:The fat woman in purple was looking radiant…Undoubtedly the fat had certain compensations in life…a zest—a gusto—denied to those of more fashionable contours. ~ Agatha Christie, #NFDB
269:I grew up watching foreign programs - American, English, Mexican, and very little Kenyan. 'The Color Purple' was the first time I saw people who looked like me. ~ Lupita Nyong o, #NFDB
270:The Hills erect their Purple Heads
The Hills erect their Purple Heads
The Rivers lean to see
Yet Man has not of all the Throng
A Curiosity.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
271:Purple—is Fashionable Twice
980
Purple—is fashionable twice—
This season of the year,
And when a soul perceives itself
To be an Emperor.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
272:She was wearing a purple T-shirt, with a skinny black dress over it that made you remember how much of a girl she was, and trashed black boots that made you forget. ~ Kami Garcia, #NFDB
273:An errand is getting a tank of gas or picking up a carton of milk or something. It is not getting chased by flying purple pyromaniac gorillas hurling incendiary poo. ~ Jim Butcher, #NFDB
274:at something you’d otherwise find beautiful—a purple sky at sunset or a playground full of kids—and it only somehow deepens the loss. Grief is so lonely this way. ~ Michelle Obama, #NFDB
275:A blaze of his sovereign glory is the sun,
A glory is the gold and glimmering moon,
A glory is his dream of purple sky. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Debate of Love and Death,#NFDB
276:I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers, none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued maltworms, but with nobility and tranquillity. ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
277:It was a wonderful flower, indeed. She had never seen its like before. It was not just one color, or two, but four: ebony, silver, snow white and purple, all at once. ~ Rachel Sharp, #NFDB
278:Tell me where you want it,” I said. Minias drew back, his purple robes shifting about his ankles. “You’re asking me?” “Well, unless you want a big R on your forehead. ~ Kim Harrison, #NFDB
279:Their knees were purple like a machete in the mouth of a horse I’d loved and kissed and cannot remember now but for how one day he’d simply disappeared into my blood. ~ Blake Butler, #NFDB
280:I like purple too. I looked up color psychology before doing any house painting, because I was curious what the colors I like mean. And purple is very royal and creative. ~ Paul Dano, #NFDB
281:I've named a couple things after Edgar Allan Poe: the cat, and my garden upstate, where I only planted black flowers and purple flowers - and there's a raven statue. ~ Hilarie Burton, #NFDB
282:Over in Iraq after you vote they paint your finger purple so you can't vote again. It's a flawless system. It works perfectly unless, of course, someone has paint remover. ~ Jay Leno, #NFDB
283:Purple Cow (SETH GODIN) - Your Highlight on page 67 | location 1019-1020 | Added on Friday, 6 June 2014 09:51:55 Instead, pick the right maverick and get out of the way. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
284:Sometimes I'm in a mood like a Maths problem such as "If you have 4 pencils and 7 apples, how many pancakes will fit on the roof? Purple, because aliens don't wear hats". ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
285:Do you own anything not pink?" "I have a purple razor if you'd rather." "Please." She pulled out a darker pink one. "That's not purple," Talon said. "It's pink too. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon, #NFDB
286:For beneath that delicate black powder something highly unusual was happening: the book’s marbled cover was giving off a faint, but increasingly bright purple glow. ~ Richard Flanagan, #NFDB
287:in with cinders and dry garbage. The sun is setting fast. The colors die. They shift from purple to dried blood, from nacre to bister, from cool dead grays to pigeon shit. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
288:I thought of Theo, the sleepy warmth of him in the dark, waking slowly like a night-blooming orchid, his sprawling limbs as tender and sinuous as purple-bruised petals. ~ Roan Parrish, #NFDB
289:The Hills in Purple syllables
The Hills in Purple syllables
The Day's Adventures tell
To little Groups of Continents
Just going Home from School.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
290:The wall was a symbol of protests, inch upon inch covered with graffiti, in red, blue, yellow, purple, indigo, magenta, terracotta, a tableau of screaming indignations. ~ Edna O Brien, #NFDB
291:The woman who emerged had to be eight feet tall. Her hair was every shade of purple, piled in buns and hanging in braids, and all of it sprinkled with gems like stars. ~ Brenda Cooper, #NFDB
292:A man must have a less than ordinary share of sense that would furnish such plain and common rooms with silver-footed couches and purple coverlets and gold and silver plate. ~ Plutarch, #NFDB
293:Everything is too much, I felt as I rode wearily after her. Too much blue, too much purple, too much green. The flowers too red, the mountains too high, the hills too near. ~ Jean Rhys, #NFDB
294:Expression is the dress of thought, and still Appears more decent as more suitable; A vile conceit in pompous words express'd, Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd. ~ Alexander Pope, #NFDB
295:I love funky shoes and hats. I'm into large-brimmed fedoras with big feathers in fun colors like purple and lime-yellow. I just think hats add pizzazz to your outfits. ~ Kim Kardashian, #NFDB
296:No matter how different one looks or may seem, all are just shades in the colorful rainbow of life that loves everyone, no matter if they are short, purple, or green. ~ Jennifer Sodini, #NFDB
297:The range in brightness from the purple glow [of the sunset] to the dark sky above is too great for most films, and naturally it is beyond the range of printed pictures. ~ James Elkins, #NFDB
298:I saw what Purple meant to people and I still hear it now when I'm in Europe. I'm always shocked that I'm still asked about Purple because it was such a long time ago. ~ David Coverdale, #NFDB
299:She wore a simple purple long-sleeved turtleneck, but streaks of white across her chest - flour perhaps? - distracted him, made him want to volunteer for cleanup duty. ~ Melissa McClone, #NFDB
300:What was that?" Rich combined the pain of a crooked arm with the indignity of a flicked ear. I could only hope the situation didn't escalate to the dreaded purple nurple. ~ Molly Harper, #NFDB
301:With Whitesnake it would have been inappropriate for me to have played Deep Purple songs, although I did at the beginning because I didn't have enough Whitesnake songs. ~ David Coverdale, #NFDB
302:It's all or nothing with my makeup. If I get dressed up, I'll go to an extreme. I'll wear foundation, bright blue or bright red lipstick with one of my weird purple wigs. ~ Angelina Jolie, #NFDB
303:Over the summit, I saw the so-called Mono desert lying dreamily silent in the thick, purple light -- a desert of heavy sun-glare beheld from a desert of ice-burnished granite. ~ John Muir, #NFDB
304:Thank Heaven that the temples of such spirits are not made with hands, and that they may be even more worthily hung with poor patch-work than with purple and fine linen! ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
305:As a kid, I always had a super vivid imagination, like "Man, I like those shoes, but they should've made them in purple" or like, "Man, I wonder how people make songs." ~ Pharrell Williams, #NFDB
306:Ninety percent of a shirt that not only was bright purple and green but with a design on it that, if you moved too quickly, might cause a seizure in an unsuspecting onlooker. ~ Lewis Black, #NFDB
307:The Queen’s bum remained purple. She showed it to everyone in the country when she gave her yearly speech to the nation on Christmas Day, calling it her ‘anus horribilis’. ~ David Walliams, #NFDB
308:I ran into Neal Patrick Harris recently. We were in something called The Purple People Eater. He was maybe 10, but he still remembered it as the worst experience of his life! ~ Peggy Lipton, #NFDB
309:Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness. ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
310:Angka dua untuk daya yang dikenal sebagai Yin dan Yang - setara dan berlawanan; mereka menyatukan alam semesta ini bersama-sama (Putri Yangxin-Garden of The Purple Dragon) ~ Carole Wilkinson, #NFDB
311:You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known, Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own — What are you when the rose is blown? ~ Henry Wotton, #NFDB
312:Her lips are roses over-washed with dew, Or like the purple of Narcissus' flower; No frost their fair, no wind doth waste their power, But by her breath her beauties to renew. ~ Robert Greene, #NFDB
313:I pray for the courage
To walk naked
At any age
To wear red and purple,
To be unladylike,
Inappropriate,
Scandalous and incorrect
To the very end. ~ Gloria Steinem,#NFDB
314:I went through this phase where I thought pink and purple matched. To dance class, I'd wear purple tights and pink leg warmers and paint my shoes purple. It was really odd. ~ Carrie Ann Inaba, #NFDB
315:purple van pulled up to the curb. The side door rolled open. A cheerful male voice said, “Hey, there!” The last thing Alistair Oh saw was a large fist hurtling toward his face. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
316:The purple haze of the wych elms; the blue flash of a kingfisher’s wings; the statuesque rightness of the milch cows in that green place chomping on the rich flood-grass. ~ Ronald Frame, #NFDB
317:An errand is getting a tank of gas or picking up a carton of milk or something. It is not getting chased by flying purple pyromaniac gorillas hurling incendiary poo! ~ Jim Butcher, #NFDB
318:In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love’s wound. ~ William Shakespeare,#NFDB
319:All the selling out talk is really overrated, the funny thing is it hardly ever comes from bands, it comes from some kid who thinks they're so punk because they have a purple mohawk ~ Tom DeLonge, #NFDB
320:Thomas scowled. “An errand is getting a tank of gas or picking up a carton of milk or something. It is not getting chased by flying purple pyromaniac gorillas hurling incendiary poo. ~ Jim Butcher, #NFDB
321:As she read on, her surroundings gradually faded, and soon there lay about her only the mists of dream; the purple, star-strown mists beyond Time, where only gods and dreamers walk. ~ H P Lovecraft, #NFDB
322:Tamara gave Jasper a long, considering look. Then she picked up her bowl of pudding and turned it upside down on top of his head. Purple goop ran down his face. He yelped in surprise. ~ Holly Black, #NFDB
323:Tell me where you want it,” I said.
Minias drew back, his purple robes shifting about his ankles. “You’re asking me?”
“Well, unless you want a big R on your forehead. ~ Kim Harrison,#NFDB
324:I believe that virtue shows quite as well in rags and patches as she does in purple and fine linen,... even if Gargery and Boffin did not speak like gentlemen, they were gentlemen. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
325:1233
Where Ships Of Purple—gently Toss
265
Where Ships of Purple—gently toss—
On Seas of Daffodil—
Fantastic Sailors—mingle—
And then—the Wharf is still!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
326:Now, any other man in Cedar Dell would catch hell for wearing a pink shirt. Not Nicholas Sutherland. He'd still ooze masculinity if he wore pink sneakers and socks with purple pom-poms. ~ Emily March, #NFDB
327:Three figures emerged in elegant fur hats and heavy wool kefta: one in crimson, one in darkest blue, and one in vibrant purple. “Grisha!” the girl whispered. “Quick!” said the boy. In ~ Leigh Bardugo, #NFDB
328:Who says you can't rock Wall Street and wear purple at the same time? Jennifer Lee opens the door for artists, healers, and brilliant souls to take their passion into the marketplace. ~ Tama J Kieves, #NFDB
329:Men are still men. The despot's wickedness Comes of ill teaching, and of power's excess,-- Comes of the purple he from childhood wears, Slaves would be tyrants if the chance were theirs. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
330:When it comes to racism, you hear people say, "I don't care if people are white, black, purple or green." Hold on, now, purple or green? Come on now, you gotta draw the line somewhere. ~ Mitch Hedberg, #NFDB
331:Juice
Mulberries drop; tart purple rots to wine.
Plump sparrows celebrate and gorge like swine.
Perhaps their revelry should be delayed
Since cats appreciate a marinade.
~ AM Juster,#NFDB
332:Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood; as the Emperors signed their names in green ink when under age, but when of age, in purple. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, #NFDB
333:Now we notice that Mars doesn't have any atmosphere either and won't support life. In spite of the fact that it turns green and red and purple with the seasons, it doesn't support life. ~ L Ron Hubbard, #NFDB
334:Shadows crept along the ground like slowly seeping India ink, moved up the sides of the house, and slipped through the slats on the picket fence. Sunset tinted the sky purple and pink. ~ Kristin Hannah, #NFDB
335:...and tiny little ears,” Luna was saying, “a bit like a hippo’s, Daddy says, only purple and hairy. And if you want to call them, you have to hum; they prefer a waltz, nothing too fast... ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
336:For I Dipt Into the Future,
Far as Human Eye Could See,
Saw the Heavens Filled With Commerce, magic sails argosy
Pilots of the Purple Twilight Dipping Down with costly bales ~ Alfred Tennyson,#NFDB
337:Let me give you a piece of advice. The handsome young fellow who's trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong. Not even if he says the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs. ~ Cassandra Clare, #NFDB
338:At the center of these stifling landscapes, on a green carpet of weed, those purple flowers always glistened, radiant in the middle of filth: the atrocious ornament of a life snuffed out. ~ D ng Thu H ng, #NFDB
339:THE WORLD IS FULL OF BILLIONS OF ASSHOLES. THE PRESIDENT HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE CARWASH BOY HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE JUDGE AND THE MURDERER HAVE ASSHOLES … EVEN PURPLE STICKPIN HAS AN ASSHOLE! ~ Charles Bukowski, #NFDB
340:Here No Fatted Oxen Be
Gold, nor purple tapestry:
But a well-disposéd mind;
But a gentle muse, and kind;
But bright wine to glad our souls,
Mantling in Boeotian bowls.
~ Bacchylides,#NFDB
341:I have worn my white and purple, colors of the Suffragettes, in honor of the fact that we have our first woman president, soon to be, Hillary Clinton, elected president of the United States. ~ Nancy Pelosi, #NFDB
342:Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev can no longer attend concerts by his favorite group Deep Purple without having to fear that the musicians will wear T-shirts with Pussy Riot written on them. ~ Alexei Navalny, #NFDB
343:She held a bluebell up to the light; and Dunstan could not but observe that the color of sunlight glittering through the purple crystal was inferior in both hue and shade to that of her eyes. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
344:You have always thought of the family before anything else, even yourself. Now all you want is a woman? I don’t care if she’s black, purple, green, Irish or not. You should have what you want. ~ J J McAvoy, #NFDB
345:You saying God vain? I ast.
Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. ~ Alice Walker,#NFDB
346:Day was a purple pageant and a hymn,
A wave of the laughter of light from morn to eve. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Joy of Union; the Ordeal of the Foreknowledge of Death and the Heart’s Grief and Pain,#NFDB
347:Each day the storm clouds were opening like great purple flowers and pouring out their dark thunder. Each nightfall, the storm was laid down on their houses like a burden the day had carried. ~ Eudora Welty, #NFDB
348:Dance and Provencal song and sunburnt mirth! On for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene! With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth. ~ John Keats, #NFDB
349:For the frequent user, the impact of a cooler, better, easier-to-use input device is profound – so profound that many users are happy to proselytize to their peers. More sneezing of a Purple Cow. ~ Seth Godin, #NFDB
350:When many people think of "new age" they think of crystals and purple decals and ceramic angels in people's windows and a kind of fuzzy thinking - which is abhorrent to a serious person. ~ Marianne Williamson, #NFDB
351:Every Easter she and her mother planted those crocuses near the fence beside the driveway, and soon enough a whole cluster of them, white and purple and pink, sprang annually like magic ~ Christina Baker Kline, #NFDB
352:I have been 130 lbs. as well as 215 lbs. I have had blond, strawberry blond, green, pink and purple hair, and none of that has ever exempted me from having lewd comments flung at me in the street. ~ Beth Ditto, #NFDB
353:Into the wide stream came of purple hue–
’Twas Bacchus and his crew!
The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills
From kissing cymbals made a merry din– 200
’Twas Bacchus and his kin! ~ John Keats,#NFDB
354:Purple Cow (SETH GODIN) - Your Highlight on page 68 | location 1042-1042 | Added on Friday, 6 June 2014 10:00:32 Assume that what was remarkable last time won’t be remarkable this time. ========== ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
355:Violet was nothing if not sensible. She didn’t even approve when we pulled entirely harmless pranks, like hiding someone’s yacht in the wrong slip, or turning the racquet club’s pool water purple. ~ Sara Gruen, #NFDB
356:EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis tried him to the chase;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn; ~ William Shakespeare,#NFDB
357:In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue and white;
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,
Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee;
Fairies use flower for their charactery. ~ William Shakespeare,#NFDB
358:My hiatus is over, my soul and body are healed, but I will never leave the purple chair for long. So many books waiting to be read, so much happiness to be found, so much wonder to be revealed. ~ Nina Sankovitch, #NFDB
359:The whole campfire idea freaked Piper out. It made her think of that huge purple bonfire in the dreams, and her father tied to a stake. What she got instead was almost as terrifying: a sing-along. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
360:Be different. Be original. Nobody will remember a specific flower in garden loaded with thousands of the same yellow flower, but they will remember the one that managed to change its color to purple. ~ Suzy Kassem, #NFDB
361:I never got a good look at Dr. Tuttle's eyes. I suspect that they were crazy eyes, black and shiny, like a crow's. The pen she used was long and purple and had a purple feather at the end of it. ~ Ottessa Moshfegh, #NFDB
362:No matter what anyone says or does, my task is to be good. Like gold or emerald or purple repeating to itself, “No matter what anyone says or does, my task is to be emerald, my color undiminished. ~ Marcus Aurelius, #NFDB
363:no matter what anyone says or does, my task is to be good. like gold or emerald or purple repeating to itself, "no matter what anyone says or does, my task is to be emerald, my color undiminished. ~ Marcus Aurelius, #NFDB
364:You know, with me, you never have to be embarrassed, right?” “You say that, but a giant purple dildo just fell out of my closet and hit you on the head. That is the definition of a reason to be embarrassed. ~ Tijan, #NFDB
365:Be different. Be original. Nobody will remember a specific flower in a garden filled with thousands of the same yellow flower, but they will remember the one that managed to change its color to purple. ~ Suzy Kassem, #NFDB
366:Genius is talent provided with ideals. Genius starves while talent wears purple and fine linen. The man of genius of today will infifty years' time be in most cases no more than a man of talent. ~ W Somerset Maugham, #NFDB
367:Katy Perry is the sexiest woman I've ever kissed. It was amazing and very purple - she had purple lipstick on. I don't think there will ever be anything cooler than kissing her until I marry her maybe! ~ Niall Horan, #NFDB
368:The generality of princes, if they were stripped of their purple, and cast naked into the world, would immediately sink to the lowest rank of society, without a hope of emerging from their obscurity. ~ Edward Gibbon, #NFDB
369:The whole campfire idea freaked Piper out. It made her think of that huge purple bonfire in the dreams, and her father tied to a stake.
What she got instead was almost as terrifying: a sing-along. ~ Rick Riordan,#NFDB
370:He told her the flowers in her painting contained exactly the purple substance of the flowers on the desk in front of her [...] Let us open the window and see if your painting can entice the butterflies. ~ Sarah Hall, #NFDB
371:My camera was on the bedside table, the purple strap frayed and the viewfinder cracked. It was damaged but not ruined, changed but not destroyed. Kind of like me. A little special. A little strange. ~ Victoria Schwab, #NFDB
372:One hand was behind his back, and he held it out, presenting a bouquet of white and smoky purple lilies.
“They’re straight from the underworld, by the way. They are everlasting. They won’t die. ~ Jess C Scott,#NFDB
373: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. ~ Janet Fitch, #NFDB
374:The real truth is, there's no such thing as a red state or a blue state, they're all purple. Some are more purple than others and our job is to get them all deep purple and then blue. And we can do that. ~ Howard Dean, #NFDB
375:Everybody was starting to grow long hair and wear pink suits and purple glasses and stuff and then, I suppose, some people thought we were crazy, but we weren't really crazy because we're all still here! ~ Noel Redding, #NFDB
376:He stabs at the mouse mat with one finger and I wince, but instead of fat purple sparks and a hideous soul-sucking manifestation, it simply wakes up his Windows box. (Not that there’s much difference.) ~ Charles Stross, #NFDB
377:She lived in shades of black and gray— sometimes a dark purple will slip in in the form of shoelaces or a headband— but she painted the entire world with color. She painted my entire world with color. ~ Nicole Williams, #NFDB
378:There is no evil that does not promise inducements. Avarice promises money; luxury, a varied assortment of pleasures; ambition, a purple robe and applause. Vices tempt you by the rewards they offer. ~ Seneca the Younger, #NFDB
379:Between the journeymen, vampires crouched like monstrous gargoyles: hairless, corded with a tight network of steel-hard muscle, and smeared in lime-green and purple sunblock. Bubble-gum-tinted nightmares. ~ Ilona Andrews, #NFDB
380:The piece of you that loves a part of me tries its best to hold onto the rest,
but my heart is a thousand-piece puzzle of a faraway galaxy, deep purple,
colors blending together and impossible to place. ~ Kris Kidd,#NFDB
381:Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
382:Not one of all the purple host Who took the flag to-day Can tell the definition So clear of victory, As he, defeated, dying, On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Break agonized and clear. ~ Emily Dickinson, #NFDB
383:Purple vines clung weakly to the trunks of dying trees, their wilted black petals falling like volcanic ash. The further they traveled, the more abundantly this ominous strain of flora dominated the terrain. ~ Robert Bevan, #NFDB
384:But I had never seen a spider like this one. It was purple. And then it made a hissing noise akin to a cat before it launched itself at my head. I tried to stop it, failed, and fell backwards off the ladder. ~ Rebecca Royce, #NFDB
385:God love admiration. You saying God vain? I ast. Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
386:If Bacchus ever had a color he could claim for his own, it should surely be the shade of tannin on drunken lips, of John Keat's 'purple-stained mouth,' or perhaps even of Homer's dangerously wine-dark sea. ~ Victoria Finlay, #NFDB
387:I said you [Mike Pence] can't give me this [Purple Heart]. He said, "Mr. Trump you mean so much to me and my family." You know we're doing very well with the veterans. I know you guys do not like to say that. ~ Donald Trump, #NFDB
388:There is a certain amount of pornography that exists throughout Purple Rain, but the appeal is obvious. You can really pick that picture apart and see where "A" fits into "B" and so on. It was very wisely done. ~ Gene Kelly, #NFDB
389:The wise men know what wicked things are written on the sky;
They trim sad lamps, they touch sad strings, hearing the heavy purple wings,
Where the forgotten Seraph kings still plot how God shall die. ~ G K Chesterton,#NFDB
390:and if the males of the family be the greater number, the grapes are enamelled purple, with a little sun set on the top; if the females, then they are enamelled into a greenish yellow, with a crescent on the top. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
391:I don’t care if you’re black, white, brown, yellow, red, green, or purple.’ We’ve all said it. Posited as proof of our nonprejudicial ways, but if you painted any one of us purple or green, we’d be mad as hell. ~ Paul Beatty, #NFDB
392:She was wearing a bright purple dress that was so short, I thought it might have started its life as a shirt. She would've been pretty if her face hadn't looked like she'd just taken a big swig of sour milk. ~ Rachel Hawkins, #NFDB
393:Along the sideline at midfield was a large stage, decorated with swaths of purple cloth. Purple banners with gold lettering—Latin words?—hung from posts.
The movie Gladiator called. Wants its props back. ~ Kresley Cole,#NFDB
394:And I’ll gaze across the chasm to the other side of the island, where I can still sometimes catch sight of a curly-haired urchin running joyously through the tall purple grass, her faithful dog at her heels. ~ Michelle Cooper, #NFDB
395:I'm just warning you, I'm probably going to be a total hard-ass vamp."
Mallory snorted and walked out of the kitchen, calling out, "Yeah, well, you've got a purple marshmallow on your chin, hard-ass vamp. ~ Chloe Neill,#NFDB
396:table. The bruise that arced across Jacob’s chest looked like the top half of a large circle … or a steering wheel. He traced the edge with his finger, a rainbow of purple-hued skin. A chill ran up his spine. “Did ~ G P Ching, #NFDB
397: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. ~ Heather Headley, #NFDB
398:My favorite name for a color is "puce." It's kind of a dried blood color. It's a hideous color. But I love the word. It's so euphonic. But my favorite colors are lavender, purple, periwinkle blue, and white. ~ Elizabeth Taylor, #NFDB
399:I haven't figured out a rainbow yet, They come so quickly and leave so soon. I never have enough time to capture them. Just a bit of blue here or purple there. And then they fade away again. Back into the air. ~ Suzanne Collins, #NFDB
400:It's like The Mold in Dr. Florey's Coat, about the discovery of penicillin. Out of these strange accidents come huge discoveries. A certain purple bleeds into red and all of a sudden you have something unexpected. ~ Carly Simon, #NFDB
401:...Why are all these masks winking?" Jason pointed around the room with his fork. The loremaster dabbed at his mouth with a frilled purple napkin. "One eye is open to all truth, the other closed to all deception. ~ Brandon Mull, #NFDB
402:[They returned] as ordinary, living father and child, in time to see the sun rise beyond the eastern desert and turn the cliffs of Western Thebes to pink and purple and gold as a new day dawned over Egypt. ~ Roger Lancelyn Green, #NFDB
403:When there is rot in the walls, there is only one remedy.” The purple bruise at my throat was turning green at its edges. I pressed it, felt the splintered ache. Tear down, I thought. Tear down and build again. ~ Madeline Miller, #NFDB
404:I glide under a sky so blue, so purple, so golden I fight as hard as anything to keep my eyes open, because I want to remember it forever, however long that lasts. Because I know it'll be the last thing I see. ~ Alexandra Bracken, #NFDB
405:I wanted to cry.
I also wanted to go to my laboratory and prepare an enormous batch of nitrogen triiodide with which to blow up, in a spectacular mushroom cloud of purple vapor, the world and everyone in it. ~ Alan Bradley,#NFDB
406:Central depth of purple, Leaves more bright than rose, Who shall tell what brightest thought Out of darkness grows? Who, through what funereal pain, Souls to love and peace attain? - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt ~ Leigh Hunt, #NFDB
407:John Kerry went duck hunting and he's doing that to fulfill his campaign pledge to hunt down the ducks and kill them wherever they are! Kerry did pretty well; he came back with four ducks and three Purple Hearts. ~ David Letterman, #NFDB
408:I had a suit made for me when I was five. It was double-breasted, mohair and purple. My mother was very particular about clothing - it always used to have to go back into the plastic and it used to drive me insane. ~ Ozwald Boateng, #NFDB
409:I try to avoid purple patches, fine writing, all that kind of thing... because I think they're a mistake. And then sometimes it comes through and sometimes it doesn't, but that's not up to me. It's up to chance. ~ Jorge Luis Borges, #NFDB
410:The woman in purple subjected Jack to a critical inspection. “You must be Jack. Jane succeeded in part of her mission, at least.” And then: “You don’t look at all as I expected.”
“Fewer horns?” said Jack tersely. ~ Lauren Willig,#NFDB
411:Blueberries SIDEKICKS: Purple grapes, cranberries, boysenberries, raspberries, strawberries, currants, blackberries, cherries, and all other varieties of fresh, frozen, or dried berries TRY TO EAT: 1 to 2 cups daily ~ Steven G Pratt, #NFDB
412:He decided that, despite the swelling and purple bruises, neither my ribs nor my kneecap were broken. Fractured, maybe, but there was no way of telling without an X-ray. ‘Feel like a drive to the hospital in Milas?’ he ~ Terry Hayes, #NFDB
413:Kimrean sighted purple caged dancers, mud wrestlers, tattooed devils, G-stringed Atlases erected like Pillars of Hercules out of a liquid crowd waving in worship of ancient twerk masters summoning cellulite tsunamis. ~ Edgar Cantero, #NFDB
414:The fallen hazel-nuts, Stripped late of their green sheaths, The grapes, red-purple, Their berries Dripping with wine, Pomegranates already broken, And shrunken fig, And quinces untouched, I bring thee as offering. ~ Hilda Doolittle, #NFDB
415:Her body was so slim, so… everything. His hands began to twitch with the need to touch her. Wearing deep purple lace to cover her breasts, she looked so damn perfect.
Then she sighed his name.
And he was lost ~ Samantha Chase,#NFDB
416:She turned her head to him then. Her face was as cool as the sea off Cornwall, yet her eyes blazed purple fire. "No, thank you, my Lord", she said bitingly. "I find I no longer care for your library, or anything in it. ~ Heather Snow, #NFDB
417:The torture-wheel shall serve him even as these horses from Hell have served my blood-red lilies of Sotar and my vein-colored irises of Naat and my orchids from Uccastrog which were purple as the bruises of love. ~ Clark Ashton Smith, #NFDB
418:We walked in silence. Yellow blooms had appeared on a cactus, and for some reason that made me incredibly sad. The purple of the mountains flowed like watercolour. (P. 103) ~ Jerry Spinelli Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli ~ Jerry Spinelli, #NFDB
419:would be if someone came to find me.. if I froze in the snow with angel wings pressed into the ground.. my lips a pretty purple-blue.. my eyelids pink and my skin pale.. how beautiful they would say I was.. how perfect. ~ Brian James, #NFDB
420:I hate that name,” Mr. Grey said, walking toward the dragon’s head statue. It was taller than he was, formed eerily from the stalactites and stalagmites of the cavern wall. “I wanted to be Mr. Purple. I like purple. ~ G Norman Lippert, #NFDB
421:No prosaic description can portray the grandeur of 40 miles of rugged mountains rising beyond a placid lake in which each shadowy precipice and each purple gorge is reflected with a vividness that rivals the original. ~ Herbert Hoover, #NFDB
422:The sky turned a deep purple and all at once the stars and moon came out — and the sun shone at the same time. He had reached a layer of the upper atmosphere where the air was too thin to contain reflecting dust particles. ~ Tom Wolfe, #NFDB
423:I no longer complain about taking too much cream. I have made so many errors that unless I forgive myself and forget I will be in a helpless purple situation of self recrimination. The scorpio tail comes round to sting. ~ Hannah Weiner, #NFDB
424:My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead;
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red. ~ Alfred Tennyson,#NFDB
425:Julia and Sallie and I all had new dresses. Do you want to hear about them? Julia's was cream satin and gold embroidery and she wore purple orchids. It was a DREAM and came from Paris, and cost a million dollars. Sallie's ~ Jean Webster, #NFDB
426:So limp of brain that for them to conceive an idea is to risk a haemorrhage. So limp of body that their purple dresses appear no more indicative of housing nerves and sinews than when they hang suspended from their hooks. ~ Mervyn Peake, #NFDB
427:X-Pac, I always thought you were a greasy haired, cheesey bandana wearing asshole that wore green and black tights. I now think you are a greasy haired, cheesey bandana wearing asshole that wears purple and black tights. ~ Chris Jericho, #NFDB
428:Pale purple as the bloom om a ripe plum, veined with the gold of late flowering gorse, set with small slender birches,just turning yellow,with red-berried rowans and thicket of bracken, the heath lay steeped in sunshine. ~ Flora Thompson, #NFDB
429:The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Lock Katrine blue, Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy. ~ Walter Scott, #NFDB
430:Wiggly Charlie lived in a big house with his friends Audrey and Big Charlie. He liked mozzarella cheese sticks, chasing his tennis ball, and putting his purple wizard hat on his willy and pretending they were friends. ~ Christopher Moore, #NFDB
431:What's Your Purple Goldfish? busts a myth and reveals a simple truth about customer service. Stan uncovers the recipe for creating signature added value that increases customer satisfaction and drives positive word of mouth. ~ Barry Moltz, #NFDB
432:I haven't been in Washington over the last - ever. I'm not part of Washington. I got to serve as governor of a state, a purple state and I was the most successful conservative governor probably, during the time that I was there. ~ Jeb Bush, #NFDB
433:Olli punched in with the cymbal-whack of her typewriter by the alley-side window while a happy neon sign six stories down flashing Hobart and Sons' Fine Smokables got its purple light all tangled up in her eyelashes. ~ Catherynne M Valente, #NFDB
434:Are we fighting?" I asked Morelli. "No. Were discussing." "Are you sure?" "Am I yelling?" Morelli asked. "Is my face purple? Are the cords on my neck standing out? Am I waving my arms around?" "No." "The were not fighting. ~ Janet Evanovich, #NFDB
435:But there was only that silence, as in the five or ten minutes before a vicious thundersquall strikes, when the purple heads stack up in the sky overhead and the light turns a queer purple-yellow and the wind dies completely. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
436:I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
437:Caleb and Tris exchange a look. The skin on his face and on her knuckles is nearly the same colour, purple-blue-green, as if drawn with ink. This is what happens when siblings collide - they injure each other in the same way. ~ Veronica Roth, #NFDB
438:I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
439:She watched the moon, whose radiance stained with primrose the purple of the surrounding sky. In England the moon had seemed dead and alien; here she was caught in the shawl of night together with earth and all the other stars. ~ E M Forster, #NFDB
440:He looked over at me. “Indigo,” he said. “Cyan”. He glanced at the road in front of him, glanced at me. He reached over and ran his fingers down one of the darkest strands in the back, where I’d used a little purple. “Violet. ~ Jennifer Echols, #NFDB
441:If youre going to reach for it, reach all the way for it. Albums like Purple Rain and Thriller and those kind of records, you had to reach far above the din of cynicism and modern living to get to that place, against all the odds. ~ Dave Sitek, #NFDB
442:Plumes of white, pink, and purple blossoms offset the one hundred shades of green our little city is known for this time of year: lime, celery, and avocado, butter lettuce and kale, Granny Smith apple and broccoli and sage. ~ Jennie Shortridge, #NFDB
443:We keep hearing from [Barack] Obama and Hillary Clinton and Washington Republicans that they're searching for these mythical moderate rebels. It's like a purple unicorn. They never exist. These moderate rebels end up being jihadists. ~ Ted Cruz, #NFDB
444:Believe me when I tell you that there is no lie quite so obvious as the one where you try to protest that you have washed your face ready for bedtime while you are still sporting an enormous ear-to-ear purple smile of dried Ribena. ~ Nigel Slater, #NFDB
445:President Obama is in China now for an economic summit in Beijing. The president wore a traditional purple silk shirt along with Chinese President Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin. That's after they taught Putin how to put a shirt ON. ~ Jimmy Fallon, #NFDB
446:Shug: More than anything God love admiration.
Celie: You saying God is vain?
Shug: No, not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off when you walk by the colour purple in a field and don't notice it. ~ Alice Walker,#NFDB
447:Let us candidly confess our indebtedness to the needle. How many hours of sorrow has it softened, how many bitter irritations calmed, how many confused thoughts reduced to order, how many life-plans sketched in purple! ~ Caroline Wells Healey Dall, #NFDB
448:Why? How had this otherwise sensible woman who had only met Beamabeth as a screaming purple blob fallen under her spell? Or had Beamabeth slipped immaculate into the world, petal-cheeked and smiling amidst gleaming golden curls? ~ Frances Hardinge, #NFDB
449:With an animated show you can make a banana purple. You can put three hats on a cowboy. That would require several days of stitching, in live-action, that you wouldn't be able to afford. I mean, you can just do tons and tons and tons. ~ Dan Harmon, #NFDB
450:Shard by shard we are released from the tyranny of so-called time. A curtain of purple wisteria partially conceals the entrance to a familiar garden... In a wink, a lifetime, we pass through the infinite movements of a silent overture. ~ Patti Smith, #NFDB
451:Atom bombs, something's wrong. D.E.A sent to Guam. Acid Trips, big fat chics. Purple Finstone Vitamins.All the needy rich are greedy. I find out you don't need me. Berlin wall starts to fall. I trip out to the wall. Hooray Horrah ~ Chester Bennington, #NFDB
452:... darkness isn't the opposite of light, it is simply
its absence, and what was radiating from the book was the light that lies on the far side of
darkness, the light fantastic.
It was a rather disappointing purple colour. ~ Terry Pratchett,#NFDB
453:He smiled mischievously. “I’ve got the archetype for the Gemma ring right here,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, purple box. He flicked it open and slid down to one knee. “I was hoping you’d wear it. As my wife. ~ Chance Carter, #NFDB
454:It had no mountains but many gentle hills with slopes like pillows. An attractive smell came from it--what Lucy called “a dim, purple kind of smell,” which Edmund said (and Rhince thought) was rot, but Caspian said, “I know what you mean. ~ C S Lewis, #NFDB
455:Out of the fresh little green hearts of their foliage the lilacs raised inquisitively over the fence of the park their plumes of white or purple blossom, which glowed, even in the shade, with the sunlight in which they had been bathed. ~ Marcel Proust, #NFDB
456:Purple cloud covered his head so that he silently attacked his own blood and likeness, a lunar countenance; stonily sank away into emptiness, when in a broken mirror a dying youth, the sister, appeared; the night engulfed the cursed race. ~ Georg Trakl, #NFDB
457:We want to get the hell over there. The quicker we clean up this Goddamned mess, the quicker we can take a little jaunt against the purple pissing Japs and clean out their nest, too. Before the Goddamned Marines get all of the credit. ~ George S Patton, #NFDB
458:Around a bend, a pair of wood ducks makes squeaking calls and rises with splashing and then whistling wings. You do not see the male's brilliant garb of red, purple, green, and blue. But you know you are hearing the jewels of the marsh. ~ Bernd Heinrich, #NFDB
459:I'm stopping you," Lucy said, catching him and grabbing his arm. "You are not going to do anything so stupid… Look Septimus, you're clever. Even I know what those purple stripes on your sleeves mean, so - like Wolf Boy said - use your head. ~ Angie Sage, #NFDB
460:We went to a juice bar after yoga once. Once.”
“He still calls you the one that got away.”
“That’s ridiculous. He talked about his beet juice obsession the entire time. I barely said a word. I would never date someone who peed purple. ~ Penny Reid,#NFDB
461:An uninterrupted view of the Paris skyline was spread out before her, like a giant landscape painting rendered in shades of blue-grey, charcoal and purple-tinted umber; the dreamy palette of shifting shadows at twilight. The blue hour. ~ Kathleen Tessaro, #NFDB
462:By The Purple Cliff
On a part of a spear still unrusted in the sand
I have burnished the symbol of an ancient kingdom....
Except for a wind aiding General Zhou Yu,
Spring would have sealed both Qiao girls in CopperBird Palace.
~ Du Mu,#NFDB
463:Writing is nothing less than thought transference, the ability to send one's ideas out into the world, beyond time and distance, taken at the value of the words, unbound from the speaker. ~ Arthur M. Jolly, interview with Purple Pencil Adventures (2010)., #NFDB
464:a cloud-congested caul that is alternately red, orange, vermilion, purple. Sometimes the clouds break apart in great, slow rafts, letting through beams of innocent yellow sunlight that are bitterly nostalgic for the summer that has gone by. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
465:Are we fighting?" I asked Morelli.
"No. Were discussing."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I yelling?" Morelli asked. "Is my face purple? Are the cords on my neck standing out? Am I waving my arms around?"
"No."
"The were not fighting. ~ Janet Evanovich,#NFDB
466:Dom leaned back to study the flesh in front of him. He was long and curved, not quite as thick as Dom, and the purple head was already leaking fluid. Dom took a quick lick, then used his hands to test the weight of Logan’s balls. “Please, ~ Sloane Kennedy, #NFDB
467:He snorted into his radicchio, which I admired because it was a pretty purple. The radicchio was purple, not his snort. Just in case you got confused there. I don't think it's possible for people to snort colors. We're not unicorns, after all. ~ T J Klune, #NFDB
468:If you stopped trimming for three weeks, you’d look like one of those wolf people. If we get that reality TV show going, we could dye it all to prove I’m right, but I think we should go purple so you look like a giant wine-dipped yeti.” I ~ Helena Hunting, #NFDB
469:As his mouth flooded with that horrible sweet purple taste, he could actually see those grapes dull, dusty, obese and nasty, crawling up a dirty stucco wall in a thick, syrupy sunlight that was silent except for the stupid buzz of many flies ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
470:If we turn to early Irish literature, as we naturally may, to see what sort of people the Irish were in the infancy of the race, we find ourselves wandering in delighted bewilderment through a darkness shot with lightning and purple flame. ~ Sean O Faolain, #NFDB
471:Me, Change! Me, Alter!
268
Me, change! Me, alter!
Then I will, when on the Everlasting Hill
A Smaller Purple grows—
At sunset, or a lesser glow
Flickers upon Cordillera—
At Day's superior close!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
472:Trying to chase that old white man out of my head. I been so busy thinking bout him I never truly notice nothing God make. Not a blade of corn (how it do that?) not the color purple (where it come from?). Not the little wildflowers. Nothing. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
473:At school, I couldn't help but grin.
At home, something ripped under my skin when I smiled, trying to pretend that everything was fine. Deadly moods lurked in a purple-white haze, smoke clinging to the curtains, turning stale overnight. ~ Andrea Ashworth,#NFDB
474:But the name Magnus Bane made him think of a towering sort of figure, with huge shoulders and formal purple warlock’s robes, calling down fire and lightning. Not Magnus himself, who was more of a cross between a panther and a demented elf. ~ Cassandra Clare, #NFDB
475:My look, mind you, is not chocolate like Lauryn Hill, Whoopi Goldberg, or Naomi Campbell - it is pitch black and shimmering like the purple outer space of the universe. I am the charcoal that creates diamonds. I am the blackest black woman (41). ~ Kola Boof, #NFDB
476:The water is still and smooth. Polished glass. Not a ripple of wind disturbs the dark surface. Low-rising mist drifts off liquid mountains floating against a purple-bruised sky. An eager breath shudders past my lips. Soon the sun will break. ~ Sophie Jordan, #NFDB
477:as a pair of purple spectacles communicate the same uniform tint to all objects near and remote, so the political glasses, with which the young gentleman assists his mental vision, give to everything the hue and tinge of party feeling. The ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
478:Two boys, both in varsity football, kissing under the bleachers, muscular silhouettes merging against the deep purple sky. I wasn’t the only one with a secret. In the grand scheme of things, my secret wasn’t even as dangerous as some of theirs. ~ Leah Raeder, #NFDB
479:Captain Nedele, a lean old man with skin like crumpled and singed paper, no hair on his head but great tangled tufts over his eyes and sprouting from his ears, and a bulbous purple nose squashed hard to one side, like a small, mistreated turnip. ~ Sara Donati, #NFDB
480:Cincinnati, I thought, was the most beautiful of the inland cities of the Union. From the tower of its unsurpassed hotel the city spreads far and wide its pageant of crimson, purple and gold, laced by silver streams that are great rivers. ~ Winston S Churchill, #NFDB
481:I’ll call Rosie and see what I can do,” she muttered, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Blue with light purple hair. And that Harley Quinn courier bag.
How could you not want to fuck this chick? Of course I was hard. She looked like a rainbow. ~ L J Shen,#NFDB
482:I look just like one of Brianna’s UGLY finger paintings. Because now I’m completely covered with: 1. brown peanut-butter stains 2. purple jelly stains 3. white soap suds AND 4. bright fluorescent-green hand soap from the girls’ bathroom. ~ Rachel Ren e Russell, #NFDB
483:Meanwhile the castle rolled. Great walls collapsed, one into another.
The colours of the tracts were horrible. The vilest green. The most hideous purple. Here the foul shimmering of rotting fungi – there a tract of books alive with mice. ~ Mervyn Peake,#NFDB
484:The sun kept dipping down into the ocean and the lights came on at the harbor, casting sudden shadows on the ground, illuminating the faces that were just a second ago silhouettes. The sky was golden and purple, the ocean a darker shade of violet. ~ Adi Alsaid, #NFDB
485:The panel on the right portrayed Jesus emerging from his tomb, as Mary Magdalene, in a red dress (also iron, or perhaps grated particles of gold), holds out to him a purple garment (manganese dioxide) and a loaf of yellow bread (silver chloride). ~ Alan Bradley, #NFDB
486:I decided I should use the most obvious colours - the basic colours with simple names: red, purple, yellow, pink. I don't distort the objects, I don't change the objects, I draw them exactly as they are. I do the opposite with the colours. ~ Michael Craig Martin, #NFDB
487:O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson, #NFDB
488:The Last Noel by Jean Hager, A Holly, Jolly Murder by Joan Hess, Midnight Clear by Kathy Hogan Trocheck, Mistletoe from Purple Sage by Barbara Burnett Smith, Ransome for a Holiday by Fred Hunter and We Wish You a Merry Murder by Valerie Wolzien. ~ Carolyn G Hart, #NFDB
489:The North Country is purple, and it's the Country of the Gillikins. The East Country is blue, and that's the Country of the Munchkins. Down at the South is the red Country of the Quadlings, and here, in the West, the yellow Country of the Winkies. ~ L Frank Baum, #NFDB
490:Deep purple moved through the blue as Pike left. Pike was creepy good at this stuff, but Pike had taken a serious risk by entering Jon’s home. A cocked-and-locked Kimber .45 was only inches away, not that it had done Jon any good. Embarrassing. Jon ~ Robert Crais, #NFDB
491:Food tastes like nothing. Colors go flat. Music hurts, and so do memories. You look at something you’d otherwise find beautiful—a purple sky at sunset or a playground full of kids—and it only somehow deepens the loss. Grief is so lonely this way. ~ Michelle Obama, #NFDB
492:Look down fair moon and bathe this scene, Pour softly down night’s nimbus floods on faces ghastly, swollen, purple, On the dead on their backs with arms toss’d wide, Pour down your unstinted nimbus sacred moon. —Walt Whitman Sequel to Drum-Taps ~ Michael McDowell, #NFDB
493:Purple,
Wonder, majesty, and enchantment doesn't
even begin to cover the feelings that I had the first time that I met you that only grew. The feeling was nameless, but as time went on it developed a name. Eponine, I adore
you… ~Riley ~ Ottilie Weber,#NFDB
494:With wings like clear ice, the purple-black fairy flew down and pressed her tiny lips to Ilyenna’s. Suddenly, the cold embraced her like an old friend. She felt as if winter’s secrets were hidden somewhere deep inside her, waiting to be discovered. ~ Amber Argyle, #NFDB
495:and then he could not see her come into a room without a sense of the flowing of robes, of the flowering of blossoms, of the purple waves of the sea, of all things that are lovely and mutable on the surface but still and passionate in their heart. ~ Virginia Woolf, #NFDB
496:Coloring excited him, not the act of filling in space, but choosing colors that no one else would select. In the green of the hills he saw red. Purple snow, green skin, silver sun. He liked the effect it had on others, that it disturbed his siblings. ~ Patti Smith, #NFDB
497:For thirty years you couldn’t possibly make it unless you were white, sleek, nicely spoken, and phony to your toenails—suddenly now you could be black, purple, moronic, delinquent, diseased, or almost anything on earth, and you could still clean up. ~ Greil Marcus, #NFDB
498:His sister, clad in a high-necked white lace gown, was silhouetted against a row of black and purple robes. Poppy looked angelic, bathed in light from a narrow rectangular window, a veil cascading down her back from a neat coronet of white rosebuds. ~ Lisa Kleypas, #NFDB
499:[...] Howard Phillips Lovecraft of Providence, Rhode Island, for cultivating a florid and overblown prose style that covered the entire spectrum from purple to ultraviolet and took sixteen volumes of interminable epistles to get to the point [...] ~ Charles Stross, #NFDB
500:My mother must have bathed me hundreds of times. But it's my father rinsing me off with the purple metal cup that I remember most clearly. The suffusion of warmth as the hot water sluiced over me...
...the sudden, unbearable cold of its absence. ~ Alison Bechdel,#NFDB
501:purple pebble he is balancing on the back of his hand. It disappears. ‘What’s that?’ I ask. He turns over his hand and the pebble reappears on his palm. ‘I have no idea, but it would be a killer conversation starter with the ladies, don’t you think? ~ Pittacus Lore, #NFDB
502:They had fallen into that instant, easy friendship which feels as though it had begun before any of your memories and will last until you are so old that the humped veins on the back of your hands show dark blue-purple through your wax-white skin. ~ Peter Dickinson, #NFDB
503:hair pulled back in a little ponytail with pieces tucked behind each ear, and she’s wearing skinny jeans, a tight purple button-down, gray Converse, and thick, black-framed glasses that added up make her look like an impossibly cute hipster librarian. ~ Una LaMarche, #NFDB
504:She was dressed in Seventies American Hooker—fishnet stockings, high boots (those two looks seemed to be a contradiction), a skirt that covered up as much of her as, say, a belt would, and a purple top so tight it could have been sausage casing. Myron ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
505:The sun was crouched on its haunches over the Pioneers. The mountains were both purple and brown, the angle of light hitting the moiré of pine and fir and bleeding out a smoky mirage that made the valley seem to tremble. It was a sight. We both looked. ~ Reif Larsen, #NFDB
506:Day came, priest of a sacrifice of joy
Into the worshipping silence of her world;
He carried immortal lustre as his robe,
Trailed heaven like a purple scarf and wore
As his vermilion caste-mark a red sun. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Finding of the Soul,#NFDB
507:Not hungry,’ Case managed. His brain was deep-fried. No, he decided, it had been thrown into hot fat and left there, and the fat had cooled, a thick dull grease congealing on the wrinkled lobes, shot through with greenish-purple flashes of pain. ‘You ~ William Gibson, #NFDB
508:Do you own anything not pink? (Talon) I have a purple razor if you’d rather. (Sunshine) Please. (Talon) (She pulled out a darker pink one.) That’s not purple. It’s pink too. (Talon) Well, that’s all I have unless you want my X-Acto blade. (Sunshine) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon, #NFDB
509:the more crowded the marketplace, the busier your customers, the more you need the Purple Cow. Half-measures will fail. Overhauling the product with dramatic improvements in things the right customers care about, on the other hand, can have a huge payoff. ~ Seth Godin, #NFDB
510:But I'd also learned that-in love-nothing makes sense. I didn't make sense. I didn't understand myself. Down is up and up is purple. The sky is drawer. The moon is goat.
In love, everything was nonsense.
Bu maybe that also means anything is possible. ~ Penny Reid,#NFDB
511:I rode Caro's bike down a hill with no hands, and then I went sock shopping because I was sad to say goodbye to Alfred, and the socks were cute, but there was this purple lace bra." She ground to a halt, cheeks steaming. "It was the same color as Alfred. ~ Debora Geary, #NFDB
512:I scarcely ever," he said, with an unconscious and colossal arrogance, "hear of anything on the face of the earth that I do not understand at once, without going to see it." And he led the way out into the purple night.
The Club of Queer Trades ~ G K Chesterton,#NFDB
513:And there's 'Three Chimneys' done in the purple primroses," said Phyllis. "And that little tiny rose-bud is Mother looking out for us when we're late for tea. Peter invented it all, and we got all the flowers from the station. We thought you'd like it better. ~ E Nesbit, #NFDB
514:Certainly, families like Harriet’s (and Hely’s) would not tolerate for one moment brick-throwing at children white or black (“or purple,” as Edie was fond of piping up in any discussion about skin color). And yet there Harriet was, at the all-white school. ~ Donna Tartt, #NFDB
515:After all, it is easy to forget that psychiatric diagnoses are human constructs, and not handed down from an all-knowing God on stone tablets; to “have schizophrenia” is to fit an assemblage of symptoms, which are listed in a purple book made by humans. ~ Esm Weijun Wang, #NFDB
516:His eyes were so bright and so blue, like the waters of the Caribbean, clear and deep and full of bright yellow fish and purple ferns and red coral, and they were pulling me in, those eyes, and I was going under, ready to hold my breath and take the dive... ~ Mary Simses, #NFDB
517:The fire crackled. On Jutaire, without oxygen, the fire is different. Fed by different air. Maybe it wishes it were orange, for it sputters and reaches up to the sky with angry fists of blue and purple. It still doesn't know we can't all get what we want. ~ Hafsah Laziaf, #NFDB
518:Wait, I want more green. I hope I did not imply I only wanted your colors. We can't turn a cold shoulder to green, and blue, and purple, for the sake of all ordered things, how can you dismiss purple? Celi, call Nom back and tell him of my need for purple! ~ Shannon Hale, #NFDB
519:I love, love, love apricot baby food. My closet in the kitchen is filled with jars of it. I love Lucky Charms and Cocoa Pebbles cereal. I love my purple couch, and I love dancing. I used to have the best stuffed animals, but Samson [her dog] ate them. ~ Alicia Silverstone, #NFDB
520:In 2012 Roger Ailes, you know, desperately tried to get who into the race? Chris Christie, a somewhat moderate if tough talking from a purple state. They were very interested this David Petraeus, a figure who served in the Obama administration as CIA chief. ~ Donald Trump, #NFDB
521:AMETHYST (A'METHYST) n.s.[al contrary to wine, or contrary to drunkenness; so called, either because it is not quite of the colour of wine, or because it was imagined to prevent inebriation.] A precious stone of a violet colour, bordering on purple. The ~ Samuel Johnson, #NFDB
522:How are you doing that?” demanded Hermione, who was red-faced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple. “Add a clockwise stir —” “No, no, the book says counterclockwise!” she snapped. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
523:Always been purple. Like I remember being in the first grade, looking up at the color charts, and saying, 'Man, purple is the best color, man, it's the best color, it just is the best color.' I have a lot of purple shirts and stuff, I'm always wearing purple. ~ Synyster Gates, #NFDB
524:D’yer see it? This finger, laddie, could send ye to meet yer Maker!”
Sgt. Deisenburger stared at the black and purple nail a few inches from his face. As an offensive weapon it rated quite highly, especially if it was ever used in the preparation of food. ~ Terry Pratchett,#NFDB
525:It was wonderful country that faced him, cedar, piñon and sage, colored hills and flats, walls of yellow rock stretch away, and dim purple mountains all around. If his keen eyes did not deceive him there was a bunch of wild horses grazing on top of the first hill. ~ Zane Grey, #NFDB
526:Peace offering?” I heard Elec say. When I turned around, to my mortification, he was standing there with a dick in his hands. Not any dick. My dick. My vibrator. My purple life-sized rubber penis. Elec waved it. “Nothing says I’m sorry like a dick and a smile. ~ Penelope Ward, #NFDB
527:The purple light or glow, which appears roughly fifteen or twenty minutes after sunset... looks like an isolated bright spot fairly high in the sky over the place the sun has set, and then it quickly expands and sinks until it blends with the colors underneath. ~ James Elkins, #NFDB
528:I close my eyes.. think of how beautiful it would be if someone came to find me.. if I froze in the snow with angel wings pressed into the ground.. my lips a pretty purple-blue.. my eyelids pink and my skin pale.. how beautiful they would say I was.. how perfect. ~ Brian James, #NFDB
529:Purple,
Wonder, majesty, and enchantment doesn't
even begin to cover the feelings that I had the first time that I met you that only grew. The feeling was nameless, but as time went on it developed a name. Eponine, I adore
you… ~ Ottilie WeberRiley ~ Ottilie Weber,#NFDB
530:The dusk had arrived on the wings of a night moth, silent and soft. The sky above me darkened to a deep, beautiful purple. Stars glowed high above, and below them, as if inspired by their light, tiny fireflies awoke and crawled from their shelter in the leaves. ~ Ilona Andrews, #NFDB
531:But then the pastors and men of God can only be human,--cannot altogether be men of God; and so they have oppressed us, and burned us, and tortured us, and hence come to love palaces, and fine linen, and purple, and, alas, sometimes, mere luxury and idleness. ~ Anthony Trollope, #NFDB
532:He gives me one of those twinkling stares. His eyes coalesce and fragment color, glinting specks of midnight purple and an electric blue, when the light catches them just right. Straight on they look like indelible pitch, well deep with secrets and primordial darkness. ~ Poppet, #NFDB
533:It sounds dumb, but one of the first things I'd thought of was that I'd look like the Vandy: covered in swirling purple markings, even on my face. It wouldn't be an easy thing to explain away in the human world, but I was hoping "crazy spring break" might work. ~ Rachel Hawkins, #NFDB
534:Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. ~ Mark Twain, #NFDB
535:Once you're a mother, you're always a mom. So it doesn't matter if your child comes out green, purple, bisexual or whatever. That's who they are and you love them regardless. You guide them as best as you can. We must always proceed with love first and foremost. ~ Tichina Arnold, #NFDB
536:A lane of Yellow led the eye
A lane of Yellow led the eye
Unto a Purple Wood
Whose soft inhabitants to be
Surpasses solitude
If Bird the silence contradict
Or flower presume to show
In that low summer of the West
Impossible to know ~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
537:I saw Deep Purple live once and I paid money for it and I thought, 'Geez, this is ridiculous.' You just see through all that sort of stuff. I never liked those Deep Purples or those sort of things. I always hated it. I always thought it was a poor man's Led Zeppelin. ~ Angus Young, #NFDB
538:so thick with cobwebs it seemed like skeletons had decorated for a party. Raven fought her way through the webs to the far wall and ripped the velvet cloth off the mirror. She saw her own reflection staring back—long black hair with purple highlights, dark eyebrows, ~ Shannon Hale, #NFDB
539:Do you own anything not pink? (Talon)
I have a purple razor if you’d rather. (Sunshine)
Please. (Talon)
(She pulled out a darker pink one.)
That’s not purple. It’s pink too. (Talon)
Well, that’s all I have unless you want my X-Acto blade. (Sunshine) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,#NFDB
540:My mother was always in those films where it's the end of the world and a meteor's about to hit London; there's only six people left, and one of them's in purple underwear. That was always my mother, running from this meteor in purple underwear and spraining her ankle. ~ Paula Yates, #NFDB
541:There is no Google maps app for your life. There is no clearly marked destination — a blue dot — with an illuminated purple line showing you the correct path, where you should go and how you should get there and when you have deviated from it. And that really sucks. ~ Mishka Shubaly, #NFDB
542:the tundra was even more beautiful—a glistening gold, and its shadows were purple and blue. Lemon-yellow clouds sailed a green sky and every wind-tossed sedge was a silver thread. “Oh,” she whispered in awe, and stopped where she was to view the painted earth. ~ Jean Craighead George, #NFDB
543:Oh, this was a cold day
In Peter's wonderful town!
The shadow grew dense, and the sundown
Like purple fire lay.
Let him not want my eyes fair
Prophetic and never-changing
All life long verse he'll be catching -
My conceited lips' empty prayer. ~ Anna Akhmatova,#NFDB
544:parents needn't bother driving small children around to see the purple mountains' majesties; the children will go right on duking it out in the back seat and whining for food as if you were showing them Cincinnati. No one under twenty really wants to look at scenery. ~ Barbara Holland, #NFDB
545:New Feet
EMPTY battlefields keep their phantoms.
Grass crawls over old gun wheels
And a nodding Canada thistle flings a purple
Into the summer's southwest wind,
Wrapping a root in the rust of a bayonet,
Reaching a blossom in rust of shrapnel.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
546:The worst gig story I have is from a club in Alabama that I think is still up and running, so I won't name the name of the club. We got hired in there to play, and the owner was pretty annoying. He kept coming up to me during the show and asking me to play 'Purple Rain.' ~ Jason Aldean, #NFDB
547:I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation... so when I meet someone who's an 8-color type... I'm like, 'Hey girl, magenta!' and she's like, 'Oh, you mean purple!' and she goes off on her purple thing, and I'm like, 'No - I want magenta!' ~ John Mayer, #NFDB
548:Never comes the trader, never floats an European flag,—
Slides the bird o’er lustrous woodland, swings the trailer from the crag,—
Droops the heavy-blossomed bower, hangs the heavy-fruited tree,—
Summer isles of Eden lying in dark-purple spheres of sea. ~ Alfred Tennyson,#NFDB
549:The columbine and iris bowed down to make way for bolder sprays of red valerian, and a mingled profusion of clustered Canterbury bells and sweet william, pale blues and pinks intertwined, danced at the feet of more stately spears of deep-purple foxglove and monkshood. ~ Susanna Kearsley, #NFDB
550:The sky pales and a soft apricot glow tinges the clouds lavender as the sun rises. It’s beautiful. The sky streaks purple, orange, red before settling on its usual self-conscious blue as if it could never be more than that. But we’re all more than we think. Than we feel. ~ Louise Jensen, #NFDB
551:we were never meant to be what we are or where we are, we are looking for an escape, some music from the sun, the girl we never found. we are betting on the miracle again there before the purple mountains as the horses parade past so much more beautiful than our lives. ~ Charles Bukowski, #NFDB
552:The sky pales and a soft apricot glow tinges the clouds lavender as the sun rises. It’s beautiful. The sky streaks purple, orange, red before settling on its usual self-conscious blue as if it could never be more than that. But we’re all more than we think. Than we feel. I ~ Louise Jensen, #NFDB
553:Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin, To the Islands of the Blessed, To the Kingdom of Ponemah, To the Land of the Hereafter! ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, #NFDB
554:A dark-haired woman in a long skirt strolled through the door. The little boy perched on her hip clutched a purple bear. Amanda tilted her head to see both the boy and the bear better. The boy squirmed, and his mother set him down on the floor while she went up to the counter. ~ Wendy Mass, #NFDB
555:Dead?’ No, I thought to myself, he was in remarkably fine spirits, actually, despite the rope round his neck. His face was purple and his breathing a little . . . absent, but he seemed frightfully well, considering. I decided not to say that, though. Be polite, Flo, I thought. ~ T E Kinsey, #NFDB
556:I could not help staring back, for they made quite a contrast: Kate's pale skin and elegant purple suit, Nadira's dusky skin and exotic fiery sari.
"Do we clash?" Nadira said dryly.
"We certainly do," said Kate. "Would you like me to move?"
"Don't trouble yourself. ~ Kenneth Oppel,#NFDB
557:I thought symphaths didn't have a conscience."
"I'm half my mother's boy, too. So I have a little."
"Aren't you lucky."
The Reverend's chin dipped down, and his eyes flashed pure, purple evil for a split second. Then he smiled. "No… all the rest of you are fortunate. ~ J R Ward,#NFDB
558:Amos clapped his hands. “Khufu!” I thought he’d sneezed, because Khufu is a weird name, but then a little dude about three feet tall with gold fur and a purple shirt came clambering down the stairs. It took me a second to realize it was a baboon wearing an L.A. Lakers jersey. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
559:It turns out that the 'Cry It Out' method of baby sleep training, where you ignore that your kid is screaming, crying and turning 40 shades of purple so that she can break herself out of the habit of being spoiled and cuddled to sleep, does more harm - way more - than good. ~ Denene Millner, #NFDB
560:Then Belmont discovered the carnival world of Louisiana politics, in the way a mental patient might wander into a theme park for the insane and realize that life held more promise than he had ever dreamed.
Burke, James Lee. Purple Cane Road (Dave Robicheaux Book 11) ~ James Lee Burke,#NFDB
561:The Prophet
Ah, my darling, when over the purple horizon shall loom
The shrouded mother of a new idea, men hide their faces,
Cry out and fend her off, as she seeks her procreant groom,
Wounding themselves against her, denying her fecund embraces.
~ David Herbert Lawrence,#NFDB
562:The purple, formalized, iridescent, gelatinous bladder of a Portuguese man-of-war was floating close beside the boat. It turned on its side and then righted itself. It floated cheerfully as a bubble with its long deadly purple filaments trailing a yard behind in the water. ~ Ernest Hemingway, #NFDB
563:was magnificent. Her long, black hair hung down to her waist and her soft golden skirt caught on the grass as she walked, released and then caught again. She wore a purple tunic with a woven leather belt and a medallion that hung low on one hip. On her shoulder, she carried a ~ Marti Talbott, #NFDB
564:he was the heir to a fortune earned principally by a quack medicine known as “Saint Elmo’s Remedy.” It was grain alcohol dyed purple, flavored with cloves and sarsaparilla root, and laced with opium and cocaine. As the joke goes: It was absolutely harmless unless discontinued. ~ Kurt Vonnegut, #NFDB
565:I would really like to have had the guts and the energy and so on to be able to write about, you know, people having battles with the DHSS. But I...I haven't. They're dull things. I mean, I'm an arty person. OK, I write overblown, purple, self-indulgent prose. So fucking what? ~ Angela Carter, #NFDB
566:Jack met Kwan’s eyes, glanced away, then looked back. Jack nodded once, kind of like saying hi, but Kwan did not respond. His lean face was all planes and angles, and as warm as a granite mask. He also had a split lip and a heavy purple bruise on his cheek from the guards. Jack ~ Robert Crais, #NFDB
567:Amos clapped his hands. “Khufu!”
I thought he’d sneezed, because Khufu is a weird name, but then a little dude about three feet tall with gold fur and a purple shirt came clambering down the stairs. It took me a second to realize it was a baboon wearing an L.A. Lakers jersey. ~ Rick Riordan,#NFDB
568:His youth had been so long ago that he could remember nothing of it but he presumed, erroneously, that he had tasted the purple fruit, had broken hearts and hymens, had tosses flowers to ladies on balconies, had drunk champagne out of their shoes and generally been irresistible. ~ Mervyn Peake, #NFDB
569:The reason I introduced sex - or erotic imagery - to Purple is not only because I don't want sex to be hidden but because also I consider it as an extension of fashion, the way the body expresses seduction and beauty. It's very artificial to put sex in a ghetto. Plus, sex sells. ~ Olivier Zahm, #NFDB
570:Wisps of arctic blue and green and purple buzzed and whirled within those sharp spikes, sending out a wild coruscation of coloured light. The aurora was mesmerizing and blinding at the same time, and little disco balls hoped that they could grow up to be half as brilliant one day. ~ Jim Butcher, #NFDB
571:What they would see first would be a darkening of the sky in the east—a change from empty blue to a grey-white that would gradually shade into a heavy, inky purple. And then there would be a wind—the wind that preceded a storm and carried the smell of rain on its breath. ~ Alexander McCall Smith, #NFDB
572:Don't order any black things. Rejoice in his memory; and be radiant: leave grief to the children. Wear violet and purple. Be patient with the poor people who will snivel: they don't know; and they think they will live for ever, which makes death a division instead of a bond. ~ George Bernard Shaw, #NFDB
573:Giovanni eyed her purple summer dress. “We were talking about our favorite colors. Mine is purple. So is Federico’s. That’s why he made the eggplant. Right, Federico?” “Absolutely, my friend!” Natalie smacked Giovanni on the arm. “Behave.” Giovanni smiled. “I’ll try. Nice to see you. ~ Rich Amooi, #NFDB
574:I had the misfortune of getting what skateboarders call hippers. It's when you fall on your hip again and again and again, just the same spot. It turns into like a blue purple bruise and it's just torture because I had to keep on doing the same move, going around in the pool again. ~ Emile Hirsch, #NFDB
575:The tinkle of a wind chime stirred from over a window. Purple and white phlox cascaded cheerfully over the top of a nearby stone wall. Sunlight sifted through the weave of her straw hat, casting freckles of light on her nose and cheeks that shifted, out of focus, as she walked. ~ Caragh M O Brien, #NFDB
576:Dusk, suggesting the almost imperceptible posession of giant trees, settled with a purple haze about the cane. I felt strange, as I always do in Georgia, particularly at dusk. I felt that things unseen to men were tangibly immediate. It would not have surprised me had I had a vision. ~ Jean Toomer, #NFDB
577:The evening sky was streaked with purple, the color of torn plums, and a light rain had started to fall when I came to the end of the blacktop road that cut through twenty miles of thick, almost impenetrable scrub oak and pine and stopped at the front gate of Angola penitentiary. ~ James Lee Burke, #NFDB
578:For example, they recently had a piece on a character--I think his name was Ambrosio D'Urbervilles--whose "design statement" was to stuff an entire apartment from floor to ceiling with dark purple cottonballs. He called it "Portrait of a Dead Camel Dancing on the Roof of a Steambath. ~ Mark Helprin, #NFDB
579:I said to George Lucas, "I'd like a purple lightsaber." And he said, "Why?" and I said, "I just want to be able to find myself. I'm the most powerful Jedi in the universe, and I think it would be an interesting thing for me to have a different color lightsaber than anybody else." ~ Samuel L Jackson, #NFDB
580:Society has a hyper emphasis on thin, and that trend comes from the consumers - it does not come from the fashion industry. The fashion industry needs to make money; that's what we do. If people said, 'We want a 300 pound purple person,' the first industry to do it would be fashion. ~ Kelly Cutrone, #NFDB
581:Van Eck turned up the light on one of the lanterns, and Kaz saw a body in a purple uniform slumped on the floor, eyes closed. Van Eck sighed and crouched down to turn the body over. “We’ve lost another,” he said. The boy was young, the bare scraps of a mustache on his upper lip. Van ~ Leigh Bardugo, #NFDB
582:You married me while I was sleeping?" I asked in amazement. They sky was beginning to bruise with the purple haze, and in it, I could see Chase's face glow a little deeper copper.
"You hit me for kissing you. It seemed in my best interest to marry you while you were passed out. ~ Kristen Simmons,#NFDB
583:A storm was brewing. The wind has picked up and a mass of purple clouds was coming in from the West. It felt good to have my hair whipping around my head. I thought it might feel good to have hail beat down on me. Sometimes storms outside are the only relief for storms inside... ~ Elizabeth Chandler, #NFDB
584:Streetlamps and security lights blazed hot in the confined lane, giving the mist a purple-blue glow. Pike stopped outside Dru’s house. A few windows glowed dull ocher in the surrounding houses, but most were dark and all were quiet. No one was awake. Even Jared’s window was dark. Pike ~ Robert Crais, #NFDB
585:Purple Cow (SETH GODIN) - Your Highlight on page 85 | location 1290-1291 | Added on Friday, 6 June 2014 10:26:03 What you need is the insight to realize that you have no other choice but to grow your business or launch your product with Purple Cow thinking. Nothing else is going to work. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
586:Nature is sanative, refining, elevating. How cunningly she hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses, and violets, and morning dew! Every inch of the mountains is scarred by unimaginable convulsions, yet the new day is purple with the bloom of youth and love. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, #NFDB
587:The moon, a sliver of white light, rose a hand above the horizon, then, tired, fell back. The purple blackness overhead faded into grey, the grey into pale blue; this was followed quickly by pastel reds and oranges, and finally, yellow rays streamed through the trees as the sun climbed. ~ Eden Robinson, #NFDB
588:PANTS: DARK PURPLE WITH A gold stripe up either side. Pressed and creased sharply down the middle, of course. Subtly flared at the hems over shined and waxed narrow-tip dewback-skin boots, sloping inward and tight toward the top. Tight enough for a bulge and the insinuation of an ass. ~ Daniel Jos Older, #NFDB
589:Stripped of the diadem and purple, clothed in a vile habit, and loaded with chains, he was transported in a small boat to the Imperial galley of Heraclius, who reproached him with the crimes of his abominable reign. "Wilt thou govern better?" were the last words of the despair of Phocas. ~ Edward Gibbon, #NFDB
590:The Mountains—grow Unnoticed
757
The Mountains—grow unnoticed—
Their Purple figures rise
Without attempt—Exhaustion—
Assistance—or Applause—
In Their Eternal Faces
The Sun—with just delight
Looks long—and last—and golden—
For fellowship—at night—
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
591:They were intimidating, big, and didn’t appear to trust me. I wondered if I seemed dangerous to them, all five feet six inches of me. I glanced down at my skimpy white shorts and purple tank top and wondered if they considered the fact it would be impossible to hide weapons in this outfit. ~ Abbi Glines, #NFDB
592:Men lived among mighty mountains and eternal forests for ages before they realized that they were poetical; it may reasonably be inferred that some of our descendants may see the chimney-pots as rich a purple as the mountain-peaks, and find the lamp-posts as old and natural as the trees. ~ G K Chesterton, #NFDB
593:You do realize this means you're leaving Birch and Scoff in charge of the Catacombs.... And you aren't worried that half of the caverns will be blown apart while we're gone? Or that we'll return to find the children have purple skin and hair that looks and smells like berries? - Charlotte ~ Andrea Cremer, #NFDB
594:A sane accusation can be refuted. An insane accusation, one that makes no sense on any level, cannot be refuted, cannot even be addressed, because it is insolent nonsense. There is no sober way to defend oneself from the accusation of being a one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater. ~ John C Wright, #NFDB
595:And I suspect, Mr. Potter, that if I leave you alone for two months with your schoolbooks, even without a wand, I will return to this house only to find a crater billowing purple smoke, a depopulated city surrounding it and a plague of flaming zebras terrorising what remains of England. ~ Eliezer Yudkowsky, #NFDB
596:her eyelids were colored purple, lined Cleopatra-style with kohl and fringed with the same heavy black lashes as yesterday. In the clear daylight I saw what I had not seen the night before: along the ruler-straight parting in Miss Winter’s copper curls was a narrow margin of pure white. ~ Diane Setterfield, #NFDB
597:It was higher than a big scythe blade and a very pale lavender above the dark blue water. It raked back and as the fish swam just below the surface the old man could see his huge bulk and the purple stripes that banded him. His dorsal fin was down and his huge pectorals were spread wide. ~ Ernest Hemingway, #NFDB
598:They greyhound whine with her, distressed by her distress. Sometimes, in a traitorous fugue, the dog forgot to be unhappy and ran off to chase purple butterflies or murder shrew-mice, or to piss a joyful stream onto the topiaries. But generally, if her mistress was crying, so was the puppy. ~ Karen Russell, #NFDB
599:Everyone could know what everyone else felt, and we could be more careful with each other, because you’d never want to tell a person whose skin was purple that you’re angry at her for being late, just like you would want to pat a pink person on the back and tell him, “Congratulations! ~ Jonathan Safran Foer, #NFDB
600:Hey, Kelsey." He squinted at her. "I knew the water in Charlotte was a problem, but I didn't know it made hair turn purple," he joked.
Kelsey smiled at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, it looks like the water here makes your hair fall out, so I guess I'll stick with Charlotte's. ~ Cindi Madsen,#NFDB
601:Low grass and green moss covered soil that, come summer, would turn arid and cracked. Cyclamens peeked out from under the shelter of rocks, pink and shy as brides. Along the path, tall stalks of purple brush-head flowers swayed in the breeze like a flock of hooded priests on the Via Dolorosa. ~ Talia Carner, #NFDB
602:The cable was still sending sharp sparks into the air. He could think of nothing in life that he especially desired, but those purple sparks--those wildly-blooming flowers of fire--he would trade his life for the chance to hold them in his hands."
-from "The Life of a Stupid Man ~ Ry nosuke Akutagawa,#NFDB
603:The spell of the desert comes back to me, as it always will come. I see the veils, like purple smoke, in the cañons, and I feel the silence. And it seems that again I must try to pierce both and to get at the strange wild life of the last American wilderness-- wild still, almost, as it ever was. ~ Zane Grey, #NFDB
604:To put is still more plainly: the desire for security and the feeling of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your breath is to lose your breath. A society based on the quest for security is nothing but a breath-retention contest in which everyone is as taut as a drum and as purple as a beet. ~ Alan Watts, #NFDB
605:Memories must enter the bloodstream, must churn awhile through the heart's mill, must be crushed and polished, be nearly forgotten or cling like burs to other stories before they spill forth in purple patterns, shapes of small bones and worm rot, shapes of clouds and the spaces between leaves. ~ Keith Miller, #NFDB
606:There is in them a softer fire than the ruby, there is the brilliant purple of the amethyst, and the sea green of the emerald - all shining together in incredible union. Some by their splendor rival the colors of the painters, others the flame of burning sulphur or of fire quickened by oil. ~ Pliny the Elder, #NFDB
607:These hapless livers were probably not always mere myths, and these legends which traced their spilt blood in the purple bloom of the violet, the scarlet stain of the anemone, or the crimson flush or the rose were no idle poetic emblem of youth and beauty fleeting as the Summer flowers. ~ James George Frazer, #NFDB
608:Well, I, Amber Brown, am green with envy.
I am not only green….. I am feeling blue….. I am seeing red….. I am purple with anger….. I am not feeling like a rainbow. I am feeling plaid. All of these colors mix together to make a not very pretty pattern.
I, Amber Brown, do not like plaid. ~ Paula Danziger,#NFDB
609:Subpersonalities can exist at different levels or memes, however, so that one can indeed have a purple subpersonality, a blue subpersonality, and so on. These often are context-triggered, so that one can have quite different types of moral responses, affects, needs, etc., in different situations. ~ Ken Wilber, #NFDB
610:To put is still more plainly: the desire for security and the feeling of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your breath is to lose your breath. A society based on the quest for security is nothing but a breath-retention contest in which everyone is as taut as a drum and as purple as a beet. ~ Alan W Watts, #NFDB
611:The Beatles aren’t exactly obscure.”
“No, they aren’t,” Conley answers. “However, creativity can bend in different ways. Only in your dimension did the Beatles sing about a purple submarine. There are a couple of ‘Big Green Submarines’ out there in the multiverse, but usually it’s yellow. ~ Claudia Gray,#NFDB
612:But when I touch you, your aura … it smolders. The colors deepen, it burns more intensely, the purple increases. Why? Why, Sydney?” He used that hand to pull me closer. “Why do you react that way if I don’t mean anything to you?” There was a desperation in his voice, and it was legitimate. ~ Richelle Mead, #NFDB
613:Pex and Chips were closer now, discussing the merits of various fictional characters.
'Captain Hook rocks,' said Pex. 'He would kick Barney's purple butt ten times out of ten.'
Chips sighed. 'You're missing the whole point of Barney. It's a values thing. Butt-kicking is not the issue. ~ Eoin Colfer,#NFDB
614:Some of my best friends have written Broadway shows. Allee Willis and Brenda Russell wrote The Color Purple which has been recently revived on Broadway. That to me is such a different hat that you have to wear, but music is music. A Broadway show is something I would love to have the opportunity to do. ~ Dave Koz, #NFDB
615:Always Mine!
839
Always Mine!
No more Vacation!
Term of Light this Day begun!
Failless as the fair rotation
Of the Seasons and the Sun.
Old the Grace, but new the Subjects—
Old, indeed, the East,
Yet upon His Purple Programme
Every Dawn, is first.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
616:I did tell you," I said. "I told you at Mac's that I'd give you a ride home, but I had to run an errand first."
Thomas scowled. "An *errand* is getting a tank of gas or picking up a carton of milk or something. It is *not* getting chased by flying purple pyromaniac gorillas hurling incendiary poo. ~ Jim Butcher,#NFDB
617:There came a great roar, and Thor looked up to see the skies began to change, to morph into a dark purple, the clouds swirling and frothing. There appeared a round hole, an opening in the sky, and suddenly, a scarlet light shot down, and it was followed by a funnel cloud, lowering right down to them. ~ Morgan Rice, #NFDB
618:Does being forced to sit in time-out ever make little kids stop putting cats in the dishwasher or drawing on white walls with purple marker? Of course not. It teaches them to be sneaky and guarantees that when they get to high school they’ll love detention because it’s a great place to sleep. ~ Laurie Halse Anderson, #NFDB
619:For my eleventh birthday, Mom and Dad gave me my camera, the vintage one you already know about, with a purple strap and an old-school flash and an aperture that you rotate by hand. All the kids at school use their phones as cameras—but I wanted something solid, something real. It was love at first ~ Victoria Schwab, #NFDB
620:Home
Every room should include something purple
Keep pens, a notepad, and a pair of scissors in every room
Write down anything I need to remember
If something’s important to me, I should reserve time for it in my schedule, make a place for it in my home, and build relationships around it ~ Gretchen Rubin,#NFDB
621:I wondered if I would appear on a temple wall painting someday. A blonde Egyptian girl with purple highlights running sideways through the palm trees, screaming "Yikes!" in hieroglyphics as Neith chased after me. The thought of some poor archaeologist trying to figure that out almost lifted my spirits. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
622:The estate grounds, like the surrounding farmland, were beautifully maintained, with deep mature hedges and old stone walls covered with climbing roses and soft, fluttery bursts pf purple wisteria. Jasmine and honeysuckle perfumed the air where the carriages came to a slow halt in front of the portico. ~ Lisa Kleypas, #NFDB
623:I named my camel Katrina. She was a natural disaster. She slobbered everywhere and seemed to think the purple streak in my hair was some kind of exotic fruit. She was obsessed with trying to eat my head. I named Walt's camel Hindenburg. He was almost as large as a zeppelin and definitely as full of gas. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
624:There are great drifting theatre curtains in the sky, and they change color as she watches: green goes to purple, purple to vermilion, vermilion to a queer bloody shade of red she cannot name. Russet perhaps comes close, but that isn't it exactly. She thinks no one has ever named the shade she's seeing. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
625:Through the screen, he could smell the evening as though it were a living presence, the purple and yellow flowers in his yard and the dark green wetness of the fescue part of a song that was never supposed to die. Except he could feel things ending, coming apart at the center, and he didn’t know why. ~ James Lee Burke, #NFDB
626:2. Goth girls. Streaked purple and black hair, tattoos, a sexy little tramp stamp on the lower back, navel rings, tongue studs… nipple rings… ripped fishnets and high heels, dark clothes and dark moods. Makes me want to peel it all off and find the soft spots underneath, the sweetness at the center… mmmm. ~ Selena Kitt, #NFDB
627:Bunt was disgustedly drinking a pint of beer, eyeing the table with resentment, the dishes of sticky pork and soggy and wilted lettuce, the black vegetables, the gray broth, the purple meat. On one dish of yellow meat was a severed chicken’s head, its eyes blinded, its scalloped comb torn like a red rag. ~ Paul Theroux, #NFDB
628:I am a collector of notes upon subjects that have diversity — such as deviations from concentricity in the lunar crater Copernicus, and a sudden appearance of purple Englishmen — stationary meteor-radiants, and a reported growth of hair on the bald head of a mummy — and 'Did the girl swallow the octopus? ~ Charles Fort, #NFDB
629:I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.
What it do when it pissed off? I ast.
Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~ Alice Walker,#NFDB
630:Lo, the most excellent sun so calm and haughty, The violet and purple morn with just-felt breezes, The gentle soft-born measureless light, The miracle spreading bathing all, the fulfill'd noon, The coming eve delicious, the welcome night and the stars, Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land. ~ Walt Whitman, #NFDB
631:The walls billowed with printed fabric—yellow, green, indigo, purple—and a red hammer-and-sickle flag hung over the batik-draped mattress. It was as if a Russian cosmonaut had crashed in the jungle and fashioned himself a shelter of his nation’s flag and whatever native sarongs and textiles he could find. ~ Donna Tartt, #NFDB
632:A dark purple sky filled with the first few evening stars made her feel small. She smiled; that was what she expected from the sky. All her life, she'd gone out at night and stood beneath that blue velvet darkness. It was her temple, the true house of God, and it never failed to remind her of her place. ~ Kristin Hannah, #NFDB
633:As If I Asked A Common Alms
323
As if I asked a common Alms,
And in my wondering hand
A Stranger pressed a Kingdom,
And I, bewildered, stand—
As if I asked the Orient
Had it for me a Morn—
And it should lift its purple Dikes,
And shatter me with Dawn!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
634:Einstein's relativity work is a magnificent mathematical garb which fascinates, dazzles and makes people blind to the underlying errors. The theory is like a beggar clothed in purple whom ignorant people take for a king... its exponents are brilliant men but they are metaphysicists rather than scientists. ~ Nikola Tesla, #NFDB
635:When you said you had a prompting, what happened exactly?” asked Andy. “Oh, I received a sphere message.” “ I’m familiar with those. Was it purple and did it start with a trumpet blast?” laughed Andy. “As a matter of fact, it did,” responded Anta Emm. “How did you know?” “Lucky guess,” replied Andy, smiling. ~ L R W Lee, #NFDB
636:His jeans, dirty and torn, stuck to his legs, the ends of his shirt flapping from under a faded black leather jacket. He stopped and squinted over his shoulder, paranoia squeezing his gut. Intermittent flashes of lightning illuminated the landscape, casting an eerie purple-yellow hue across the terrain. ~ Rachel Amphlett, #NFDB
637:She emerged with a pink razor and toothbrush. Talon curled his lip at the thought of using such girly items. “Do you own anything not pink?” “I have a purple razor if you’d rather.” “Please.” She pulled out a darker pink one. “That’s not purple,” Talon said. “It’s pink too.” She rolled her eyes at him. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon, #NFDB
638:The ocean to my right was maroon, the sky above it silver. There were sand trails through the thick purple ice plant that grew along the roadside... but now the sky is the color of peaches...
It was a ball of bright saffron sinking into the sea, turning the water purple, the sky orange and green. ~ Andre Dubus III,#NFDB
639:An altered look about the hills; A Tyrian light the village fills; A wider sunrise in the dawn; A deeper twilight on the lawn; A print of a vermilion foot; A purple finger on the slope; A flippant fly upon the pane; A spider at his trade again; An added strut in chanticleer; A flower expected everywhere. ~ Emily Dickinson, #NFDB
640:O, blackberry tart, with berries as big as your thumb, purple and black, and thick with juice, and a crust to endear them that will go to cream in your mouth, and both passing down with such a taste that will make you close your eyes and wish you might live for ever in the wideness of that rich moment. ~ Richard Llewellyn, #NFDB
641:Look at her, touching his cheek
to make a truce, her fingers
cool with spring rain;
in thin grass, bursts of purple crocus—
even here, even at the beginning of love,
her hand leaving his face makes
an image of departure
and they think
they are free to overlook
this sadness. ~ Louise Gl ck,#NFDB
642:The color of the emitted light depends on the relative heights of the starting and ending energy levels. A crash between closely spaced levels (such as two and one) releases a pulse of low-energy reddish light, while a crash between more widely spaced levels (say, five and two) releases high-energy purple light. ~ Sam Kean, #NFDB
643:The three of us [me, Mike Dean, Woody Weatherman] all learned how to play our instruments together. We had a common interest in bands like Black Sabbath, Deep Purple. Bands who had different time signatures etc and for whatever reason, we morphed into Corrosion of Conformity. It's been about thirty years now. ~ Reed Mullin, #NFDB
644:When he reached the Neva he stood still for a minute and turned a keen glance up the river into the smoky frozen thickness of the distance, which was suddenly flushed crimson with the last purple and blood -red glow of sunset, still smouldering on the misty horizon... . Night lay over the city, and the ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky, #NFDB
645:You are obvious, boy. You are difficult to miss. If you came to me in company with a purple lion, a green elephant, and a scarlet unicorn astride which was the King of England in his Royal Robes, I do believe that it is you and you alone that people would stare at, dismissing the others as minor irrelevancies. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
646:I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,' said Priscilla. 'Then your soul is a golden narcissus,' said Anne, 'and Diana's is like a red, red rose. Jane's is an apple blossom, pink and wholesome and sweet.' 'And our own is a white violet, with purple streaks in its heart,' finished Priscilla. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery, #NFDB
647:And when I fall in love,” I began, "I will build a mountain to touch the sky. Then, my lover and I will have the best of both worlds, reality firmly under our feet, while we have our heads in the clouds with all our illusions still intact. And the purple grass will grow all around, high enough to reach our eyes. ~ V C Andrews, #NFDB
648:He apologized when I was twelve. He was crying. I don't like to remember that. I like to remember the time he spelled and defined 'metamorphosis' when my mama was clean. He used her as an example, and he was chewing on the Popsicle stick left over from our lunch that day. When he smiled, his teeth were mad purple. ~ E R Frank, #NFDB
649:I resist the urge to claim some of the pretty purple flowers for myself, though Gaewha tries the scissors and then clutches some flowers in her hand, tightly, fiercely. We have never been allowed possessions of our own. [...] Gaewha huddles in a corner with the scissors, ready to defend her flowers to the death. ~ N K Jemisin, #NFDB
650:The sun goes down long and red. All the magic names of the valley unrolled—Manteca, Madera, all the rest. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
651:What a noise we'll make among the drab and dull, how we'll...wait, I want more green. I hope I did not imply I only wanted your colors. We can't turn a cold shoulder to green, and blue, and purple, for the sake of all ordered things, how can you dismiss purple? Call [him] back and tell him of my need of purple! ~ Shannon Hale, #NFDB
652:Barney, the big purple cartoon dinosaur with the perpetual stupid grin. Barney, and Smurfs, Mickey Mouse, unicorns, and a lot of other fictional characters were painted on the truck. Whoever decided which characters to paint on the truck had made interesting choices, like, why was Iron Man waving to the Smurfs? ~ Craig Alanson, #NFDB
653:Presumably the car at the gate was Matt, the man who would work over Priss, head to toes. Even from a distance, Matt looked flamboyant with bleached-blond hair, dark shades and a purple convertible.
It was unreasonable and it made little sense, but because he’d be working on Priss, Trace disliked him on sight. ~ Lori Foster,#NFDB
654:What a noise we'll make among the drab and dull, how we'll...wait, I want more green. I hope I did not imply I only wanted your colors. We can't turn a cold shoulder to green, and blue, and purple, for the sake of all ordered things, hour can you dismiss purple? Call [him] back and tell him off my need of purple! ~ Shannon Hale, #NFDB
655:I think they [Hillary and Bill Clinton] have been - they have shown over and over again that they're willing to be transparent and that they have gone beyond the letter of the law, to show that they're trying to make sure there are bright red, green, purple lines that will separate them from any type of conflict. ~ Donna Brazile, #NFDB
656:He speaks on, words washing over me, the way that sunlight skips over the surface of water and filters into the depths below, lighting up the darkness. I keep my eyes closed. Amazingly, I can still see the stars: whole galaxies blooming from nothing—pink and purple suns, vast silver oceans, a thousand white moons. ~ Lauren Oliver, #NFDB
657:Who could sit upon anything in Fleet-street during the busy hours of the day, and not be dazed and deafened by two immense processions, one ever tending westward with the sun, the other ever tending eastward from the sun, both ever tending to the plains beyond the range of red and purple where the sun goes down! ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
658:Charles had perished in Italy, like hundreds of other Japanese-Americans in the 442nd Infantry Regiment, which became known as the Purple Heart Battalion due to the extraordinary number of medals for valor it had been awarded. That regiment, made up entirely of nisei, was the most decorated in US military history, ~ Isabel Allende, #NFDB
659:In Rags Mysterious As These
117
In rags mysterious as these
The shining Courtiers go—
Veiling the purple, and the plumes—
Veiling the ermine so.
Smiling, as they request an alms—
At some imposing door!
Smiling when we walk barefoot
Upon their golden floor!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
660:What’s it about?” “It’s about how we fell in love.” She lowers her arm and retreats, step by step. I would’ve stopped if I thought she didn’t want me to come closer, but her purple eyes are shining. As soon as she reaches the wall, she sort of sinks into it, and I sink into her when I reach my destination. Her. Our ~ Saffron A Kent, #NFDB
661:You opened Pandora’s box within me. Set loose the imaginings and emotions of a mortal man. And there is no closing it ever again.” The jewels under his eyes twitch between dark purple and blue. “As much as I abhor being anything akin to human, Alyssa, I wouldn’t dare try to close it. Because that would mean losing you. ~ A G Howard, #NFDB
662:Listen, God love everything you love - and a mess of stuff you don't. But more than anything. God loves admiration.
You saying God vain? I ast.
Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the colour purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. ~ Alice Walker,#NFDB
663:They blew up your homes and demolished the grocery / stores and blocked the Red Cross and took away doctors / to jail and they cluster-bombed girls and boys / whose bodies / swelled purple and black into twice the original size / and tore the buttocks from a four month old baby / and then / they said this was brilliant ~ June Jordan, #NFDB
664:Vers Demode
For one, the amaryllis and the rose;
The poppy, sweet as never lilies are;
The ripen'd vine, that beckons as it blows;
The dancing star.
For one, the trodden rosemary and rue;
The bowl, dipt ever in the purple stream
And, for the other one, a fairer dueSleep, and no dream.
~ Dorothy Parker,#NFDB
665:You know all those TV shows where the perky twenty-something advertising assistant nabs a swell apartment with a flower planter, bright purple walls, and a reading nook on the Upper West Side? Or when the wet-behind-the-ears dude with an entry-level post at a magazine lands a swank bachelor pad in Tribeca? They lie. ~ Lauren Blakely, #NFDB
666:I dreamt I was a purple butterfly floating in the summer breeze. Then I woke up in a field of tall grass in the dirt.”
Her features crumpled and she threw her arms around me. “Oh, Cora, that must have been awful. How did you manage to get back here? You didn’t walk back naked, I hope. We don’t need the attention. ~ Andrea Heltsley,#NFDB
667:Mercury dropped the purple car and shot up into the air, whistling like a shooting star. The woman in the car next to me looked up at me like I was a superhero. I smiled at her and jumped down, trying to be smooth. I landed wrong and went sliding on my face. I glanced back at her. She appeared less impressed than before. ~ Obert Skye, #NFDB
668:And yet when you get right down to it, we’re all the same—rich, poor, old, young, fat, skinny, white, brown, or purple—pick your costume, none of it really matters too much. What does matter is whether or not we take offense when we think we’ve been wronged, regardless of who we think we are or what costume we’re wearing. ~ Ted Dekker, #NFDB
669:Many treatises have been written on the gulf in thinking between the Greens and Purples that led to the split (if they can ever have been said to be united), but by far the most famous is The Green and the Purple: Strange Bedfellows, an anonymously-penned sequence in the pro-New Tory political magazine The Professional: ~ Tom Anderson, #NFDB
670:And there are the girls—young, chocolate-skinned, ever-giggling naked girls with sleek wet bodies, rosebud nipples, long hair, coltish legs, and scarlet and purple petals folded behind their ears—who play in the white Indian Ocean surf and who run, quite without shame, along the cool wet sands on their way back home. ~ Simon Winchester, #NFDB
671:Those who must inevitably die ought not to worry overmuch about what accident will cause their death, but about their destination after dying. Christians know that the death of a poor religious man, licked by the tongues of dogs, is far better than the death of a godless rich man, dressed in purple and linen. ~ Saint Augustine of Hippo, #NFDB
672:I play these sort of comical instruments I invented, like the electric rake and the electric plunger. I do a lot of almost stand-up comedy material. Just the juxtaposition of the different styles in itself sometimes is funny. Like, I do sort of an acoustic version of 'Purple Haze' that has some bluegrass licks in it. ~ Eugene Chadbourne, #NFDB
673:A crimson fire that vanquishes the stars;A pungent odor from the dusty sage;A sudden stirring of the huddled herds;A breaking of the distant table-landsThrough purple mists ascending, and the flareOf water ditches silver in the light;A swift, bright lance hurled low across the world;A sudden sickness for the hills of home. ~ Willa Cather, #NFDB
674:I had the great idea of using markers to gently color the ants so I could tell them apart, but I learned that this is exactly like somebody trying to gently color on you with a thirty-story building.
Without dwelling on the tragedy, I'd just like to say that I'm deeply sorry to Mr. Purple and the surviving Purple family. ~ Jim Benton,#NFDB
675:The first one hundred pages were fueled by early Misfits (“Where Eagles Dare [fast version],” “Horror Business,” “Hybrid Moments”) and Blanck Mass (“Dead Format”). David Bowie is in every book, and I always put on Purple Rain and Daydream Nation when I write the final pages; so thanks to him and Prince and Sonic Youth. ~ Colson Whitehead, #NFDB
676:Historian Richard Slotkin has shown how the myth of Indian savagery was required to justify the subjugation of the tribes so that their prairie kingdoms could be seized by the Americans crossing the frontier after 1843. But that image, faithfully passed down by purple-sage novels and Hollywood westerns, is wildly inaccurate. ~ Rinker Buck, #NFDB
677:It is that time of evening when the sky shifts from indigo to violet. In sympathy, the sea has darkened to purple—a color that could earn the Homeric epithet “wine-dark.” Lights are just beginning to come on around the shoreline, like beads being strung, one by one, on a curved diadem crowning the amethyst brow of the bay. ~ Carol Goodman, #NFDB
678:I tremble with pleasure when I think that on the very day of my leaving prison both the laburnum and the lilac will be blooming in the gardens, and that I shall see the wind stir into restless beauty the swaying gold of the one, and make the other toss the pale purple of its plumes, so that all the air shall be Arabia for me. ~ Oscar Wilde, #NFDB
679:We were always told we were one step behind Deep Purple, one step behind Led Zeppelin, one step behind everybody. Our manager didn't want to let us know how popular we were. It's only after we did Ozzfest that people started telling me stuff. I thought they were taking the piss. People would come up to me and go, "Respect." ~ Ozzy Osbourne, #NFDB
680:What are those purple things?”
“Carrots.”
“Carrots are orange.”
“And purple.” He didn’t mention the turnips and cauliflower in the mix. He knew his quarry.
“Why would somebody dye a harmless carrot purple?”
“They’re not dyed, they’re natural. Have some more wine,” he said, topping off her glass, “and try them out. ~ J D Robb,#NFDB
681:Cass sank down next to her aunt and the old woman turned blazing eyes on her. Agnese’s face was as deeply wrinkled as the purple silk of her dress. “Where have you been?” she demanded.
Cass knew that she had been foolish to hope her aunt would be in a forgiving mood. Agnese hated crowds; she hated being jostled by strangers. ~ Fiona Paul,#NFDB
682:People talk about the beauty of the spring, but I can't see it. The trees are brown and bare, slimy with rain. Some are crawling with new purple hairs. And the buds are bulging like tumorous acne, and I can tell that something wet, and soft, and cold, and misshapen is about to be born.
And I am turning into a vampire. ~ M T Anderson,#NFDB
683:(wizards, even failed wizards, have in addition to rods and cones in their eyeballs the tiny octagons that enable them to see into the far octarine, the basic colour of which all other colours are merely pale shadows impinging on normal four-dimensional space. It is said to be a sort of fluorescent greenish-yellow purple). ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
684:I have no particular objection to people taking substances that make them feel better, or more contented or, for that matter, see little dancing purple fairies—or even their god if it comes to that. It’s their brain, after all, and society can have no claim on it, providing they’re not operating heavy machinery at the time. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
685:They sat together long into the night, basking in the glow of their newly professed love, talking until the light of day began to creep over the horizon in deep purple streaks and Alex was unable to keep her eyes open. Placing one final kiss on her forehead, Blackmoor snuck into the hallway and, unseen, found his own chamber. ~ Sarah MacLean, #NFDB
686:People talk about the beauty of the spring, but I can't see it. The trees are brown and bare, slimy with rain. Some are crawling with new purple hairs. And the buds are bulging like tumorous acne, and I can tell that something wet, and soft, and cold, and misshapen is about to be born. And I am turning into a vampire. ~ Matthew Tobin Anderson, #NFDB
687:Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragrant air. It was the most beautiful moment of all moments. ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
688:The stamps on the envelope were English. One was the head of a statesman engraved in purple and the others were motorcars engraved in blue. It seemed like every country in the world had stamps of statesmen and motorcars. Where were the stamps of the elevator boys and hapless housewives? Of the six-story walk-ups and soured wine? ~ Amor Towles, #NFDB
689:Lord, we flail. Forgive the lies we tell from purple thrones on TBN. Forgive the lies we tell in shrines. Forgive every attempt at self-redemption, the holy efforts we call our own, all the clawing we call resurrection. Bury us. Take us to helpless dust. Then roll away the stone and call us by our names. Make us all Lazarus. (125) ~ N D Wilson, #NFDB
690:He approached the task of finding good projects for his mission with the mindset of a marketer, systematically studying books on the subject to help identify why some ideas catch on while others fall flat. His marketing-centric approach is useful for anyone looking to wield mission as part of their quest for work they love. Purple ~ Cal Newport, #NFDB
691:After months of playing air guitar to 'Free Bird', what really got me into guitar was watching a documentary about Jimi Hendrix and picking up the Woodstock soundtrack. Listening to his version of 'Star Spangled Banner' and 'Purple Haze.' My brother played acoustic guitar and, idolising him, I thought, 'I'm going to get a guitar.' ~ Kirk Hammett, #NFDB
692:Seven, ten, fifteen, eighteen years old and still there is nothing finer than a blank sheet of paper, the white promise that the world can be what I make it. A magical place, an adventurous place, a possible place. Erasers take away the mistakes. Another coat of paint to cover them up. Black and red and purple and blue. Always Blue. ~ Stacey Jay, #NFDB
693:...the only light in this tiny-mooned night comes from the windows of the apartment building, a matching purple halo from each window, a dozen televisions all tuned to the pointless, empty, idiotic unreality o the same reality show, everyone watching in vacuous lockstep as true reality cruises slowly past outside licking its chops ~ Jeff Lindsay, #NFDB
694:Behind them in the garden the little stone house brooded among the shadows. It was lonely but not forsaken. It had not yet done with dreams and laughter and the joy of life; there were to be future summers for the little stone house; meanwhile, it could wait. And over the river in purple durance the echoes bided their time. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery, #NFDB
695:Infinite ambition and infinite loneliness, receiving neither help nor sympathy, I did it all for myself--navigation, mathematics, science, literature and what not. And history tells of opportunity that came to the slaves who rose to the purple. No man makes opportunity. All the great men ever did was to know it when it came to them. ~ Jack London, #NFDB
696:It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination, because wherever it appeared it was a sign that mere matter was a servant of the powers of the magical mind. It was enchantment itself. But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of greenish-purple. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
697:Gold, silver, jewels, purple garments, houses built of marble, groomed estates, pious paintings, caparisoned steeds, and other things of this kind offer a mutable and superficial pleasure; books give delight to the very marrow of one's bones. They speak to us, consult with us, and join with us in a living and intense intimacy. ~ Francesco Petrarca, #NFDB
698:I’d heard, once, that all the gods were defined by certain colours, but the only part of that particular lesson that had actually stuck with me had been the fact that Death’s colour was black. It just seemed so … predictable. Where’s the creativity, gods? I didn’t see why Death couldn’t have pink. Or purple. What if he liked sparkles? ~ Jaymin Eve, #NFDB
699:Do none of you ever walk?' I asked, baffled.
'And how do you keep from getting all over mud?" she said.
We both looked down. I was a good two inches deep in mud along all the bottom of today's skirt: bigger around than a wagon-wheel and made of purple velvet and silver lace.
'I don't,' I said glumly. ~ Naomi Novik,#NFDB
700:Probably the best way to describe my writing style is to refer you to "purple prose", which was a tag given to the early mass market magazine writers earning a half cent a word for their fiction. They had to use every adjective, verb and adverb in the English language to add word count to stories in order to feed and support families. ~ Tom Johnson, #NFDB
701:Rum and Coke, please," she told the bartender.
Maybe that was why Liza and Bonnie never had guy trouble: great hair. She looked at Liza, racehorse-thin in purple zippered leather...Okay it wasn't just the hair. If she jammed herself into liza's dress, she'd look like Barney's slut cousin.
"Diet Coke," she told the bartender. ~ Jennifer Crusie,#NFDB
702:Away acrost his valley he sees Black Mountain rising jagged to the sky...and if he looks to the left on past it, he sees all the furtherest ranges, line on line. Purple and blue and blue again and smoky until you can't tell the mountains apart from the sky. Lord, it'll make a man think something, seeing that. It'll make a man think deep. ~ Lee Smith, #NFDB
703:It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination, because wherever it appeared it was a sign that mere matter was a servant of the powers of the magical mind. It was enchantment itself.
But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of greenish-purple. ~ Terry Pratchett,#NFDB
704:She smiled brightly on Mrs. West. "Who's your dressmaker, Mrs. West?" she asked, with a view to avoiding the woman all costs. Such extremes of fashion as the purple shift dress which Mrs. West was almost wearing was not for Phryne. She preferred her personality to supply the outrageous edge to her appearance, not her exposed bosom. ~ Kerry Greenwood, #NFDB
705:A Slash Of Blue
204
A slash of Blue—
A sweep of Gray—
Some scarlet patches on the way,
Compose an Evening Sky—
A little purple—slipped between—
Some Ruby Trousers hurried on—
A Wave of Gold—
A Bank of Day—
This just makes out the Morning Sky.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
706:Beyonce, to me, doesn't have a f--king 'Purple Rain', but she's the biggest thing on Earth. How can you be that big without at least one 'Sweet Home Alabama' or 'Old Time Rock & Roll'? People are like, 'Beyonce's hot. Got a nice f--king ass.' I'm like, 'Cool, I like skinny white chicks with big t--s.' Doesn't really f--king do much for me. ~ Kid Rock, #NFDB
707:For my birthday this year, my girlfriends - who knew I'd just inherited my dad's turntable - gave me a carton of albums like "Blue Kentucky Girl," by Emmylou Harris, and "Off the Wall," by Michael Jackson. It's all stuff we grew up with. I mean, you can't have a music collection without Prince's "Purple Rain" - it just can't be done! ~ Connie Britton, #NFDB
708:The Law waits for you to stumble on a mode of being, a soul different from the FDA-approved purple-stamped standard dead meat - & as soon as you begin to act in harmony with nature the Law garottes & strangles you - so don't play the blessed liberal middleclass martyr - accept the fact that you're a criminal & be prepared to act like one. ~ Hakim Bey, #NFDB
709:Animals. Let them burn, then. Let the streets be filled with the smell of their sacrifice. Let this place be called racca, ichabod, wormwood.
Flex
And power transformers atop lightpoles bloomed into nacreous purple light, spitting catherine-wheel sparks. High-tension wires fell into the streets in pick-up-sticks tangles... ~ Stephen King,#NFDB
710:The sun tells the best joke of a day full of them, setting so spectacularly that you can almost smell the tropical paradise lazing somewhere over this rim of endless, gray socialist towers. Miles of square windows explode orange, red, and purple, like a million TV sets broadcasting the apocalypse. Clouds unspool. The sky drains of birds. ~ Tod Wodicka, #NFDB
711:The trader trusts his fortune to the sea and takes his gains,
The warrior, for his deeds, is girt with gold;
The wily sycophant lies drunk on purple counterpanes,
Young wives must pay debauchees or they're cold.
But solitary, shivering, in tatters Genius stands
Invoking a neglected art, for succor at its hands. ~ Petronius,#NFDB
712:Welcome to the American sector!
Feast your eyes on glorious Pluto, her wild frontier, her high standard of living, her rugged, hardworking citizens, her purple mountains majesty! Ride the mighty buffalo! Marvel at the bustling industry of the great cities of Jizo and Ascalaphus! Climb the peaks of Mt. Orcus and Mt. Chernobog! ~ Catherynne M Valente,#NFDB
713:I take in the large churches, the tall buildings that look like elegant wedding cakes, the city center and monuments. As we leave the city behind, I watch the landscape as Malachi naps with his head on my shoulder. I see so many green fields and squat trees with purple flowers and I find them all beautiful, but then, I doze off, too. ~ Elizabeth Acevedo, #NFDB
714:Revolution is the Pod
Revolution is the Pod
Systems rattle from
When the Winds of Will are stirred
Excellent is Bloom
But except its Russet Base
Every Summer be
The Entomber of itself,
So of Liberty Left inactive on the Stalk
All its Purple fled
Revolution shakes it for
Test if it be dead.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
715:You can’t miss your schedule. Every morning, you’re supposed to stick your right arm in this contraption in the wall. It tattoos the smooth inside of your forearm with your schedule for the day in a sickly purple ink. 7:00—Breakfast. 7:30—Kitchen Duties. 8:30—Education Center, Room 17. And so on. The ink is indelible until 22:00—Bathing ~ Suzanne Collins, #NFDB
716:The Garden
Excerpt from "Maud"
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,#NFDB
717:And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; — This it is, and nothing more. ~ Edgar Allan Poe, #NFDB
718:You wore Doc Martens and purple hair. I wore my insecurity on a button-up. it wasn't meant to be.
But then the unthinkable happened. I made you laugh. I can't remember the exact joke, which is surprising given my tendency to endlessly quote myself, but I know we were in English Class and I know it had something to do with Voltaire. ~ Allison Raskin,#NFDB
719:Piper knew that wasn’t exactly true. Looking at him, her heart did a little tap dance. Jason was dressed simply in jeans and a clean purple T-shirt, like he’d worn at the Grand Canyon. He had new trainers on, and his hair was newly trimmed. His eyes were the same colour as the sky. Aphrodite’s message was clear: This one needs no improvement. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
720:To me, my favorite comic book movies were the ones that were never based on comic books, like Unforgiven. That's more the kind of thing that get us inspired. Usually when you say something's a comic book movie, it means you turn on the purple and green lights. Suddenly that means it's more like a comic book, and It's not really like that. ~ Adrianne Palicki, #NFDB
721:Wadsworth Moor
Where the millstone of sky
Grinds light and shadow so purple-fine
And has ground it so long
Grinding the skin off the earth
Earth bleeds her raw true darkness
A land naked now as a wound
That the sun swabs and dabs
Where the miles of agony are numbness
And harebell and heather a euphoria ~ Ted Hughes,#NFDB
722:That man would betray his own shadow. And for what? A child's tale.'
'Is it?' Mag looked at her. 'Is it only a tale?'
For a moment, the purple eyes grew dark, black as the little rags of shadows that Mag saw on empty streets or patches of barren ground, attached to nothing, seemingly blown at random from some place adrift in light. ~ Patricia A McKillip,#NFDB
723:He scanned the crowd for Serena. She stood next to Jimena in silver hip huggers and a frosty top. Rhinestones and crystals sparkled in her hair like stars. Jimena wore a sequin-covered purple velvet dress. Their bodies glowed. He wanted to see a sadness on Serena's face that matched his own. Some sign that she missed him the way he ached for her. ~ Lynne Ewing, #NFDB
724:He took all his pain and what was left of his strength and his long gone pride and he put it against the fish's agony and the fish came over onto his side and swam gently on his side, his bill almost touching the planking of the skiff and started to pass the boat, long, deep, wide, silver and barred with purple and interminable in the water. ~ Ernest Hemingway, #NFDB
725:I'd loved for five long years, where pain had mingled with kisses and Michael's hugs suffocated me so much that I wasn't sure I could wriggle away enough to gasp for air. It was purple love, ugly and endearing, passionate and bruising like the tiny plum marks one left from sucking on a lover's neck. After loving like that, one needed a break.... ~ Kenya Wright, #NFDB
726:Summer explodes into Portland. In early June the heat was there but not the color--the green were still pale and tentative, the morning had a biting coolness--but by the last week of school everything is Technicolor and splash, outrageous blue skies and purple thunderstorms and ink-black night skies and red flowers as brights as spots of blood. ~ Lauren Oliver, #NFDB
727:How lovely she was in her raiments of silk and levantine purple; the fabric provocatively set off the sheen of her white shoulders, which glistened with the sweat of the world. I was on the verge of giving in to the dangerous enticements of her caresses when I realized that I recognized her from an earlier encounter, back at the dawn of time. ~ G rard de Nerval, #NFDB
728:She was wearing a wonderful Claudia outfit — a purple-and-white striped bodysuit under a gray jumper-thing. The legs of the bodysuit stretched all the way to her ankles, but she was wearing purple push-down socks anyway. Around her middle was a wide purple belt with a buckle in the shape of a telephone. And on her feet were black ballet slippers. ~ Ann M Martin, #NFDB
729:The Law waits for you to stumble on a mode of being, a soul different from the FDA-approved purple-stamped standard dead meat — & as soon as you begin to act in harmony with nature the Law garottes & strangles you — so don’t play the blessed liberal middleclass martyr — accept the fact that you’re a criminal & be prepared to act like one. ~ Hakim Bey, #NFDB
730:It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tendered kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet. ~ Washington Irving, #NFDB
731:The smell of manure, of sun on foliage, of evaporating water, rose to my head; two steps farther, and I could look down into the vegetable garden enclosed within its tall pale of reeds - rich chocolate earth studded emerald green, frothed with the white of cauliflowers, jeweled with the purple globes of eggplant and the scarlet wealth of tomatoes. ~ Doris Lessing, #NFDB
732:When I started reaching teenage years, I listened to everything that was on the radio like everyone else did, which was Chuck Berry, Beach Boys and then of course The Beatles, Stones. And of course in the 60's, I was completely blown away like everyone else by Hendrix, Cream, Deep Purple, Jeff Beck and all of that... so those were my influences. ~ Ronnie Montrose, #NFDB
733:And just as I was climbing into that first-class seat, and wrapping myself in a blanket, just as I was adjusting my pillow behind my head, and having a sip of that champagne, and just as I was bringing down and adjusting my Thai purple sleep mask, I had an inkling. I had a flash. I suddenly thought I knew what it was that had killed Marilyn Monroe. ~ Spalding Gray, #NFDB
734:During the siege of Panama, he trailed behind his comrades, picking up shreds of purple wool which had once been blue. The fighting was incredibly vicious, but there was a deeper quality to the havoc, an ineffable wiping of belief. Though he wore his name like a sealed pocket, it was picked when he passed into the Cup of Gold, city of burnished lips. ~ Rhys Hughes, #NFDB
735:It was a still afternoon - the golden light was lingering languidly among the upper boughs, only glancing down here and there on the purple pathway and its edge of faintly sprinkled moss; an afternoon in which destiny disguises her cold awful face behind a hazy radiant veil, encloses us in warm downy wings, and poisons us with violet-scented breath. ~ George Eliot, #NFDB
736:I was a strange child. I was the kid with funny hair listening to dodgy music [...] I'd come in with my hoodie and skate-shoes, with purple hair under the hood. I got away with it because I spent all my time in the art room, so they figured I was 'artistic'. I was that kind of kid, listening to Green Day and the Deftones and all that kind of thing. ~ Katie McGrath, #NFDB
737:Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Require sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear. ~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
738:Duane, you remember when we were kids? And we used to argue about everything? I mean, it didn’t matter what it was. If I said the sky was blue you would say it was purple.”
“Sometimes the sky is purple. Right now it’s indigo, almost black. You can’t just make a unilateralstatement that the sky is blue.”
“See? This is what I’m talking about ~ Penny Reid,#NFDB
739:Like Her The Saints Retire
60
Like her the Saints retire,
In their Chapeaux of fire,
Martial as she!
Like her the Evenings steal
Purple and Cochineal
After the Day!
"Departed"—both—they say!
i.e. gathered away,
Not found,
Argues the Aster still—
Reasons the Daffodil
Profound!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
740:Fred was afraid of the night, afraid his body would slip away from him, dissolve in that purple velvet with diamond eyes, the tropical night. The tropical night did not lie inert, like a painted movie backdrop, but was filled with whisperings, and seemed to have arms like the foliage.
Beauty was a drug. The small beach shone like mercury at their feet. ~ Ana s Nin,#NFDB
741:I think the reason why we got into such idiocy in investment management is best illustrated by a story that I tell about the guy who sold fishing tackle. I asked him, "My God, they're purple and green. Do fish really take these lures?" And he said, "Mister, I don't sell to fish." Investment managers are in the position of that fishing tackle salesman. ~ Charlie Munger, #NFDB
742:My metaphor for acting in movies - not on stage because it's completely different on stage - is to put colors on an easel for the director to paint his own painting with in the editing room, long after I've left. You buy me for red and black, so I better give you really great red and black, but if I can give you purple, pink, green and brown too, I will. ~ Scott Glenn, #NFDB
743:There are moments when Nature reveals the passion hidden beneath the careless calm of her ordinary moods-violent spring flashing white on almond-blossom through the purple clouds; a snowy, moonlit peak, with its single star, soaring up to the passionate blue; or against the flames of sunset, an old yew-tree standing dark guardian of some fiery secret. ~ John Galsworthy, #NFDB
744:how much is 2+2? Suppose Joseph says: 2+2 = purple, while Maxwell says: 2+2 = 17. Both are wrong but isn't it fair to say that Joseph is wronger than Maxwell?
Suppose you said: 2+2=an integer. You'd be right, wouldn't you? Or suppose you said: 2+2=an even integer. You'd be rather righter. Or suppose you said:2+2=3.999. Wouldn't you be nearly right? ~ Isaac Asimov,#NFDB
745:I'll get them out and come back. I promise."
"On your word as a cutthroat and a pirate?"
He touched my cheek once, briefly. "Privateer."
Another explosion rocked the grounds.
"Let's go!" shouted Mal.
As we sprinted into the tunnel, I glanced back and saw Nikolai silhouetted against the purple twilight. I wondered if I'd ever see him again. ~ Leigh Bardugo,#NFDB
746:The questions that I ask myself, I think they're very much to do with reality. I would really like to have had the guts and the energy and so on to be able to write about, you know, people having battles with the DHSS. But I...I haven't. They're dull things. I mean, I'm an arty person. OK, I write overblown, purple, self-indulgent prose. So fucking what? ~ Angela Carter, #NFDB
747:Watching you
stare into space in the tidy
rows of the vegetable garden, ostensibly
working hard while actually
doing the worst job possible, I think
you are a small irritating purple thing
and I would like to see you walk off the face of the earth
because you are all that's wrong with my life
and I need you and I claim you. ~ Louise Gl ck,#NFDB
748:And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is, and nothing more. ~ Edgar Allan Poe,#NFDB
749:Earlier today Brigid visited her favorite shop, Knit One Purl Too. She was running out of the fabulous purple Shibui yarn she’d bought last time. The minute she walked in the door and saw all the colorful skeins of yarn bundled along the walls, almost up to the ceiling, she felt her spirits lift. So much color, so much texture—such unlimited possibilities! ~ Shari Lapena, #NFDB
750:The field was empty now. The grasses had been laid flat by more than one game played there, but in the center of it all, a single wildflower caught my attention. I was bright purple and stood erect where a hundred others around it had been smashed. I wondered if it had somehow escaped harm, or if it had been stepped on before but refused to lie down. ~ Jennifer A Nielsen, #NFDB
751:Flirtation
UPON thy purple mat thy body bare
Is fine and limber like a tender tree.
The motion of thy supple form is rare,
Like a lithe panther lolling languidly,
Toying and turning slowly in her lair.
Oh, I would never ask for more of thee,
Thou art so clean in passion and so fair.
Enough! if thou wilt ask no more of me!
~ Claude McKay,#NFDB
752:The boat bounced hard on the waves. Reflexively, Tally shot out a hand to brace herself on the closest stable object.
She stared in horror at her own pale fingers gripping the front waistband of the pirate's shorts.
His purple Hawaiian shorts were now riding low, very low, on his hips, as the weight of her hand dragged the fabric down.
And down... ~ Cherry Adair,#NFDB
753:It's 10:00 a.m., time for the second round of baking of the day. After feeding the fire with chunks of maple, he loads the bread and pastries according to cooking time: first the fat country rounds, then long, skinny loaves dense with nuts and dried fruit, and finally a dozen purple crescent moons: raspberry croissants pocked with chunks of white chocolate. ~ Matt Goulding, #NFDB
754:Have any of your clients died?” Ford asked. “Someone you were trying to help?”
“Brett,” Jenks said.
“Peter?” I blurted out. But the amulet went a negative gray.
“Nick,” Jenks said nastily, and the color on the metal disk became a violent shade of purple. Ford blinked, trying to divorce himself from the hate. “I’d say no,” he whispered. ~ Kim Harrison,#NFDB
755:Letty sat on a velvet couch, propped up with pillows. Rich royal-purple drapes everywhere she looked. Ivy walls. Candlelight. She had the best lamb she’d ever tasted. Must’ve been fed gold flakes and the milk of the gods. The bread cart was legendary. Like baked clouds. Everything plated as beautifully as jewelry. The artistic detail more precise than coinage. ~ Blake Crouch, #NFDB
756:Monotony? Have we not always had the same stars and the same sky above us, changing only in its shades of blue and gray and purple black? And who shall say that such themes are exhausted? Have we not always had love and passion, war and peace, summer and winter and spring and fall with us? And are these things unable longer to impel us to spiritual variations? ~ Robert Frost, #NFDB
757:She had just pulled her dress coat from it's hanger when Connor came bouncing out of her bedroom and down the hallway with something in his hand.
"Mommy, what's this jiggle stick?"
She looked up to see her son standing not two feet away from Reece with her purple jelly vibrator in his hand. And he was shaking it, making it waggle back and forth. ~ Pamela Clare,#NFDB
758:The grapes are smaller than I’m used to, and the skin is slightly textured. Is that dirt? I dip my napkin in water and dab at the tiny purple globes. It helps, but they’re still sort of rough. Hmm. St. Clair and Meredith stop talking. I glance up to find them staring at me in matching bemusement.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Continue your grape bath. ~ Stephanie Perkins,#NFDB
759:I looked up then, out the far window, and there, just within sight, the sun was going down across the river. It was dull red, no longer shining over the land, its ray brought home to roost, contained within its sphere. The sky was streaked with lavendar, a pulsing pale blue, purple and smudged pink and orange melding into one another all the way to the horizon. ~ Jane Hamilton, #NFDB
760:I’m eighty-two, can you believe it?” She’s actually ageless, given that her purple face is stretched tighter than an eggplant. “So what did you have done?” I ask, unable to help myself. “The whole package,” she says. “Got my eyelids done, some Botox, a little filler, chin implant, cheekbones, got my lips done, neck lift, breast implants, tummy tuck, ass lift. ~ Kristan Higgins, #NFDB
761:Six saw a caterpillar.'
'What kind?'
'Green, with purple and white zigzags.'
'I see,' Thaniel said slowly. Liking children did not keep him from being perplexed by them. He was recently too old to remember his own childhood with any clarity. 'I imagine that was exciting?'
She glanced up at him warily. 'No. It was just a caterpillar. ~ Natasha Pulley,#NFDB
762:And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more. ~ Edgar Allan Poe,#NFDB
763:1090
This Is The Land The Sunset Washes,
This is the land the sunset washes,
These are the banks of the Yellow Sea;
Where it rose, or whither it rushes,
These are the western mystery!
Night after night her purple traffic
Strews the landing with opal bales;
Merchantmen poise upon horizons,
Dip, and vanish with fairy sails.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
764:On silver soles I climbed down the thorny stairs, and I walked into the white-washed room. A light
burned there silently, and without speaking I wrapped my head in purple linen; and the earth threw out a
childlike body, a creature of the moon, that slowly stepped out of the darkness of my shadow, with broken
arms, stony waterfalls sank away, fluffy snow ~ Georg Trakl,#NFDB
765:Rain
Roads not yet glistening, rain slight,
Broken clouds darken after thinning away.
Where they drift, purple cliffs blacken.
And beyond -- white birds blaze in flight.
Sounds of cold-river rain grown familiar,
Autumn sun casts moist shadows. Below
Our brushwood gate, out to dry at the village
Mill: hulled rice, half-wet and fragrant.
~ Du Fu,#NFDB
766:a quiet father of three who had moved his family from Illinois to the Washington suburbs to work for Obama, had been instructed to remain unbiased in picking the contents of the purple folder. The president had called on his second day in office to request ten letters, explaining that he wanted a representative sample: complimentary and critical, elegant and hurried. ~ Eli Saslow, #NFDB
767:Blazing In Gold And Quenching In Purple
228
Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple
Leaping like Leopards to the Sky
Then at the feet of the old Horizon
Laying her spotted Face to die
Stooping as low as the Otter's Window
Touching the Roof and tinting the Barn
Kissing her Bonnet to the Meadow
And the Juggler of Day is gone
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
768:Dani had threatened to kill him. This must be the way she planned to do it. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders and she was wearing earrings that glittered in the sunlight. The purple dress she had on showed off her toned legs and hugged her curves. The supply of oxygen to his brain cut off, and he was pretty sure his heart had stopped a couple of beats ago. ~ Cindi Madsen, #NFDB
769:Hugo planned a five-course meal: smoked duck, oyster stew, roast beef with mashed yams, a salad of apples with beets and blue cheese, then chocolate banana cream pie. Rich, rich, and richer still. Ben made pitchers of martinis and set aside thirty-five bottles of a tried-and-true Napa cabernet, pure purple velvet, and an Oregonian pinot gris, grassy and effervescent. ~ Julia Glass, #NFDB
770:Dad called this the shadow time. The sun sucks colour from the world, he'd said. He'd taught her to see the softer colours of the dusk, the green and orange bark, the purple shadows. At times like this Flinty felt her edges vanish, leaving her part of the mountains, like the wallaby pulling wonga vine down from a thorn bush, or the sleepy possum peering from a tree. ~ Jackie French, #NFDB
771:I am running through a snowfall which is her thighs, he dramatized in purple. Her thighs are filling up the street. Wide as a snowfall, heavy as huge falling Zeppelins, her damp thighs are settling on the sharp roofs and wooden balconies. Weather-vanes press the shape of roosters and sail-boats into the skin. The faces of famous statues are preserved like intaglios. ~ Leonard Cohen, #NFDB
772:I remember Prince gave me a cassette of Purple Rain. It was like 20 minutes long and he asked me to write something on it. I tried for a month and then he came to L.A. I went to see him and said, "I can't do it. It's too perfect. It's like 'Stairway to Heaven.'" He said OK and then I go, "I can keep the cassette, right?" He said, "Of course and thank you for trying." ~ Stevie Nicks, #NFDB
773:It was as if a curtain had fallen, hiding everything I had ever known. It was almost like being born again. The colours were different, the smells different, the feeling things gave you right down inside yourself was different. Not just the difference between heat, cold; light, darkness; purple, grey. But a difference in the way I was frightened and the way I was happy. ~ Jean Rhys, #NFDB
774:like being able to see how I got from Deep Purple to Howlin’ Wolf in twenty-five moves; I am no longer pained by the memory of listening to “Sexual Healing” all the way through a period of enforced celibacy, or embarrassed by the reminder of forming a rock club at school, so that I and my fellow fifth-formers could get together and talk about Ziggy Stardust and Tommy. ~ Nick Hornby, #NFDB
775:Night poured over the desert. It came suddenly, in purple. In the clear air, the stars drilled down out of the sky, reminding any thoughtful watcher that it is in the deserts and high places that religions are generated. When men see nothing but bottomless infinity over their heads they have always had a driving and desperate urge to find someone to put in the way. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
776:Strong sun, that bleach
The curtains of my room, can you not render
Colourless this dress I wear?—
This violent plaid
Of purple angers and red shames; the yellow stripe
Of thin but valid treacheries; the flashy green of kind deeds done
Through indolence, high judgments given in haste;
The recurring checker of the serious breach of taste? ~ Edna St Vincent Millay,#NFDB
777:Well, and near our cottage were rocks. Eh, lasses! ye don't know what rocks are in Manchester! Gray pieces o' stone as large as a house, all covered over wi' mosses of different colors, some yellow, some brown; and the ground beneath them knee deep in purple heather, smelling sae sweet and fragrant, and the low music of the humming-bee for ever sounding among it. ~ Elizabeth Gaskell, #NFDB
778:TARIK’S ADANA KEBAB Purée red bell and hot peppers with salt and olive oil. Add purée to ground lamb, chopped onion, garlic and parsley, finely cubed butter, coriander, cumin, paprika, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Knead and shape into flat kebabs; grill until almost charred. Serve with grilled pide bread and thinly sliced purple onions sprinkled with lemon and sumac. ~ Jason Matthews, #NFDB
779:But if the cow is purple, you'd notice it, OK? The thing that's going to decide what gets talked about, what gets done, what gets changed, what gets purchased, what gets built is, is it remarkable? And remarkable's a really cool word 'cause we think it just means neat, but it also means worth making a remark about, and that is the essence of where idea diffusion is going. ~ Seth Godin, #NFDB
780:Her small pet spotted him first, barking out a sharp warning from where he stood on guard in the back doorway. Ivy appeared a second later, a broom in hand and her curls held back by a purple and white scarf. "I knew it was you," she said with a slight smile. "You've now been downgraded from 'deadly threat' to 'irritation that won't go away' in Rabbit's bark vocabulary. ~ Nalini Singh, #NFDB
781:My dreams are the usual incoherent nonsense. Like most writers, at some point in my career I thought, well, I have these great dreams but I always forget them in the morning so I’ll leave a pad on my bedside table so I can write it down, and then you have some incredible dream and you write it down and the next morning you wake up and you’ve written ‘purple socks’. ~ George R R Martin, #NFDB
782:So, The Color Purple changed my life. It changed everything about my life because, in that moment of praying and letting go, I really understood the principle of surrender. The principle of surrender is that, after you have done all that you can do, and you've done your best and given it your all, you then have to release it to whatever you call God, or don't call God. ~ Oprah Winfrey, #NFDB
783:Whether we be Italians or Frenchmen, misery concerns us all. Ever since history has been written, ever since philosophy has meditated, misery has been the garment of the human race; the moment has at length arrived for tearing off that rag, and for replacing, upon the naked limbs of the Man-People, the sinister fragment of the past with the grand purple robe of the dawn. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
784:Lady, all I know about you is that you're tough as hell. Guys like me, we got a list of people like you. Like a rating system.
You got your Daredevils, your Iron Fists--those guys, you fight. Maybe you get lucky, or maybe you're actually good enough to beat 'em.
Now, any Hulk--lady, dude, red, green, purple--you see a Hulk. you run. As you saw. Thors, too. ~ Charles Soule,#NFDB
785:Seeing the lightest and gayest purple was then most in fashion, he would always wear that which was the nearest black; and he would often go out of doors, after his morning meal, without either shoes or tunic; not that he sought vain-glory from such novelties, but he would accustom himself to be ashamed only of what deserves shame, and to despise all other sorts of disgrace. ~ Plutarch, #NFDB
786:So, Wesley Clark is running for president. Pretty amazing guy. Four star general, first in his class at West Point, supreme commander of NATO, saw combat in Vietnam, won the bronze star, silver star, the purple heart for being wounded in battle. See, I'm no political expert, but that sounds pretty good next to choking on a pretzel, falling off a scooter and dropping the dog. ~ Jay Leno, #NFDB
787:The poorest Christian possesses more than the richest unbeliever. You shall set before me now the pauper who is a believer, and the emperor who has no faith in Christ, and I am convinced that the poor, aged pauper would not exchange her lot thought the imperial purple should be offered her. She would refuse to leave her Savior though the worldwere offered her. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon, #NFDB
788:She wore jeans, red boots, a black leather jacket and a hefty splash of sweet gardenia perfume. Her hair looked like that crayon called maroon, the one that’s not purple and not red, but something in between and for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off her lipstick. It was the exact same color as her hair and went up and down in a perfect rounded “M” on her top lip. ~ Pam Mu oz Ryan, #NFDB
789:There is a tray full of glass sundae dishes filled with brightly colored ice cream. Strawberry, pistachio, black raspberry. Pink, green, and purple. I like the colors next to each other and wonder what kind of impossible things I can draw about ice cream. Maybe melting rivers of it. And a man with a cone-shaped head sitting in a babana split dish rowing with a spoon. ~ Lynda Mullaly Hunt, #NFDB
790:The two women carried a stretcher, on which was sprawled a civilian man whose face was a swollen mass of blue and purple over broken teeth stained with blood. “Whoa, what the hell happened to HIM?”
“When the colonists surrendered, one of the hostages went off on him.”
Pike looked shocked. “One of our medics did that?”
“A dentist, actually.”
“Oh. That makes sense. ~ David Mack,#NFDB
791:Be different. Be original. Nobody will remember a specific flower in garden loaded with thousands of the same yellow flower, but they will remember the one that managed to change its color to purple.
Being different and thinking differently make a person unforgettable. History does not remember the forgettable. It honors the unique minority the majority cannot forget. ~ Suzy Kassem,#NFDB
792:pink chiffon dress went down the aisle. Violet in the lilac gown followed. The bouquets she’d crafted for the bridesmaids were a mass of spring flowers: blue hydrangeas, soft purple roses, yellow carnations, pale pink peonies and the soft silvery-green foliage of dusty miller added a bit of shimmer. Each bouquet had a coordinating satin colored ribbon to match the attendant’s ~ Ellen Dugan, #NFDB
793:He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, cradling her against him. She fit just right, her head resting on his shoulder. He leaned down and whispered. "What did I did to deserve you?"
Bryce held her there in silence as the sinking sun set the sky on fire with yellow and purple and orange. In this serene setting, everything fell away except the two of them. ~ Tracy March,#NFDB
794:He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, cradling her against him. She fit just right, her head resting on his shoulder. He leaned down and whispered. "What did I did to deserve you?"
Bryce held her there in silence as the sinking sun set the sky on fire with yellow and purple and orange. In this serene setting, everything fell away except the two of them. ~ Tracy March,#NFDB
795:The sky is purple, the flare of a match behind a cupped hand is gold; the liquor is green, bright green, made from a thousand herbs, made from altars. Those who know enough to drink Chartreuse at Mardi Gras are lucky, because the distilled essence of the town burns in their bellies. Chartreuse glows in the dark, and if you drink enough of it, your eyes will turn bright green. ~ Poppy Z Brite, #NFDB
796:You saying God vain? I ast. Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it. What it do when it pissed off? I ast. Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
797:I just wanted to see if you traitors would dare to face me,” Galdran said, his caustic voice making me feel sick inside. Sick--and angry.
The Marquis bowed low over his horse’s withers, every line of his body indicative of irony.
Galdran’s face flushed dark purple.
“I confess,” Shevraeth drawled, “we had a small wager on whether you would have the courage to face us. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
798:Success Is Counted Sweetest
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory
As he defeated--dying-On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
799:Ahead, twin rows of crape myrtles dot the road. They’re losing their flowers. Purple petals ring the trunks, fallen mementos of a past bloom like photos from college years. But unlike people, trees flower again in the spring; they age in great looping circles. We ride a roller coaster once around, shuddering up clacking tracks and then screaming our fool heads off all the way down. ~ Hugh Howey, #NFDB
800:You stare at anything long enough and suddenly it looks monstrous.” She had in fact turned away from him to stare at the bowl of flowers in the middle of the table. Old tea roses, falling to pieces amid the baby’s breath and fern and purple zinnias. And they did look absolutely alien, these things, the way that insects always do, and sort of horrible! What were these things, really? ~ Anne Rice, #NFDB
801:And later, when the sun begins to sink and the infinite sky is streaked with red and gold, I'll stroll out into the courtyard- perhaps even climb the steps to the gatehouse. And I'll gaze across the Chasm to the other side of the island, where I can still sometimes catch sight of a curly-haired urchin running joyously through the tall purple grass, her faithful dog at her heels. ~ Michelle Cooper, #NFDB
802:I've never really thought about it before, but it's a miracle how many kinds of light there are in the world, how many skies: the pale brightness of spring, when it feels like the hole world's blushing; the lush, bright boldness of a July noon; purple storm skies and a green queasiness just before lightning strikes and crazy multicolored sunsets that look like someone's acid trip. ~ Lauren Oliver, #NFDB
803:The dark eagles, sleep and death,
Rustle all night around my head:
The golden statue of man
Is swallowed by the icy comber
Of eternity. On the frightening reef
The purple remains go to pieces,
And the dark voice mourns
Over the sea.
Sister in my wild despair
Look, a precarious skiff is sinking
Under the stars,
The face of night whose voice is fading. ~ Georg Trakl,#NFDB
804:Where crowns a purple haze
Ashimmer in sunlight rays
The hill called Incense-Burner Peak, from far
To see, hung o'er the torrent's wall,
That waterfall
Vault sheer three thousand feet, you'd say
The Milky Way
Was tumbling from the high heavens, star on star
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Li Bai, Gazing At The Cascade On Lu Mountain
,#NFDB
805:we write every day, we fight every day, we think and scheme and dream a little dream every day. manuscripts pile up in the kitchen sink, run-on sentences dangle around our necks. we plant purple prose in our gardens and snip the adverbs only to thread them in our hair. we write with no guarantees, no certainties, no promises of what might come and we do it anyway. this is who we are. ~ Tahereh Mafi, #NFDB
806:They were in and out of Walmart in under ten minutes, toting a bag of generic clothes. Max then drove his fiancée back to his hotel as planned, but their love making didn’t wait until after dinner. Since the purple dress was so eye-catching, he wanted her to change before going down to dinner. But the moment she slipped the dress off her slender shoulders, the dinner plan was postponed. ~ Tim Tigner, #NFDB
807:When Susan B. Anthony began earning a salary as an elementary school teacher, at twenty-six, she had already turned down two marriage proposals in her quest to remain unmarried. She purchased for herself a fox-fur muff, a white silk hat, and a purple wool dress and wrote home, wondering if her peers might not “feel rather sad because they are married and can not have nice clothes. ~ Rebecca Traister, #NFDB
808:I always have two bracelets on my right arm. One is a purple and white bracelet from a fan. I love it! I also wear a bracelet from a waterpark- I've had it on for two or three years. My mom says it's pretty nasty, actually. But you'll never see me without them ever! In magazine photos, the bracelets are sometimes airbrushed out, but viewers will always see me wearing them during scenes. ~ Miley Cyrus, #NFDB
809:The Unknown Travelers
Lugged to the gray arbor,
I have climbed this snow-stone on my face,
My stick, but what, snapped the avalanche
The air filled with slowly falling rocks
Breathed in deeply--arrived,
The white room, a table covered
With a towel, mug of ice--fear
Among the legs of a chair, the ashman,
Purple and gray she starts upright in her chair. ~ John Ashbery,#NFDB
810:Then Drew shuffles into the dining hall. I drop my toast, and my mouth drifts open. Calling him “bruised” would be an understatement. His face is swollen and purple. He has a split lip and a cut running through his eyebrow. He keeps his eyes down on the way to his table, not even lifting them to look at me. I glance across the room at Four. He wears the satisfied smile I wish I had on. ~ Veronica Roth, #NFDB
811:Come boy, and pour for me a cup
Of old Falernian. Fill it up
With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear;
Our host decrees no water here.
Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew,
The sluggish thin their blood with dew.
For such pale stuff we have no use;
For us the purple grape's rich juice.
Begone, ye chilling water sprite;
Here burning Bacchus rules tonight! ~ Catullus,#NFDB
812:I would always drink purple drink - syrup. I would just be in a room, screwing and chopping up music. It was like an alter ego - I would turn into another person when I was on a substance. My music would get darker and weirder, and it inspired a lot of people. But I've changed my life and stopped smoking. I like to turn up and have fun when I get the chance, but I don't overdo it now. ~ SpaceGhostPurrp, #NFDB
813:They could see below them in the declining light the vast expanse of the forest country, a dark sleeping sea of sombre green undulating as far as the violet and purple range of mountains; the shining sinuosity of the river like an immense letter S of beaten silver; the brown ribbon of houses following the sweep of both banks, overtopped by the twin hills uprising above the nearer tree-tops. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
814:Ash stripped some of the papery purple bark off his yew stick. "And, you see, it's difficult because what I've always thought about humans-what I was always raised to think…"
"I know what you've always thought," Mary-Lynnette said sharply. Thinking, vermin.
But," Ash continued doggedly, "the thing is-and I know this is going to sound strange-that I seem to love you sort of desperately. ~ L J Smith,#NFDB
815:Then all at once in late August's heat, tall leafless stalks crowned with iridescent pink and purple blossoms burst from the purgatory in the earth. This arcane act of nature, though perceived by us as ordinary, is a manifestation of Maya's phantom play, the great immensity expressed in every way. My garden is the universe. I am the universe. I am my garden. All things are the same. ~ Duane Michals, #NFDB
816:In the clearing he saw a creature. Some eight feet tall, it was built along the lines of a dragon, with teeth like a T. rex and a slashing pair of front claws. The thing flickered in the moonlight, its powerful body and tail covered with iridescent purple and lime-green scales. “What the hell is that?” Butch whispered, fumbling to make sure the door was locked. “Rhage in a really bad mood.” The ~ J R Ward, #NFDB
817:I see him moving between the arches of purple and silver balloons and among the lavish decorations that fill the ground floor of my family's home. He speaks to no one, his gaze rarely leaving me. I flit from room to room, watching him from my peripheral vision. He doesn't approach but watches me from afar. A small, enigmatic little smile touching the corners of his lips whenever our eyes meet. ~ R R Banks, #NFDB
818:Certainly the effort to remain unchanged, young, when the body gives so impressive a signal of change as the menopause, is gallant; but it is a stupid, self-sacrificial gallantry, better befitting a boy of twenty than a woman of forty-five or fifty. Let the athletes die young and laurel-crowned. Let the soldiers earn the Purple Hearts. Let women die old, white-crowned, with human hearts. ~ Ursula K Le Guin, #NFDB
819:At first we raced through space, like shadows and light; her rants, my raves; her dark hair, my blonde; black dresses, white. She's a purple-black African-violet-dark butterfly and I a white moth. We were two wild ponies, Dawn and Midnight, the wind electrifying our manes and our hooves quaking the city; we were photo negatives of each other, together making the perfect image of a girl. ~ Francesca Lia Block, #NFDB
820:Everybody says you have to decide between the head and the heart, but that’s just so much bullshit. Your heart and your head don’t know a damn thing between them when it comes to other people. Your head can know facts about them, sure—like a criminal record or a Purple Heart—but that’s about it. And your heart only knows how it feels and what it wants, not what the other person is feeling . . . ~ Dani Harper, #NFDB
821:Tawny
THESE are the tawny days: your face comes back.
The grapes take on purple: the sunsets redden early on the trellis.
The bashful mornings hurl gray mist on the stripes of sunrise.
Creep, silver on the field, the frost is welcome.
Run on, yellow balls on the hills, and you tawny pumpkin flowers, chasing your
lines of orange.
Tawny days: and your face again.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
822:The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne, Burn’d on the water; the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar’d all description. Antony and Cleopatra. II.2 ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
823:Queen of Night is as close to black as a flower gets, though in fact it is a dark and glossy maroonish purple. Its hue is so dark, however, that it appears to draw more light into itself than it reflects, a kind of floral black hole. In the garden, depending on the the angle of the sun, the blossoms of a Queen of Night may read as positive or negative space, as flowers or shadows of a flower. ~ Michael Pollan, #NFDB
824:There is nothing unnatural in this world," he said. "An unnatural thing is a thing that could never happen in nature. I happened. I am natural, and the things I want are natural. The power of your mind, and your beauty, even when you've been drugged in the bottom of a boat for two weeks, covered in grime and your face purple and green - your unnatural beauty is natural. Nature is horrifying. ~ Kristin Cashore, #NFDB
825:Virgil had read once that Grandma Moses was a primitive painter because she thought snow was white. The writer said if you really looked at it, snow was hardly ever white. It mostly was a gentler version of the color of the sky - blue, gray, orange in the evenings and mornings, often with purple shadows. When he looked, sure enough, the guy was right, and Grandma Moses had her head up her ass. ~ John Sandford, #NFDB
826:The sun was just touching the western hills as we slid into the dock. Every leaf and twig stood out in the clarity of the tawny light. The sky was green in the north and the wind had died. The slowly rolling water was purple and bronze, dark with the coming night, bright with the fading day. It had been a good day -- and our tomorrows were waiting. What kind of days they would be depended on us. ~ Helen Hoover, #NFDB
827:I was doing someones hair the day I first saw my guitar ... a guy was walking down the street with it, and knew that guitar was mine (a 1953 weathered Fender Telecaster) .. I said I'll get you the most beautiful guitar you've ever seen and I'll trade you straight across ... I found him a purple Telecaster and said here's your guitar ... that was it, it was like he knew that guitar belonged to me. ~ Roy Buchanan, #NFDB
828:Even the photographs were on the mantelpiece and the medicine bottles on the shelf above the wash-stand. Her clothes lay across a chair—her outdoor things, a purple cape and a round hat with a plume in it. Looking at them she wished that she was going away from this house, too. And she saw herself driving away from them all in a little buggy, driving away from everybody and not even waving. ~ Katherine Mansfield, #NFDB
829:A solar-battery-powered chopper marked BELOVED BRETHREN MORATORIUM waited at the edge of the Zurich field. Beside it stood a beetle-like individual wearing a Continental outfit: tweed toga, loafers, crimson sash and a purple airplane-propeller beanie. The proprietor of the moratorium minced toward Joe Chip, his gloved hand extended, as Joe stepped from the ship's ramp onto the flat ground of Earth. ~ Philip K Dick, #NFDB
830:Oh, was that liquor of yours a stimulant?" asked Elena. "I wondered why he didn't fall asleep." "Couldn't you tell?" chuckled Mayhew. "Not really." Miles twisted his head to take in Elena's upside-down worried face, and smile in weak reassurance. Sparkly black and purple whirlpools clouded his vision. Mayhew's laughter faded. "My God," he said hollowly, "you mean he's like that all the time? ~ Lois McMaster Bujold, #NFDB
831:At the round table of color, orange sits supreme. Orange is sublime. Orange is ablaze. And seated across from Lady Orange, we have Sir Purple. I ask you, is any color more vulgar? The word alone emerges like something from a lavatory. Purple. Plopple. It’s all prunes, liver spots, and ink stains. If I ever utter a word of praise for that wretched hue, please snatch my pen away and gore me with it. ~ Josiah Bancroft, #NFDB
832:Real magic,” Hargrove said, waving his hand again and returning the beetle to half a gold piece, “is about pushing the limits of what can and cannot be imagined. But I expect you’re all still content with starting fires and making it rain.” He swept the cards back into the pack and slid it into his purple-orange-red coat. “At least our magic is perfectly natural,” I muttered, stung by his rudeness. ~ Jessica Cluess, #NFDB
833:How about I call? We'll do lunch." he blew a kiss toward Miss Lynn's increasingly purple face and jumped off onto the next row.
Miss lynn shoved past me, running to block the exit. "Guard the gym door!" she shouted,eyes blazing as she took up her position and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
But jack was long gone,having eluded both Miss lynn and any repercussions for his idiotic actions. ~ Kiersten White,#NFDB
834:Not settles herself in the farthest reaches of the gallery, admiring the work of an artist she hasn't seen before. The canvases are large and dark, great splashes of royal blue on black, what appear to be deep purple seas beneath deep red skies. They remind her of Turner's tranquil sunsets, with a slightly sinister edge, as if sharks swim in the purple seas and black crows caw through the red skies. ~ Menna van Praag, #NFDB
835:We had a sunset of a very fine sort. The vast plain of the sea was marked off in bands of sharply-contrasted colors: great stretches of dark blue, others of purple, others of polished bronze; the billowy mountains showed all sorts of dainty browns and greens, blues and purples and blacks, and the rounded velvety backs of certain of them made one want to stroke them, as one would the sleek back of a cat. ~ Mark Twain, #NFDB
836:The Plains Indians decorated their moccasins with not less than three different colors of quills. Their favorites were yellow, red, green and purple.
Beaded moccasins had a larger range of colors, the average being four or five, and the preference was white, red, green, yellow and blue. The background color, almost exclusively, was white, although the Assiniboin tribe used blue for the background color. ~ W Ben Hunt,#NFDB
837:I woke up from a deep sleep to find everybody sleeping like lambs and the car parked God knows where, because I couldn't see out the steamy windows. I got out of the car. We were in the mountains: there was a heaven of sunrise, cool purple airs, red mountainsides, emerald pastures in valleys, dew, and transmuting clouds of gold; on the ground gopher holes, cactus, mesquite. It was time for me to drive on. ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
838:My only comfort," she said to Meg, with tears in her eyes, "is that Mother doesn't take tucks in my dresses whenever I'm naughty, as Maria Parks's mother does. My dear, it's really dreadful, for sometimes she is so bad her frock is up to her knees, and she can't come to school. When I think of this deggerredation, I feel that I can bear even my flat nose and purple gown with yellow sky-rockets on it. ~ Louisa May Alcott, #NFDB
839:The night before, I had hoped to thank the country wearing white—the color of the suffragettes—while standing on a stage cut into the shape of the United States under a vast glass ceiling. (We had really gone the distance on the symbolism.) Instead, the white suit stayed in the garment bag. Out came the gray and purple one I had intended to wear on my first trip to Washington as President Elect. ~ Hillary Rodham Clinton, #NFDB
840:I love my thoughts, even when they take me up and down sour-smelling byways where I’d rather not venture. Whatever flickers on in my head is mine and I want it, all the blinking impulses and inclinations and connections and weirdness, and especially those bright purple flares that come streaming out of nowhere, announcing you’re at some mystic juncture or turning point and that you’d better pay attention. ~ Carol Shields, #NFDB
841:Anyway, it's like with bikes,' said the first speaker authoritatively. 'I thought I was going to get this bike with seven gears and one of them razorblade saddles and purple paint and everything, and they gave me this light blue one. With a basket. A girl's bike.' 'Well. You're a girl,' said one of the others. 'That's sexism, that is. Going around giving people girly presents just because they're a girl. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
842:Bones
Sling me under the sea.
Pack me down in the salt and wet.
No farmer’s plow shall touch my bones.
No Hamlet hold my jaws and speak
How jokes are gone and empty is my mouth.
Long, green-eyed scavengers shall pick my eyes,
Purple fish play hide-and-seek,
And I shall be song of thunder, crash of sea,
Down on the floors of salt and wet.
Sling me … under the sea.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
843:King Dimitrios
When the Macedonians deserted him
and showed they preferred Pyrrhos,
King Dimitrios (a noble soul) didn't behave
-so they saidat all like a king.
He took off his golden robes,
threw away his purple buskins,
and quickly dressing himself
in simple clothes, he slipped outjust like an actor who,
the play over,
changes his costume and goes away.
~ Constantine P. Cavafy,#NFDB
844:Oh, was that liquor of yours a stimulant?" asked Elena. "I wondered why he didn't fall asleep."
"Couldn't you tell?" chuckled Mayhew.
"Not really."
Miles twisted his head to take in Elena's upside-down worried face, and smile in weak reassurance. Sparkly black and purple whirlpools clouded his vision. Mayhew's laughter faded. "My God," he said hollowly, "you mean he's like that all the time? ~ Lois McMaster Bujold,#NFDB
845:This is the fairest picture on our planet, the most enchanting to look upon, the most satisfying to the eye and spirit. To see the sun sink down, drowned in his pink and purple and golden floods, and overwhelm Florence with tides of color that make all the sharp lines dim and faint and turn the solid city to a city of dreams, is a sight to stir the coldest nature, and make a sympathetic one drunk with ecstasy. ~ Mark Twain, #NFDB
846:God sits on a blue throne called the vena cava. There is no need for a temple to communicate or pray to him. His truths travel from his seat over a purple bridge in your heart, also known as your conscience. Your conscience is where his wisdom shines. A crystal embedded within a fold of your pulmonary trunk acts as a transmitter and receiver. God is closer than you think. In your heart, is his truth and light. ~ Suzy Kassem, #NFDB
847:She and her sister were dressed in purple, with gold buckles at their throats by way of brooches, and another gold buckle each at the end of hatpins which they wore through their grey hair in order apparently to match their brooches. Their faces, identical to the point of indecency, were quite expressionless, as though they were the preliminary lay-outs for faces and were waiting for sentience to be injected. ~ Mervyn Peake, #NFDB
848:Everything drifts. Everything is slowly swirling, philosophies tangled with the grocery lists, unreal-real anxieties like rose thorns waiting to tear the uncertain flesh, nonentities of thoughts floating like plankton, green and orange particles, seaweed -- lots of that, dark purple and waving, sharks with fins like cutlasses, herself held underwater by her hair, snared around auburn-rusted anchor chains. ~ Margaret Laurence, #NFDB
849:He turned to the worktable beside him where a large, frosted glass terrarium took up half the space. He lifted the cover, revealing a single, deep-purple flower. The slender petals looked like snippets of evening sky, a rich velvetine purple hungry for the light of stars. Laila traced their edges softly. The petals were almost exactly the same shade of Séverin’s eyes. The thought made her draw back her hand. ~ Roshani Chokshi, #NFDB
850:The woman in the tub had been dead for a long time. She was bloated and purple, her gas-filled belly rising out of the cold, ice-rimmed water like some fleshy island. Her eyes were fixed on Danny’s, glassy and huge, like marbles. She was grinning, her purple lips pulled back in a grimace. Her breasts lolled. Her pubic hair floated. Her hands were frozen on the knurled porcelain sides of the tub like crab claws. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
851:Yet, there was once a king worthy of that name. That king was Arthur. It is paramount disgrace of this evil generation that the name of that great king is no longer spoken aloud except in derision. Arthur! He was the fairest flower of our race, Cymry's most noble son, Lord of the Summer Realm, Pendragon of Britain. He wore God's favour like a purple robe.
Hear then, if you will, the tale of a true king. ~ Stephen R Lawhead,#NFDB
852:Factory Smokestacks At Dawn
They chisel their force into the dawning sky.
They forge their steeled selves on the precipice.
They split through the fog like axes
so that each breath shatters around them.
Morning announces itself with purple laughter.
The sky floods deep blue.
They keep watch,
barbed and shaven and grey,
naked there and as lost
in the ether. God is born.
~ Ernst Toller,#NFDB
853:It hurts to live after someone has died. It just does. It can hurt to walk down a hallway or open the fridge. It hurts to put on a pair of socks, to brush your teeth. Food tastes like nothing. Colors go flat. Music hurts, and so do memories. You look at something you’d otherwise find beautiful—a purple sky at sunset or a playground full of kids—and it only somehow deepens the loss. Grief is so lonely this way. ~ Michelle Obama, #NFDB
854:Anyway, it's like with bikes,' said the first speaker authoritatively. 'I thought I was going to get this bike with seven gears and one of them razorblade saddles and purple paint and everything, and they gave me this light blue one. With a basket. A girl's bike.'
'Well. You're a girl,' said one of the others.
'That's sexism, that is. Going around giving people girly presents just because they're a girl. ~ Terry Pratchett,#NFDB
855:I grow warm, I begin to feel happy. There is nothing extraordinary in this, it is a small happiness of Nausea: it spreads at the bottom of the viscous puddle, at the bottom of out time - the time of purple suspenders, and broken chair seats; it is made of white, soft instants, spreading at the edge, like an oil stain. No sooner than born, it is already old, it seems as though I have known it for twenty years. ~ Jean Paul Sartre, #NFDB
856:Perhaps,” thought Robin, “the soldiers didn’t actually mock Jesus at all. It was just a game, which they let him join in. He might even have thrown dice with them. The crown and the purple robe were just dressing-up. It was the Romans’ idea of fun. I don’t believe when a prisoner is condemned to death the people guarding him are beastly. They try and make the time go quickly, because they feel sorry for him. ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
857:Purple Hair stopped dusting blush over Cameron’s cheeks. “Hold up. Are you talking about the dark-haired guy who came in with you? The one who searched me before I could do your makeup?” Cameron grimaced. “Sorry about that.” “Don’t be—it was the highlight of my month.” Purple Hair threw her a get-real stare. “That’s the guy you’re holding out on? Sweetie, you need to grab that stallion and ride him like a cowgirl. ~ Julie James, #NFDB
858:It hurts to live after someone has died. It just does. It can hurt to walk down a hallway or open the fridge. It hurts to put on a pair of socks, to brush your teeth. Food tastes like nothing. Colors go flat. Music hurts, and so do memories. You look at something you'd otherwise find beautiful--a purple sky at sunset or a playground full of kids--and it only somehow deepens the loss. Grief is so lonely this way. ~ Michelle Obama, #NFDB
859:Upon the purple tree-tops far away, and on the green height near at hand up which the shades were slowly creeping, there was an equal hush. Between the real landscape and its shadow in the water, there was no division; both were so untroubled and clear, and, while so fraught with solemn mystery of life and death, so hopefully reassuring to the gazer's soothed heart, because so tenderly and mercifully beautiful. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
860:Eau-de-vie- flavored with myrtle," said the old woman. "Try it!" She watched intently as Ellie raised the glass to her lips. "Myrtle from the garden. I steep the berries with honey in the local firewater, but the secret ingredient is the flower, added for the final day. Such a pretty white flower it is, drowned in purple for just one day."
The liqueur tasted of stewed plums. Not unpleasant, but very strong. ~ Deborah Lawrenson,#NFDB
861:She Hideth Her The Last
557
She hideth Her the last—
And is the first, to rise—
Her Night doth hardly recompense
The Closing of Her eyes—
She doth Her Purple Work—
And putteth Her away
In low Apartments in the Sod As worthily as We.
To imitate her life
As impotent would be
As make of Our imperfect Mints,
The Julep—of the Bee—
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
862:Where the sun had gone down in simple state—pure of the pomp of clouds—spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven. The east had its own charm or fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a casino and solitary star: soon it would boast the moon; but she was yet beneath the horizon. ~ Charlotte Bront, #NFDB
863:It hurts to live after someone has died. It just does. It can hurt to walk down a hallway or a open the fridge. It hurts to put on a pair of socks, to brush your teeth. Food tastes like nothing. Colors go flat. Music hurts, and so do memories. You look at something you'd otherwise find beautiful - a purple sky at sunset or a playground full of kids and it only somehow deepens the loss. Grief is so lonely this way. ~ Michelle Obama, #NFDB
864:Noor was Sajida's secret. She knew the exact moment her child was conceived. Purple passed slowly, the lowest of clouds, over her eyes. Bathed in such magnificent color, Sajida lay perfectly still. Much later, she would try to relive the exact moment, as if she needed to understand how the fact of her child could have entered her body and mind at the same time. But Sajida would not summon the gentle shade ever again. ~ Sorayya Khan, #NFDB
865:My eyes so stuck in night vision
I watch the decaying praised come back from the afterlife. By far, purple seed dreams redeem the faith among the lit palm trees, as each section settles in, wiping out my future with a comet sent by your divine lips forgotten by the teeming atmospheric dark age I now dwell in encrypting the awakening language gone up in sweet smoke, teasing stretched heels in the midnight air. ~ Brandon Villasenor,#NFDB
866:Tuck watched the sun bubble into the ocean. Columns of vertical cumulus clouds turned to cones of pink cotton candy, then as the sun became a red wafer on the horizon, they turned candy-apple red, with purple rays reaching out of them like searchlights. The water was neon over wet asphalt, blood-spattered gunmetal—colors from the cover of a detective novel where heroes drink hard and beauty is always treacherous. ~ Christopher Moore, #NFDB
867:Passageways
Who set, between those rocks like cinder,
to show the honey of dream,
that golden broom,
those blue rosemaries?
Who painted the purple mountains
and the saffron, sunset sky?
The hermitage, the beehives,
the cleft of the river
the endless rolling water deep in rocks,
the pale-green of new fields,
all of it, even the white and pink
under the almond trees!
~ Antonio Machado,#NFDB
868:Unlike the seeds, I’d thrown the bucket much farther out. I tried swimming underwater, looking in its general direction and seeing nothing but inky midnight. I splashed to the surface, inhaled deeply then crash-dived like a submarine. There it was! In the purple haze of subsurface sunlight, I could just make out a small object hovering on a narrow ledge of gravel. Just one block over, and it would have been lost forever. ~ Max Brooks, #NFDB
869:He looks toward the ocean, dark purple with the last rays of light. "My mom says we're all connected--people and plants and animals. We all know one another on the inside. It's what's on the outside that distracts. Our clothes, our words, our actions. Shark attacks. Gunshots. We spend our lives trying to find other people. Sometimes we get confused and turned around by the distractions." He smiles at me. "But we didn't. ~ Jenn Bennett, #NFDB
870:He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
871:Purple light passed over the paper, but nothing happened. "Next!" Amy said. She was sure the man in black was going to burst in on them any second. "Whoa!" Dan said. Amy gripped his arm. "You found it?" "No, but look! This whole essay - 'To the Royal Academy.' He wrote a whole essay on farts!" Dan grinned with delight. "He's proposing a scientific study on different fart smells. You're right, Amy. This guy was a genius! ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
872:The thread has snapped. No sound even to mark the breaking let alone the fall. That long anticipated disintegration, when the darkest angel of all, the horror beyond all horrors, sits at last upon my chest, permanently enfolding me in its great covering wings, black as ink, veined in Bees' purple. A creature without a voice. A voice without a name. As immortal as my life. Come here at long last to summon the wind. ~ Mark Z Danielewski, #NFDB
873:He's a Stone Dead gang member. He'll be hanging with the other Deads, and the Deads own the fifth block of Stark. Their color is purple. Their name is significant. These losers are dead inside. They've grown up with so much violence it's normal to them. They're like zombies. They feel no remorse. You do not want to go up against one of them. If you find this guy I want you to call me, and I'll send out the SWAT team.. ~ Janet Evanovich, #NFDB
874:Long legs and longer arms, each tipped with a row of black talons. Sinewy. Wiry. And above all, humanoid, its skin in the sunlight as translucent as a baby mouse’s—mapped with a network of blue veins and purple arteries and even its heart faintly visible as a pinkish throb just right of center mass. snarling as strings of bloody saliva dangled from the corners of its lipless mouth, creamy eyes hard-focused on its target. ~ Blake Crouch, #NFDB
875:One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin, you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do. ~ Cheryl Strayed, #NFDB
876:Tech simulations,” I said, the realization hitting me in the gut. “Jake, you’re so dead! You tricked me with that purple pill!”
“But now you know you can’t control the elements,” he said.
Like that made me feel better. “I hope you have a will!”
“Blame Jag,” he responded.
“Oh, I do,” I snapped. “Trust me, he’s going to die too.” I imagined the way he’d smile when he saw me. He wouldn’t even see my fist coming. ~ Elana Johnson,#NFDB
877:Jimena stopped in front of a locker near a floor-length mirror.
"This one was Catty's," she said softly.
A watercolor painting of the full moon rising over an ocean was taped to the front. A beautiful woman hovered behind the moon, her purple robe billowing into the starry sky behind her. The image was haunting.
"Did she do the painting?" Tianna asked. "It's really pretty."
Jimena nodded. "She was a good artist. ~ Lynne Ewing,#NFDB
878:A group of hooting kids clinging to a tank painted with the Fjerdan flag and charging along like some deranged float gone astray from its parade: a girl in purple silk and a boy with red-gold curls poking out from behind the guns; four soaked people holding tight to the sides for dear life—a Shu boy in prison clothes, two bedraggled drüskelle, and Nina, a half-naked girl in shreds of teal chiffon shouting, “We have a moat! ~ Leigh Bardugo, #NFDB
879:The shadow had followed behind them, clinging to their steps; and the two children little suspected its presence when they at last sat down, trustingly, under the mighty protection of Apollo, who, with a great bronze gesture, lifted his huge lyre to the heart of a crimson sky.
It was a gorgeous spring evening. Clouds, which had just received their gossamer robe of gold and purple from the setting sun, drifted slowly by; ~ Gaston Leroux,#NFDB
880:The sky is stained pink and purple, and the shadows are thick, stark brush strokes on the ground. But the air is still warm, and several trees are crowned with tiny green leaves.
I like seeing the Wilds this way: skinny, naked, not yet clothed in spring. But reaching, too, grasping and growing, full of want and a thirst for sun that gets slaked a little bit more every day. Soon the Wilds will explode, drunk and vibrant. ~ Lauren Oliver,#NFDB
881:The sun goes down long and red. All the magic names of the valley unrolled—Manteca, Madera, all the rest. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragrant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
882:Who would have thought a fine lady like Eden Spencer would ever look twice at a coarse ironmonger like him? Yet even now with his face a patchwork of green, yellow, and deep purple, her beautiful mossy eyes glowed with an inner light that exuded love. For him. A convicted felon. A man with neither wealth nor reputation. A man who couldn’t even properly enunciate her entire name. A man who returned her love a hundredfold. ~ Karen Witemeyer, #NFDB
883:A slogan that accurately conveys the essence of your Purple Cow is a script. A script for the sneezer to use when she talks with her friends. The slogan reminds the user, “Here’s why it’s worth recommending us; here’s why your friends and colleagues will be glad you told them about us.” And best of all, the script guarantees that the word of mouth is passed on properly – that the prospect is coming to you for the right reason. ~ Seth Godin, #NFDB
884:I was born an ugly duckling due to my mother's ill health. She wasn't supposed to be pregnant, there were all kinds of complications, she couldn't survive a cesarean section etc. She said, "They didn't hand me a child, they handed me a purple melon." I heard that when I had grown up and had no idea of the whole story because the family album had pictures of a covered carriage and my mother smiling so I assumed I was asleep. ~ Bernie Siegel, #NFDB
885:L.A. kills people.' Jacaranda said. 'You're lucky you're leaving. You'll be able to write.' She looked paler, going through another depression, smoking in bed in her lilac room. The walls were the color of her veins. She was getting too thin, even for the modeling. . .Jacaranda died last winter when the flowering trees were bare. You couldn't even tell which ones once cried the purple blossoms she named herself after. ~ Francesca Lia Block, #NFDB
886:Purple snow capped mountains marched off in either direction, with clouds floating around their middles like fluffy belts. In a massive valley between two of the largest peaks, a ragged wall of ice rose out of the sea, filling the entire gorge. The glacier was blue and white with streaks of black, so that it looked a hedge of dirty snow left behind on a sidewalk after a snowplow had gone by, only four million times as large. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
887:She and Gretchen spent hours ranking their friendships, trying to determine who was a best friend and who was an everyday friend, debating whether anyone could have two best friends at the same time, writing each other’s names over and over in purple ink, buzzed on the dopamine high of belonging to someone else, having a total stranger choose you, someone who wanted to know you, another person who cared that you were alive. ~ Grady Hendrix, #NFDB
888:The sun goes down long and red. All the magic names of the valley unrolled - Manteca, Madera, all the rest. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon field; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments. ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
889:When the Deep Purple falls,
Over sleepy garden walls,
And the stars begin to flicker in the sky,
Thru the mist of a memory
You wander back to me,
Breathing my name with a sigh.
In the still of the night,
Once again I hold you tight,
Tho' you're gone, your love lives on
When moonlight beams.
And as long as my heart will beat
Lover, we'll always meet
Here in my Deep Purple dreams. ~ Rebecca Wells,#NFDB
890:I do believe," he said, scratching his dusty moustache, "that you are, if anything, getting worse. You are not Fading. You are obvious, boy. You are difficult to miss. If you came to me in company with a purple lion, a green elephant, and a scarlet unicorn astride which was the King of England in his royal robes, I do believe that it is you and you alone that people would stare at, dismissing the others as minor irrelevancies. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
891:In the most deadly variety of smallpox, the hemorrhagic form, called the bloody pox or black pox, the skin turns a deep purple or takes on a charred look, and comes off in sheets. The victim often “bleeds out,” blood pouring from every orifice in the body. It is extremely contagious. Unlike most other viruses, smallpox can survive and remain virulent for months or years outside the body in clothing, blankets, and sickrooms. ~ Douglas Preston, #NFDB
892:L.A. kills people.' Jacaranda said. 'You're lucky you're leaving. You'll be able to write.'
She looked paler, going through another depression, smoking in bed in her lilac room. The walls were the color of her veins. She was getting too thin, even for the modeling. . .Jacaranda died last winter when the flowering trees were bare. You couldn't even tell which ones once cried the purple blossoms she named herself after. ~ Francesca Lia Block,#NFDB
893:People used to ask me, 'What do you reckon you'll be doing when you're 40?', and I told 'em 'rocking out and kicking ass!' Now it's 'What do you reckon you'll be doing at 60?' and the answer's exactly the same. I'm always going to love Jimi Hendrix - 'Purple Haze' will still give me a hard-on when I'm hooked up to a life-support machine. Hey, even when I'm dead, they're going to have a hell of a job nailing the coffin lid down. ~ Steven Tyler, #NFDB
894:The horses sped through the dense autumn grass, their hooves kicking up moths in various colors: pinks, oranges, whites, blues. There were also green, yellow, and multicolored grasshoppers and other autumn insects. A few purple swallows circled overhead, singing in their shrill voices; sometimes they darted right past the horses, and sometimes they shot up into the sky, enjoying the insect feast provided by the horses and humans. ~ Jiang Rong, #NFDB
895:1193
We Like March, His Shoes Are Purple,
We like March, his shoes are purple,
He is new and high;
Makes he mud for dog and peddler,
Makes he forest dry;
Knows the adder's tongue his coming,
And begets her spot.
Stands the sun so close and mighty
That our minds are hot.
News is he of all the others;
Bold it were to die
With the blue-birds buccaneering
On his British sky.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
896:Did you need Jordan for something, Cookie?" Gavin asked with thinly veiled impatience. Hands back in his pockets, he took a step away from Jordan. "Or do you merely excel at crappy timing?"
"Sorry, Chief." Cookie's short purple-and-blue hair stuck out in a hundred different directions, and she winked when she peeked out from behind the swinging door....
"It's a gift."
"That's not what I would call it," he grumbled. ~ Sara Humphreys,#NFDB
897:I do believe," he announced, scratching his dusty moustache, "that you are getting, if anything, worse. You are not Fading. You are obvious, boy. You are difficult to miss. If you came to me in company with a purple lion, a green elefant, and a scarlet unicorn astride which was the King of England in his royal Robes, I do believe that it is you and you alone that people would stare at, dismissing the others as minor irrelevancies ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
898:On the porch, green-shuttered, cool,
Asleep is Bertram, that bronze boy,
Who, having wound her around a spool,
Sends her spinning like a toy
Out to the garden, all alone,
To sit and weep on a bench of stone.
Soon the purple dark will bruise
Lily and bleeding-heart and rose,
And the little Cupid lose
Eyes and ears and chin and nose,
And Jane lie down with others soon
Naked to the naked moon. ~ Donald Justice,#NFDB
899:The subject of teaching Shakespeare at college level having been introduced: “First of all, dismiss ideas, and social background, and train the freshman to shiver, to get drunk on the poetry of Hamlet or Lear, to read with his spine and not with his skull.” Kinbote: “You appreciate particularly the purple passages?” Shade: “Yes, my dear Charles, I roll upon them as a grateful mongrel on a spot of turf fouled by a Great Dane. ~ Vladimir Nabokov, #NFDB
900:Charley's consumption and indigestion had only become more lacerating; his eye sockets were as deep and dark as fistholes in the snow, his gums were strangely purple, he wore extravagant gold rings on every finger and a clove of garlic around his neck according to the guidance of a gypsy named Madame Africa. Bob was skinny, sallow, peevish, his complexion spoiled with so many pimples that some correspondents thought it was measles. ~ Ron Hansen, #NFDB
901:But the herm was gray-faced, lips purple-blue, eyelids fluttering. An IV pump, not dependent upon potentially erratic ship’s gravity, infused yellow fluid rapidly into Bel’s right arm. The left arm was strapped to a board; plastic tubing filled with blood ran from under a bandage and into a hybrid appliance bound around with quantities of plastic tape. A second tube ran back again, its dark surface moist with condensation. ~ Lois McMaster Bujold, #NFDB
902:I do believe," he announced, scratching his dirty moustache, "that you are getting, if anything, worse. You are not Fading. You are obvious, boy. You are difficult to miss. If you came to me in company with a purple lion, a green elephant, and a scarlet unicorn astride which was the King of England in his royal robes, I do believe that it is you and you alone that people would stare at, dismissing the others as minor irrelevancies. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
903:Purple light passed over the paper, but nothing happened.
"Next!" Amy said. She was sure the man in black was going to burst in on them any second.
"Whoa!" Dan said.
Amy gripped his arm. "You found it?"
"No, but look! This whole essay - 'To the Royal Academy.' He wrote a whole essay on farts!" Dan grinned with delight. "He's proposing a scientific study on different fart smells. You're right, Amy. This guy was a genius! ~ Rick Riordan,#NFDB
904:The Cow
Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread,
Every day and every night,
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.
Do not chew the hemlock rank,
Growing on the weedy bank;
But the yellow cowslips eat;
They perhaps will make it sweet.
Where the purple violet grows,
Where the bubbling water flows,
Where the grass is fresh and fine,
Pretty cow, go there to dine.
~ Ann Taylor,#NFDB
905:The Pluto boys were already The Planets so the Pluto girls were The Lady Planets. Their colors were purple and white, their mascot was a round planet with legs, arms, a perky face.
The Reservation team was The Warriors but the girls weren't The Lady Warriors, they were just The Warriors also. Their colors were blue and gold. They didn't want to have themselves as a mascot so they had an old time shield with two eagle feathers. ~ Louise Erdrich,#NFDB
906:Everybody's a racist. It's the one human trait that makes us all exactly the same. Deep down, we only like people who are exactly like us. And it doesn't matter. White. Black. Red. Yellow. Purple, uh oh, the purple people, are the worst. Man. All prejudiced and birth marky. But, we've got to learn to get past our differences. I learned that at the museum of tolerance. After my dad beat the crap out of a guy over a parking spot. ~ Christopher Titus, #NFDB
907:Follies
Shaken,
The blossoms of lilac,
And shattered,
The atoms of purple.
Green dip the leaves,
Darker the bark,
Longer the shadows.
Sheer lines of poplar
Shimmer with masses of silver
And down in a garden old with years
And broken walls of ruin and story,
Roses rise with red rain-memories.
May!
In the open world
The sun comes and finds your face,
Remembering all.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
908:One guy has his head on a table, eyes closed, vomit drooling from his mouth. Another pulls out his false teeth and clamps them on the ear of a gal at the next table. An immense woman in a purple jumpsuit is crying while another woman screams at her. And what I'm thinking is maybe it's time to halt all human reproduction. Let God or evolution or wathever put us here in the first place start again from scratch, because this isn't working. ~ Ron Rash, #NFDB
909:Bowing my head, I dipped my nose into the bouquet I'd assembled. There was flax, and forget-me-not, and hazel. There were white roses and pink ones, helenium and periwinkle, primrose, and lots and lots of bellflower. Between the tightly wrapped stems I'd packed velvety moss, barely visible, and I had sprinkled the bouquet with the purple and white petals of Grant's Mexican sage. The bouquet was enormous, and not nearly enough. ~ Vanessa Diffenbaugh, #NFDB
910:I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings. ~ William Butler Yeats, #NFDB
911:Sheba’s outfits tend to be very complicated – lots of floaty layers. I know she was wearing purple shoes. And there was definitely a long skirt involved, because I remember thinking that it was in imminent danger of becoming entangled in her spokes. When she dismounted – with a lithe, rather irritating, little skip – I saw that the skirt was made of some diaphanous material. Fey was the word that swam into my mind. Fey person, I thought. ~ Zo Heller, #NFDB
912:If we Americans are to survive it will have to be because we choose and elect and defend to be first of all Americans; to present to the world one homogeneous and unbroken front, whether of white Americans or black ones or purple or blue or green... If we in America have reached that point in our desperate culture when we must murder children, no matter for what reason or what color, we don't deserve to survive, and probably won't. ~ William Faulkner, #NFDB
913:They stopped for a moment to watch the evening sky transform itself in a show of dazzling radiance as gold transmuted into shades of vermilion that waned into shimmering purple, then darkened to deep blue as the first glittering sky fires appeared. Soon the sooty black night became a backdrop to the multitude of blazing lights that filled the summer sky, with a concentrated accumulation wending its way like a path across the vault above. ~ Jean M Auel, #NFDB
914:This great purple butterfly,
In the prison of my hands,
Has a learning in his eye
Not a poor fool understands.
Once he lived a schoolmaster
With a stark, denying look;
A string of scholars went in fear
Of his great birch and his great book.
Like the clangour of a bell,
Sweet and harsh, harsh and sweet.
That is how he learnt so well
To take the roses for his meat.
~ William Butler Yeats, Another Song of a Fool
,#NFDB
915:But at the next flare a big tree on the hill seemed to turn into fire before their eyes, every branch, twig, and leaf, and a purple cloud hung over it.
'Did you hear that crack?' asked Robbie Bell. 'That were its bones.'
'Why do you little niggers talk so much!' said Doc. 'Nobody’s profiting by this information.'
'We always talks this much,' said Sam, 'but now everybody so quiet, they hears us.'
("The Wide Net") ~ Eudora Welty,#NFDB
916:For the first time, I wasn't embarrassed by the look of beauty, of elegance, because when you see someone who has only one rag as their property, but it happens to be beautiful and pink and silk, beauty doesn't have to be separated... I have always said that you shouldn't have biases, you shouldn't have prejudices. But before that [before his trip to India, circa 1975] I'd never been able to use purple, because it was too beautiful. ~ Robert Rauschenberg, #NFDB
917:Hardly worth the effort, really,” he muttered. “It’s a homunculus lock. Only opens when a predefined set of factors is present. Could be it only opens when a redheaded lass sings the national anthem of Atlantis at three o’clock on a Thursday. Or when the light of the setting sun is reflected from a cracked mirror onto a goat’s eye. Or when Mr. Grey hawks a bogey onto a purple newt. I’ve seen some good homunculus factors in my time, yar. ~ G Norman Lippert, #NFDB
918:I Am A King
I am a King,
Or an Emperor rather,
I wear crown-imperial
And prince's-feather;
Golden-rod is the sceptre
I wield and wag,
And a broad purple flag-flower
Waves for my flag.
Elder the pithy
With old-man and sage,
These are my councillors
Green in old age;
Lord-and-ladies in silence
Stand round me and wait,
While gay ragged-robin
Makes bows at my gate.
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,#NFDB
919:I didn't mean to upset you, Ms. Hamilton," his gaze shifted back to her. "It's a beautiful sight and I thought you'd like to see it." She gasped in delight at the vista before her. Distant purple mountains framed lush green meadows speckled with brown dots of cattle. A silver river threaded through clumps of trees. In the middle of the valley, ranch buildings clustered around a large white house. Elizabeth inhaled crisp air into her lungs... ~ Debra Holland, #NFDB
920:I’ve got nothing against realism… But there is realism and realism. I mean, the questions that I ask myself, I think they are very much to do with reality. I would like, I would really like to have had the guts and the energy and so on to be able to write about, you know, people having battles with the DHSS, but I haven’t. I’ve done other things. I mean, I’m an arty person, OK. I write overblown, purple, self-indulgent prose – so fucking what? ~ Angela Carter, #NFDB
921:Mankind in the aggregate I have found to be brutish, ignorant and unkind, whether those qualities were covered by the coarse tunic of the peasant of the white and purple toga of a senator. And yet in the weakest of men, in moments when they are alone and themselves, I have found veins of strength like gold in decaying rock; in the cruelest of men, flashes of tenderness and compassion; and in the vainest of men, moments of simplicity and grace. ~ John Williams, #NFDB
922:One of the most meaningful things that's happened to me since I've been the governor - the president - governor - president. Oops. Ex-governor. I went to Bethesda Naval Hospital to give a fellow a Purple Heart, and at the same moment I watched him-get a Purple Heart for action in Iraq - and at that same - right after I gave him the Purple Heart, he was sworn in as a citizen of the United States - a Mexican citizen, now a United States citizen. ~ George W Bush, #NFDB
923:For with my intuition I knew that this man was repeating a pattern over and over again: courting a woman with his intelligence and sympathy, claiming her emotionally; then, when she began to claim in return, running away. And the better a woman was, the sooner he would begin to run. I knew this with my intuition, and yet I sat there in my dark room, looking at the hazed wet brilliance of the purple London night sky, longing with my whole being. ~ Doris Lessing, #NFDB
924:How could I resist? Look, I love that record and have nothing but great, great memories of my time with BLACK SABBATH . Tony was really busy but got his solos to me at the last minute as he promised and they are just fantastic. I think BLACK SABBATH fans will be over the moon when they hear what he's done. As for Roger and Ian , well, they just sound great on this song so it really did become 'Black Purple'. Personally, I love the irony of it all. ~ Ian Gillan, #NFDB
925:At the morgue, people were so desensitized that they would eat lunch in the glass walled room adjacent to the autopsy room. A viewing room. Because it had the best air conditioning in the building. So they would eat in there and maybe somebody would come in who had been found after being dead for three days and they would say: That is the exact purple I want for those drapes in the study. They didn't miss a beat. They could eat through anything. ~ David Sedaris, #NFDB
926:This great purple butterfly,
In the prison of my hands,
Has a learning in his eye
Not a poor fool understands.
Once he lived a schoolmaster
With a stark, denying look;
A string of scholars went in fear
Of his great birch and his great book.
Like the clangour of a bell,
Sweet and harsh, harsh and sweet.
That is how he learnt so well
To take the roses for his meat.
~ William Butler Yeats, Another Song Of A Fool
,#NFDB
927:I have walked by stalls in the market-place where books, dog-eared and faded from their purple, have burst with a white hosanna. I have seen people crowned with a double crown, holding in either hand the crook and flail, the power and the glory. I have understood how the scar becomes a star, I have felt the flake of fire fall, miraculous and pentecostal. My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are grey faces that peer over my shoulder. ~ William Golding, #NFDB
928:Q&As covered my fave color (purple), my fave shows (Family Ties and Cosby), my height (5′ 7″), weight (130 pounds) and eye color (hazel). They also printed false information. One said my parents were a psychologist and a newspaper reporter. Sure, my television parents held those careers—my real parents were a math/P.E. teacher and a housewife/manager (of me). I was supposed to be the coolest kid on the planet, but no one knew what a dork I was. ~ Kirk Cameron, #NFDB
929:Serena Killingsworth walked toward them, carrying her cello in a brown case. Her short hair, currently colored Crayola-red, was twisted into bobby-pin curls. A nose ring glistened on the side of her nose. She wore purple lipstick, red-brown shadow around her green eyes, and a smile that seemed to hold a secret. She was new at school. Vanessa liked her look and especially admired the way she seemed so oblivious to what other people thought about her. ~ Lynne Ewing, #NFDB
930:I’m starved for different light, a different sun, different sky. I’ve never really thought about it before, but it’s a miracle how many kinds of light there are in the world, how many skies: the pale brightness of spring, when it feels like the whole world is blushing; the lush, bright boldness of a July noon; purple storm skies and a green queasiness just before lightning strikes and crazy multicolored sunsets that look like someone’s acid trip. I ~ Lauren Oliver, #NFDB
931:I rolled my eyes and slipped the purple silk over my head, crawling in bed beside him. I straddled his lap and kissed his neck, giggling when he let his head fall against the headboard. “Again? You’re gonna kill me, Pidge.”
“You can’t die,” I said, covering his face with kisses. “You’re too damn mean.”
“No, I can’t die because there are too many jackasses falling over themselves to take my place! I may live forever just to spite them! ~ Jamie McGuire,#NFDB
932:The Tide Rock
How sleeps yon rock, whose half-day's bath is done.
With broad blight side beneath the broad bright sun,
Like sea-nymph tired, on cushioned mosses sleeping.
Yet, nearer drawn, beneath her purple tresses
From drooping brows we find her slowly weeping.
So many a wife for cruel man's caresses
Must inly pine and pine, yet outward bear
A gallant front to this world's gaudy glare.
Ilfracombe, 1849.
~ Charles Kingsley,#NFDB
933:We spent a long time learning the craft of songwriting, Roger Glover and I, for a few years before we joined Deep Purple. You learn about the percussive value of words, and you learn about rhyme and meter. You learn that you can't transform a poem into a song lyric, mostly because the spoken shape of words is different than the sung shape of words. You wouldn't use the vowel 'U' or the vowel sound 'ooo' for a high note for example, its very difficult. ~ Ian Gillan, #NFDB
934:And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core. ~ W B Yeats,#NFDB
935:He suggested I play golf, but finally agreed to give me something that, he said, "would really work"; and going to a cabinet, he produced a vial of violet-blue capsules banded with dark purple at one end, which, he said, had just been placed on the market and were intended not for neurotics whom a draft of water could calm if properly administered, but only for great sleepless artists who had to die for a few hours in order to live for centuries. ~ Vladimir Nabokov, #NFDB
936:When you're shopping, too, you feel like you're designing as you're shopping. You're like, 'I love this, but I wish it was shorter or I wish it was purple. I wish it was a different fabric,' you know. It starts there, but then when you have to start from scratch, it really comes with an idea first, and then... you want to tweak and then you come up with something else and you want to add to it or change. It's fun. It's like an ocean - you can do whatever. ~ Rihanna, #NFDB
937:1097
This&Mdash;Is The Land&Mdash;The Sunset Washes
266
This—is the land—the Sunset washes—
These—are the Banks of the Yellow Sea—
Where it rose—or whither it rushes—
These—are the Western Mystery!
Night after Night
Her purple traffic
Strews the landing with Opal Bales—
Merchantmen—poise upon Horizons—
Dip—and vanish like Orioles!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
938:Entering by the carré, a piece of mirror- glass, set in an oaken cabinet, repeated my image. It said I was changed: my cheeks and lips were sodden white, my eyes were glassy, and my eyelids swollen and purple.
On rejoining my companions, I knew they all looked at me - my heart seemed discovered to them: I believed myself self-betrayed. Hideously certain did it seem that the very youngest of the school must guess why and for whom I despaired. ~ Charlotte Bront,#NFDB
939:So this is me: Friday Valentina. Twenty-year old media studies student at MacArthur University. I’m short and my hair is purple this week. I wear vintage political t-shirts because they’re hilarious and tragic at the same time. I’m obsessed with superheroes—the real ones, not the ones in comics or movies or cartoons. My vlog is the Friday Report: three parts superhero news to three parts superhero snark. That’s what I call balanced journalism. ~ Tansy Rayner Roberts, #NFDB
940:No Taiwanese” was the first rule, which Zhee Hyan, my second brother, had learned slowly and painfully. Under the government’s plan to unify the people with a national language, every syllable of Taiwanese spoken at school brought punishment from the teacher. Taiwanese was for home; Mandarin was for the world. My brother’s hands turned purple with beatings until he finally learned to reflexively clench his mouth before a Taiwanese word slipped out. ~ Shawna Yang Ryan, #NFDB
941:Made up of the glories of the most precious gems, to describe them is a matter of inexpressible difficulty. For there is amongst them the gentler fire of the ruby, there is the rich purple of the amethyst, there is the sea-green of the emerald, and all shining together in an indescribable union. Others, by an excessive heightening of their hues equal all the colours of the painter, others the flame of burning brimstone, or of a fire quickened by oil. ~ Pliny the Elder, #NFDB
942:The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies white and unspotted, in the round of light thrown by a candle. Puffs of darkness sweep into the corners, and keep rolling through the room behind his chair. The air is silver and pearl, for the night is liquid with moonlight.
See how the roof glitters, like ice!
Over there, a slice of yellow cuts into the silver-blue, and beside it stand two geraniums, purple because the light is silver-blue, to-night. ~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
943:At Twilight
NOW the fire is lighted
On the chimney stone,
Day goes down the valley,
I am left alone.
Now the misty purple
Floods the darkened vale,
And the stars come out
On the twilight trail.
The mountain river murmurs
In his rocky bed,
And the stealthy shadows
Fill the house with dread.
Then I hear your laughter
At the open door, —
Brightly burns the fire,
I need fear no more.
~ Bliss William Carman,#NFDB
944:So furiously each other did assayle,
As if their soules they would attonce haue rent
Out of their brests, that streames of bloud did rayle
Adowne, as if their springes of life were spent;
That all the ground with purple bloud was sprent,
And all their armours staynd with bloudie gore,
Yet scarcely once to breath would they relent,
So mortall was their malice and so sore,
Become of fayned friendship which they vow'd afore. ~ Edmund Spenser,#NFDB
945:The fourteen-man snake moved in spasms. . . Their eyes flickered rapidly back and forth as they tried to look in all directions at once. They carried Kool-Aid packages, Tang — anything to kill the chemical taste of the water in their plastic canteens. Soon the smears of purple and orange Kool-Aid on their lips combined with the fear in their eyes to make them look like children returning from a birthday party at which the hostess had shown horror films. ~ Karl Marlantes, #NFDB
946:When I was a schoolgirl my safe haven was a place at the uninhabited part of my parents’ house. I used to climb up to the large windowsill that was facing a spreading plum-tree in the garden. Reading books, or penning my own stories, diaries and poems, it was especially fun to rest there during the warmer seasons of the year with an open window, when the tree was all covered with tender, odorous blossom in spring, and with rich purple fruitage in summer. ~ Sahara Sanders, #NFDB
947:Maybe the most amazing thing is how nice the fish smells. Not pongy at all: it’s like seawater, salty and clean and fresh.
“It’s not exactly Birds Eye fish fingers, is it?” Kelly says, jolted out of her silence by the sight of a whole crate of squid, white and violet with purple tentacles, arranged in overlapping rows.
“This is gross! But kind of interesting,” Paige comments, which is actually quite positive for Paige looking at a lot of raw fish. ~ Lauren Henderson,#NFDB
948:The hard work and big money you used to spend on frequent purchases of print and TV advertising now move to repeated engineering expenses and product failures. If anything, marketing is more time-consuming and expensive than it used to be. You’re just spending the money earlier in the process (and repeating the process more often). This is worth highlighting: The Purple Cow is not a cheap shortcut. It is, however, your best (perhaps only) strategy for growth. ~ Seth Godin, #NFDB
949:I would rather see Rome ruled by a man who once had to ask his accountant tricky questions before his steward could pay the butcher’s bill than by some mad limb like Nero, who was brought up believing himself the son and the grandson of gods, and who thought wearing the purple gave him free rein to indulge his personal vanities, execute real talent, bankrupt the Treasury, burn half of Rome – and bore the living daylights out of paying customers in theatres! ~ Lindsey Davis, #NFDB
950:Or again, take your red banner. You think it's a flag, isn't that what you think? Well, it isn't a flag. It's the purple kerchief of the death woman, she uses it for luring. And why for luring? She waves it and she nods and winks and lures young men to come and be killed, then she sends famine and plague. That's what it is. And you went and believed her. You thought it was a flag. You thought it was: "Come to me, all ye poor and proletarians of the world. ~ Boris Pasternak, #NFDB
951:Wine's terrible for babies." Dorian swept into the sitting room to join me, elegantly arranging himself on a love seat that displayed his purple velvet robes to best effect. "Well of course it is. I'd never dream of giving wine to an infant! What do you take me for, a barbarian? But for you... well, it might go a long way to make you a little less jumpy. You've been positively unbearable to live around. "I can't have it either. It affects the babies in utero. ~ Richelle Mead, #NFDB
952:As we reach the next corner, the entire block ahead of us lights up with a rich purple glow. We backpedal, hunker down in a stairwell, and squint into the light. Something’s happening to those illuminated by it. They’re assaulted by . . . what? A sound? A wave? A laser? Weapons fall from their hands, fingers clutch their faces, as blood sprays from all visible orifices — eyes, noses, mouths, ears. In less than a minute, everyone’s dead and the glow vanishes. ~ Suzanne Collins, #NFDB
953:Come boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our host decrees no water here. Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew, The sluggish thin their blood with dew. For such pale stuff we have no use; For us the purple grape's rich juice. Begone, ye chilling water sprite; Here burning Bacchus rules tonight! Catullus, Selections From Catullus No poems can live long or please that are written by water-drinkers. ~ Horace, #NFDB
954:In the center stood a marble alter, where a kid in a toga was doing some sort of ritual in front of a massive golden statue of the big dude himself:Jupiter the sky god, dressed in a silk XXXL purple toga, holding a lightning bolt. "It doesn't look like that," Percy muttered. "What?" Hazel asked. "The master bolt," Percy said. "What are you talking about?" "I-" Percy frowned. For a second, he'd thought he remembered something. Now it was gone. "Nothing, I guess. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
955:Sit back picture yourself swooping up a shell of purple with foam crests of crystal drops soft nigh they fall unto the sea of morning creep-very-softly mist...and then sort of cascade tinkley-bell like (must I take you by the hand, every so slowly type) and then conglomerate suddenly into a peal of silver vibrant uncomprehendingly, blood singingly, joyously resoundingbells....By my faith if this be insanity, then for the love of God permit me to remain insane. ~ Robert Hunter, #NFDB
956:Menindee
Today it is
dark clouds
moving in from the west,
a deep brown-purple, the colour of sky
before a sand-storm on the desert’s edge.
A dog is barking somewhere
as if to frighten them away.
I realise that I should go around
shutting the doors and windows
and bring in the washing from the line,
but now there is a sudden, eerie coldness,
like the dip
before a great wave
catches and hurls you upwards.
~ David Brooks,#NFDB
957:She Sweeps With Many-Colored Brooms,
She sweeps with many-colored brooms,
And leaves the shreds behind;
Oh, housewife in the evening west,
Come back, and dust the pond!
You dropped a purple ravelling in,
You dropped an amber thread;
And now you've littered all the East
With duds of emerald!
And still she plies her spotted brooms,
And still the aprons fly,
Till brooms fade softly into stars -And then I come away.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
958:At the head of the Forum menu, the equivalent of the Hawaiian Room menu’s cheery “Aloha,” was the portentous “Cenabis bene . . . apud me” from Catullus (“You will dine well . . . at my table”).18 The ice buckets for Champagne were modeled on Roman soldiers’ helmets. The head of Bacchus, the god of wine, decorated copper and brass service plates (made in Milan), and the waiters were gotten up in imperial-purple and royal-blue outfits that vaguely suggested togas. ~ Paul Freedman, #NFDB
959:the small garden was just a slip of earth on the side of the house, bit it seemed like its own universe. The sweet, sharp scent of hundreds of flowers greeted her. Even in the night their colors sang it was a thick, lush blanket of color- luxurious purple and electric blue and sunshine yellow and cheery red. It was like a movie version of an enchanted harden, gorgeous, vivid, and too beautiful to be real. She could dive into the purple of the violets and live there. ~ Anne Ursu, #NFDB
960:And then the blood erupted, roared. Don’t rush this! I was the victim suddenly laid waste as if by a phallic god, slammed by the rushing blood against the floor of the universe, the heart pounding, emptying the frail form it sought to protect. And lo, she was dead. Oh, too soon. Crushed lily on the pillow, except she’d been no lily and I’d seen her grimy petty purple crimes as that blood made a fool of me, wasted me, left me warm, indeed hot, all over, licking my lips. ~ Anne Rice, #NFDB
961:For all the feminist jabber about women being victimized by fashion, it is men who most suffer from conventions of dress. Every day, a woman can choose from an army of personae, femme to butch, and can cut or curl her hair or adorn herself with a staggering variety of artistic aids. But despite the Sixties experiments in peacock dress, no man can rise in the corporate world today, outside the entertainment industry, with long hair or makeup or purple velvet suits. ~ Camille Paglia, #NFDB
962:Have you ever considered how many living things there are on earth?" Cleo asked. "People. Animals. Birds. Fish. Trees. It makes you wonder how anyone could feel lonely. Yet humans do. It's a shame."
She looked at the sky, now a deep shade of purple. "We fear loneliness, Annie, but loneliness itself does not exist. It has no form. It is merely a shadow that falls over us. And just as shadows die when light changes, that sad feeling can depart once we see the truth. ~ Mitch Albom,#NFDB
963:..something like that make me feel what Rhonda, what Farrakhan, say - there is a god. But me when I think of it I'm more inclined to go with Shug in The Colour Purple. God ain' white, he ain' no Jew or Muslim, maybe he ain' even black, maybe he ain' even a 'he.' Even now I go downtown and see .. I see those men in vacant lot share one hot dog and they homeless, that's good as Jesus with his fish. I remember when I had my daughter, nurse nice to me too - all that is god. ~ Sapphire, #NFDB
964:I fumbled with the cables while Dad stood over me, shouting. I kept dropping them. My mind pulsed with panic, which overpowered every thought, so that I could not even remember how to connect red to red, white to white.
Then it was gone. I looked up at my father, at his purple face, at the vein pulsing in his neck. I still hadn't managed to attach the cables. I stood, and once on my feet, didn't care whether the cables were attached. I walked out of the room. ~ Tara Westover,#NFDB
965:It was the year of the Joker in Gotham and beyond. The Caped Crusader was nowhere to be seen – it was not an age of heroes – but his arch-rival in the purple frock coat and striped pantaloons was ubiquitous, clearly delighted to have the stage to himself and hogging the limelight with evident delight. He had seen off the Suicide Squad, his feeble competition, but he permitted a few of his inferiors to think of themselves as future members of a Joker administration. ~ Salman Rushdie, #NFDB
966:WHAT’S WRONG WITH ASSHOLES, BABY? YOU’VE GOT AN ASSHOLE, I’VE GOT AN ASSHOLE! YOU GO TO THE STORE AND BUY A PORTERHOUSE STEAK, THAT HAD AN ASSHOLE! ASSHOLES COVER THE EARTH! IN A WAY TREES HAVE ASSHOLES BUT YOU CAN’T FIND THEM, THEY JUST DROP THEIR LEAVES. YOUR ASSHOLE, MY ASSHOLE, THE WORLD IS FULL OF BILLIONS OF ASSHOLES. THE PRESIDENT HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE CARWASH BOY HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE JUDGE AND THE MURDERER HAVE ASSHOLES … EVEN PURPLE STICKPIN HAS AN ASSHOLE! ~ Charles Bukowski, #NFDB
967:Wine's terrible for babies." Dorian swept into the sitting room to join me, elegantly arranging himself on a love seat that displayed his purple velvet robes to best effect.
"Well of course it is. I'd never dream of giving wine to an infant! What do you take me for, a barbarian? But for you... well, it might go a long way to make you a little less jumpy. You've been positively unbearable to live around.
"I can't have it either. It affects the babies in utero. ~ Richelle Mead,#NFDB
968:After the massacre, the worst domestic terrorist attack since 9/11, General George Casey, army chief of staff, bleated that a “greater tragedy” than the mass murder and maiming would be “if our diversity becomes a casualty.” The administration fraudulently labeled the killings of U.S. troops who were about to deploy to a war zone as “workplace violence,” not international terrorism—a finding that denied Purple Hearts to the soldiers killed and wounded in the attack. ~ Andrew McCarthy, #NFDB
969:He no sooner saw the woman than he saw the aftermath of her - his marriage proposal and her acceptance, the home they would set up together, the drawn rich silk curtains leaking purple light, the bed sheets billowing like clouds, the wisp of aromatic smoke winding from the chimney - only for every wrack of it - its lattice of crimson roof tiles, its gables and dormer windows, his happiness, his future - to come crashing down on him in the moment of her walking past. ~ Howard Jacobson, #NFDB
970:The mouse began to shift and Kammy marvelled at the sight. Soon a second boy stood before her. She hardly noticed Eric appear beside him.
He was dressed much like Eric, though his shirt hung looser on his slimmer frame. His hair was a fluffy, chocolate mess. He was taller than Eric and he glared between them both before his eyes came to rest fully on Kammy. The first thing she noticed was the purple bruise on his cheek. The second was how bright his blue eyes were. ~ Natalie Crown,#NFDB
971:I feel like the reason I ended up becoming a playwright is because I never choose the right word. As a kid, my fantasy profession was to be a novelist. But the thing about writing prose - and maybe great prose writers don't feel this way - but I always felt it was about choosing words. I was always like, "I have to choose the perfect word." And then it would kill me, and I would choose the wrong word or I would choose too many perfect words - I wrote really purple prose. ~ Annie Baker, #NFDB
972:It looks almost as blue in there as it is out here. What makes the Gulf water so blue?” “It’s a different density of water. It’s an altogether different type of water.” “The depth makes it darker, though.” “Only when you look down into it. Sometimes the plankton in it make it almost purple.” “Why?” “Because they add red to the blue I think. I know they call the Red Sea red because the plankton make it look really red. They have terrific concentrations of them there. ~ Ernest Hemingway, #NFDB
973:description of the holy of holies. “The veil encloses the most holy place, another colorful curtain made of the blue, purple, and scarlet of the high priest’s ephod. On it are artistically embroidered images of the cherubim, as symbols of the guardians of Eden.” The veil was a curtain of separation, a barrier that kept humanity ultimately at a distance from Yahweh. Achsah imagined the impressive chimeric cherubim and what they might look like before the throne of Yahweh. ~ Brian Godawa, #NFDB
974:But I prefer the windy days, the days that strip me back, blasted, tossed, who knows where, imagine them, purple-red, silver-pink, natural confetti, thin, fragile, easily crushed and blackened, fading already wherever the air's taken them across the city, the car parks, the streets, the ragged grass verges, dog-ear and adrift on the surfaces of the puddles, flat to the gutter stones, mixing with the litter, their shards of colour circling in the leafy-grimy corners of yards. ~ Ali Smith, #NFDB
975:WHAT’S WRONG WITH ASSHOLES, BABY? YOU’VE GOT AN ASSHOLE, I’VE GOT AN ASSHOLE! YOU GO TO THE STORE AND BUY A PORTERHOUSE STEAK, THAT HAD AN ASSHOLE! ASSHOLES COVER THE EARTH! IN A WAY TREES HAVE ASSHOLES BUT YOU CAN’T FIND THEM, THEY JUST DROP THEIR LEAVES. YOUR ASSHOLE, MY ASSHOLE, THE WORLD IS FULL OF BILLIONS OF ASSHOLES, THE PRESIDENT HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE CARWASH BOY HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE JUDGE AND THE MURDERER HAVE ASSHOLES . . . EVEN PURPLE STICKPIN HAS AN ASSHOLE! ~ Charles Bukowski, #NFDB
976:He settled his big hands on her hips. He let them slide slowly down to cup her ass which she had jammed into a Spanx hide and seek high rise panty. Before slipping on the slinky purple faux wrap dress that her daughter had given her after surviving being held at gunpoint together gift the prior fall. Stella was fairly sure she would enjoy the sensation of Goat’s strong fingers kneading her flesh if it hadn’t gotten numb in its fierce polyester lycra prison hours ago. ~ Sophie Littlefield, #NFDB
977:Read me back the last line.” “ ‘Read me back the last line,’ ” read back the corporal who could take shorthand. “Not my last line, stupid!” the colonel shouted. “Somebody else’s.” “ ‘Read me back the last line,’ ” read back the corporal. “That’s my last line again!” shrieked the colonel, turning purple with anger. “Oh, no, sir,” corrected the corporal. “That’s my last line. I read it to you just a moment ago. Don’t you remember, sir? It was only a moment ago.” “Oh, my God! ~ Joseph Heller, #NFDB
978:Souvenir
Just a rainy day or two
In a windy tower,
That was all I had of you—
Saving half an hour.
Marred by greeting passing groups
In a cinder walk,
Near some naked blackberry hoops
Dim with purple chalk.
I remember three or four
Things you said in spite,
And an ugly coat you wore,
Plaided black and white.
Just a rainy day or two
And a bitter word.
Why do I remember you
As a singing bird?
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay,#NFDB
979:I see myself as no color. I can play the role of a man. I can paint my face white if I want to and play the role of white. I can play a green, I can be a purple. I think I have that kind of frame and that kind of attitude where I can play an animal. If you think in color, then everyone around you is going to think in color and that puts limits on the way you think. I don't think like that. A lot of the roles that I'm doing are roles that a man or a person of any color can do. ~ Grace Jones, #NFDB
980:Some days seem to fit together like a stained glass window. A hundred little pieces of different color and mood that, when combined, create a complete picture. The last twenty-four hours had been like that. The night at the hospital was one pane, sickly green and flickering. The dark hours of the early morning in Grace's bed were another, cloudy and purple. Then the cold blue reminder of my other life this morning, and finally the brilliant, clear pane that was our kiss. ~ Maggie Stiefvater, #NFDB
981:In the center stood a marble alter, where a kid in a toga was doing some sort of ritual in front of a massive golden statue of the big dude himself:Jupiter the sky god, dressed in a silk XXXL purple toga, holding a lightning bolt.
"It doesn't look like that," Percy muttered.
"What?" Hazel asked.
"The master bolt," Percy said.
"What are you talking about?"
"I-" Percy frowned. For a second, he'd thought he remembered something. Now it was gone. "Nothing, I guess. ~ Rick Riordan,#NFDB
982:The Dark Forest
Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead
Hang stars like seeds of light
In vain, though not since they were sown was bred
Anything more bright.
And evermore mighty multitudes ride
About, nor enter in;
Of the other multitudes that dwell inside
Never yet was one seen.
The forest foxglove is purple, the marguerite
Outside is gold and white,
Nor can those that pluck either blossom greet
The others, day or night.
~ Edward Thomas,#NFDB
983:The moment his hand closed about the stone, light blazed from it again, raying out through his fingers. For the first time Tessa saw that he had a design on the back of his hand, drawn there as if in black ink. It looked like an open eye. "As for the temperature of Hell, Miss Gray," he said, "let me give you a piece of advice. The handsome young fellow who's trying to rescue you from a hideous fate it never wrong. Not even if he says the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs. ~ Cassandra Clare, #NFDB
984:WHAT'S WRONG WITH ASSHOLES, BABY? YOU'VE GOT AN ASSHOLE, I'VE GOT AN ASSHOLE! YOU GO TO THE STORE AND BUY A PORTERHOUSE STEAK, THAT HAD AN ASSHOLE! ASSHOLES COVER THE EARTH! IN A WAY TREES HAVE ASSHOLES BUT YOU CAN'T FIND THEM, THEY JUST DROP THEIR LEAVES. YOUR ASSHOLE, MY ASSHOLE, THE WORLD IS FULL OF BILLIONS OF ASSHOLES. THE PRESIDENT HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE CARWASH BOY HAS AN ASSHOLE, THE JUDGE AND THE MURDERER HAVE ASSHOLES . . . EVEN THE PURPLE STICKINPIN HAS AN ASSHOLE! ~ Charles Bukowski, #NFDB
985:Don’t worry about that,” her Maker said. “For now, all I need you to do is watch for the villagers and continue to command your spiders to come here, to Dragon’s Teeth.” “I undersssstand, Maker,” Shaikulud said. “Very good, now go!” The spider closed her purple eyes for just an instant. Herobrine knew she was sending out psychic commands to her spiders. A group of the fuzzy monsters crawled out of the dark hole that sat between the Teeth of the Dragon, and moved to her, their ~ Mark Cheverton, #NFDB
986:I raised the hood of my cape and opened my umbrella. Headmistress had given it to me for my twenty-first birthday, knowing how fond I was of the purple foxglove that bloomed in the park. When open, the underside revealed in each of the panels a spray of painted stems, lush with lavender bells. "No matter how bad the weather, you will always be able to look up and see something that will cheer you," she had said, knowing that my quiet moods often concealed an orphan's melancholy. ~ Karen Essex, #NFDB
987:I took a shower and spent some time on my hair, doing the blow-drying thing, adding some gel and some spray. When I was done I looked like Cher on a bad day. Still, Cher on a bad day wasn’t all that bad. I was down to my last clean pair of spandex shorts. I tugged on a matching sports bra that doubled as a halter top and slid a big, loose, purple T-shirt with a large, droopy neck over my head. I laced up my hightop Reeboks, crunched down my white socks, and felt pretty cool. ~ Janet Evanovich, #NFDB
988:Lightning my pilot sits; In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, It struggles and howls at fits; Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, #NFDB
989:Fire-Flowers
And only where the forest fires have sped,
Scorching relentlessly the cool north lands,
A sweet wild flower lifts its purple head,
And, like some gentle spirit sorrow-fed,
It hides the scars with almost human hands.
And only to the heart that knows of grief,
Of desolating fire, of human pain,
There comes some purifying sweet belief,
Some fellow-feeling beautiful, if brief.
And life revives, and blossoms once again
~ Emily Pauline Johnson,#NFDB
990:Before The Statue Of Endymion
I have come from Miletos to Latmos
on a white chariot drawn by four snow-white mules,
all their trappings silver.
I sailed from Alexandria in a purple trireme
to perform sacred rites—
sacrifices and libations—in honor of Endymion.
And here is the statue. I now gaze in ecstasy
at Endymion's famous beauty.
My slaves empty baskets of jasmine
and auspicious tributes revive the pleasure of ancient days.
~ Constantine P. Cavafy,#NFDB
991:Knyghtwood, though the gales had stripped away most of its leaves, had not lost its fascination for Ben and the twins. Indeed, its spell seemed deeper than before. The trees all had faces now, the twins said, and fingers and toes. They dug their toes in hard when the wind blew, and stretched up their arms to the sky, and pulled down the clouds with their long, grey fingers, and made purple cloaks out of them that they wrapped about their bare limbs when the night fell coldly. ~ Elizabeth Goudge, #NFDB
992:My heart leaps in my chest when her feet slide. Moving sideways. Not closer, not farther. Now it's her turn to prowl. Even though she's only walking, it feels like a dance. I mirror her movements, stepping with her. She's more graceful than I am, a lithe thief born of many years and many twists of fate.
...
The sparks reflect in her eyes. They shudder from brown to purple, giving her an unearthly look, like her gaze might run me through.
Part of me wishes she would. ~ Victoria Aveyard,#NFDB
993:The tang of autumn was in the air and the leaves were falling from the plane trees which line the streets of the towns and villages; the sun shone dazzling bright, and the tops of the mountains glittered like scenes in a fairy-tale. Long after the sun had disappeared the snow-caps were changing from pale pink to lilac and then deep purple. Stop and watch them—for it’s no good being so wrapped up in pictures that you can’t enjoy the realities which the pictures attempt to portray! ~ Upton Sinclair, #NFDB
994:He shut the door softly behind him, and I threw a pillow at it just to prove a point. I stewed for an hour until I was finally able to drift off again, this time with a smile on my face as I imagined using the Scarf to dangle Ren in front of the kraken, but then in my dream I became the kraken and wrapped my tentacles around him, pulled him into my eternal purple embrace, and stole away with him to a murky cavern in the depths of the ocean.
-- Tigers Voyage (Book 3)
Pg. 404 ~ Colleen Houck,#NFDB
995:A man who had to be Detective Roland Dimonte answered the door. He was dressed in jeans, paisley green shirt, black leather vest. He also had on the ugliest pair of snakeskin boots—snow-white with flecks of purple—Myron had ever seen. His hair was greasy. Several strands were matted to his forehead like to flypaper. A toothpick—an actual toothpick—was jutting out of his mouth. His eyes were set deep in a pudgy face, like someone had stuck two brown pebbles in at the last minute. Myron ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
996:Decker stirred and pointed to a purple smudge on the back of Berkshire’s hand. “What’s that?” “Let’s have a closer look,” Wainwright said. She gripped a magnifying glass set on a rotating arm and positioned it over the mark. She turned on a light and aimed it at the dead woman’s hand. Peering through the glass, she said, “Appears to be a stamp of some sort.” Decker took a look through the glass. “Dominion Hospice.” He looked at Milligan, who was already tapping keys on his notebook. ~ David Baldacci, #NFDB
997:My falafel was handed over by a girl in a purple head scarf who had black gemstones for eyes and a gaping red void for a nose. I looked closer and realized it was actually two red voids, one for each missing nostril. Burns covered much of her upper body. The skin on her arms was like paper, and when she cupped her hands to ask for a tip, I could see the bones in her fingers flexing. I pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and folded it into her tiny palms. Her smile burned through us all. ~ Matt Gallagher, #NFDB
998:Neither of the costumes fit properly. Inej’s purple silks were far too loose, and as for Nina … “What the hell is this supposed to be?” she said, looking down at herself. The plunging gown barely covered her substantial cleavage and clung tightly to her buttocks. It had been wrought to look like blue-green scales, giving way to a shimmering chiffon fan. “Maybe a mermaid?” suggested Inej. “Or a wave?” “I thought I was a horse.” “Well they weren’t going to put you in a dress of hooves. ~ Leigh Bardugo, #NFDB
999:He paid me another visit this afternoon. I invited him to accommodate himself in one of Mrs. Lippett's electric-blue chairs, and then sat down opposite to enjoy the harmony. He was dressed in a mustard-colored homespun, with a dash of green and a glint of yellow in the weave, a "heather mixture" calculated to add life to a dull Scotch moor. Purple socks and a red tie, with an amethyst pin, completed the picture. Clearly, your paragon of a doctor is not going to be of much assistance in ~ Jean Webster, #NFDB
1000:The woods were deserted that day.
The stones stood still and silent, as though they were waiting for something. At the center of them all, a jagged piece of amber glowed in the growing darkness. Lights fizzed softly around it, turning pink, orange, purple, blue.
No one saw it. No one ever did. Why would they? No one knoew about its magic, not anymore. They had forgotten all about such magic a long, long time ago. About the same time they stopped believing in faries.
How foolish. ~ Liz Kessler,#NFDB
1001:Yin?” The apprentice let him go. “And what is the well-bred heir to the House of Yin doing brawling in a hallway?” “She punched me in the face!” Nezha screeched. A nasty bruise was already blossoming around his left eye, a bright splotch of purple against porcelain skin. The apprentice raised an eyebrow at Rin. “And why would you do that?” “He insulted my teacher,” she said. “Oh? Well, that’s different.” The apprentice looked amused. “Weren’t you taught not to insult teachers? That’s taboo. ~ R F Kuang, #NFDB
1002:Even the narrow canals around the Rialto teemed with floating shops- a small barge piled with jumbled green grapes, a boat heaped with oranges and limes, and another listing under a mountain of melons. I jogged along, drunk on all the colors and smells of the known world: pyramids of blood oranges from Greece, slender green beans from Morocco, sun-ripened cherries from Provence, giant white cabbages from Germany, fat black dates from Constantinople, and shiny purple eggplants from Holland. ~ Elle Newmark, #NFDB
1003:: “It’s all chemicals, says the biochemistry text. Chlorophylls keep the leaves green while thy are green, carotenoids – as in butter, corn, canary feathers – turn them yellow when the chlorophyll goes. Tannin adds the browns, the bronzes; something called anthocyanin turns leaves red if the sap of the plant is acidic, blue or purple if it is alkaline. Color is a substance, says the chemist.” – John Jerome, Stone Work: Reflections on Serious Play & Other Aspects of Country Life, p. 140. ~ John Jerome, #NFDB
1004:Chiron, I don't think the attic is the proper place for our new Oracle, do you?" "No, indeed." Chiron looked a lot better now that Apollo had worked some medical magic on him. "Rachel may use a guest room in the Big House for now, until we give the matter more thought." "I'm thinking a cave in the hills," Apollo mused. "With torches and a big purple curtain over the entrance . . . really mysterious. But inside, a totally decked-out pad with a game room and one of those home theater systems. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
1005:If you can express something in the simplest way possible, I think there's something noble in that. It's easy to flesh stuff out and get all purple with it, being cryptic and wearing masks... I think it's a bit adolescent. I wanted to write in a way that was vulnerable. I wanted to have courage in stripping back the opaque stuff so it was just raw. I like lyrics that are a lifeline, that have a purpose to them and are not just meandering around in a masturbatory way. They cut the page. ~ Yannis Philippakis, #NFDB
1006:Now, where were we? Read me back the last line.'
'"Read me back the last line,"' read back the corporal who could take shorthand.
'Not my last line, stupid!' the colonel shouted. 'Somebody else's.'
'"Read me back the last line."' read back the corporal.
'That's my last line again!' shrieked the colonel, turning purple with anger.
'Oh, no, sir,' corrected the corporal. 'That's my last line. I read it to you just a moment ago. Don't you remember, sir? It was only a moment ago. ~ Joseph Heller,#NFDB
1007:An Islamic writer recalls her joy in the clothes she wore as a young girl at a wedding: They were always in beautiful bright colors: crimson, pink, turquoise, purple, and embroidered with sparkling crystals, sequins and beads. ... The older girls and women would wear glamorous heavily-beaded silk blouses and long, princess-like skirts. I wanted to wear those fairy-tale clothes too. I longed even more to wear a sari which the women wore so elegantly and which flattered their curves. ~ Shelina Zahra Janmohamed, #NFDB
1008:the rain is coming. little sister, the night broke. the thunder cracked my brain finally. the rain is coming, i promise you. i didn’t mean to but your tears will bring life back. purple flowers grow, the colour blood looks in the veins. they’ll sprout out of my chest. i promise you they’ll crack the ground, grow over the freeways, down the slopes to the sea. i’ll be in their faces. i’ll be in the waves, coming down from the sky. i’ll be inside the one who holds you. and then i won’t be. ~ Francesca Lia Block, #NFDB
1009:After the first glass of vodka you can accept just about anything of life even your own mysteriousness you think it is nice that a box of matches is purple and brown and is called La Petite and comes from Sweden for they are words that you know and that is all you know words not their feelings or what they mean and you write because you know them not because you understand them because you don't you are stupid and lazy and will never be great but you do what you know because what else is there? ~ Frank O Hara, #NFDB
1010:Listen, God love everything you love - and a mess of stuff you don't. But more than anything else, God love admiration. You saying God vain? I ast. Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. What it do when it pissed off? I ast. Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
1011:Perhaps our judgement of the purple woman was unfair. No doubt her theories concerning the "approach of the Teatro" made us all uneasy. But was this reason enough to cast her out from that artistic underworld which was the only society available to her? Like many societies, of course, ours was founded on fearful superstition, and this is always reason enough for any kind of behavior. She had been permanently stigmatized by too closely associating herself with something unclean in its essence. ~ Thomas Ligotti, #NFDB
1012:He walked around the table and stepped up to the counter between her dangling legs. He put his hands on her shoulders and without artifice, pecked her on the mouth. The brotherly kiss had her lips tingling. Was he teasing her, spinning her up? She watched him, assessing the purple around his head and shoulders. Was he trying to act professionally and not make the first gesture? Was he testing her? She caught herself swinging her legs faster in agitation. Do not be nekulturny, she told herself. ~ Jason Matthews, #NFDB
1013:Chiron, I don't think the attic is the proper place for our new Oracle, do you?"
"No, indeed." Chiron looked a lot better now that Apollo had worked some medical magic on him. "Rachel may use a guest room in the Big House for now, until we give the matter more thought."
"I'm thinking a cave in the hills," Apollo mused. "With torches and a big purple curtain over the entrance . . . really mysterious. But inside, a totally decked-out pad with a game room and one of those home theater systems. ~ Rick Riordan,#NFDB
1014:Listen, some girl will see that video and you're going to give her the courage to buy her own purple bikini. You're going to make a difference. Just watch. Girls everywhere, of all sizes, are going to want one. Clothing manufacturers across the globe will be working overtime to produce enough purple swimsuits to satisfy the demand. Girls will stop asking Do these jeans make my butt look big? They won't care if it looks big or small. They'll wear what they want to wear and fucking own it. ~ Jennifer Niven, #NFDB
1015:Your Highlight on page 85 | location 1294-1297 | Added on Friday, 6 June 2014 10:28:20 your boss wants focus groups to prove that a new product is guaranteed to be a success, don’t bother. If the focus group likes it, they’re probably wrong. If your company wants you to pick one and only one product to feature this Christmas, start working on your résumé. You’re not going to invent a Purple Cow with those sorts of odds and that kind of pressure. Things that have to work rarely do anymore. ========== ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1016:Flowers—well—if Anybody
137
Flowers—Well—if anybody
Can the ecstasy define—
Half a transport—half a trouble—
With which flowers humble men:
Anybody find the fountain
From which floods so contra flow—
I will give him all the Daisies
Which upon the hillside blow.
Too much pathos in their faces
For a simple breast like mine—
Butterflies from St. Domingo
Cruising round the purple line—
Have a system of aesthetics—
Far superior to mine.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1017:When asked to "define the difference between fantasy and science fiction," I mouth and mumble and always end up talking about the spectrum, that very useful spectrum, along which one thing shades into another. Definitions are for grammar, not literature, I say, and boxes are for bones. But of course fantasy and science fiction are different, just as red and blue are different; they have different frequencies; if you mix them (on paper—I work on paper) you get purple, something else again. ~ Ursula K Le Guin, #NFDB
1018:Deborah answered in person on the first knock. She looked at me with such a hard, stony face that she must have set the expression in place well before now, so it would be properly congealed when I saw it. She said nothing at all, letting her face do all the talking. Behind her, I could see a dim purple glow from her living room, and hear the sounds of a cartoon show. I recognized one of the voices—it was the only show Cody and Astor could agree on watching, and it involved a platypus, as I recalled. ~ Jeff Lindsay, #NFDB
1019:So what does the color blue say about you?” He studies all the parts of my face—mouth, nose, ears, chin—as if he’s memorizing it for an exam. Then his eyes return to mine. “It says I never had a favorite color until I met this girl in a coffee shop with eyes so blue, they’re almost purple, like the absolute final moments before sunrise. This girl stayed on my mind. When I saw things like a cluster of irises or a peacock at the zoo, I would think of her and say to myself, that is my favorite color. ~ Jessica Hawkins, #NFDB
1020:beer, chatting amiably. They hid their thighs with waist blankets and caped themselves in shoulder blankets that reached the ground. Dindi slithered by them. Unfortunately, the first person Dindi locked eyes with was Great Aunt Sullana. Though the whole plaza separated them, Great Aunt Sullana tore across the market like a tornado on the Purple Plains. She would demand to examine Dindi’s basket, and finding nothing in it except a kitten, pinch her cheek until Dindi stuttered some explanation. The natural ~ Tara Maya, #NFDB
1021:When I look at a sunset as I did the other evening, I don’t find myself saying, “Soften the orange a little on the right hand corner, and put a bit more purple along the base, and use a little more pink in the cloud color.” I don’t do that. I don’t try to control a sunset. I watch it with awe as it unfolds. I like myself best when I can appreciate my staff member, my son, my daughter, my grandchildren, in this same way. I believe this is a somewhat Oriental attitude; for me it is a most satisfying one. ~ Carl R Rogers, #NFDB
1022:I reach over and stroke her hair. When I do, a few of the strands fall off in my fingers. I pull my hand back and slowly wrap them around my finger as I walk to my room and pick my purple hair clip up off the floor. I open the clip and place the strands of hair inside and snap it shut. I place the clip under my bedroom pillow and I go back to my mother’s room. I slide into the bed beside her and wrap my arms around her. She finds my hand and we interlock fingers as we talk without saying a single word. ~ Colleen Hoover, #NFDB
1023:You've got a dress with orchid blossoms embroidered on it. Ribbons in the deepest purple. You favor the color, but not nearly as much as I find myself favoring you.' He took a deep breath. 'As to the stars? Those are what I prefer. More than medical practices and deductions. The universe is vast. A mathematical equation even I have no hope of solving. For there are no limits to the stars; their number infinite. Which is precisely why I measure my love for you by the. An amount too boundless to count. ~ Kerri Maniscalco, #NFDB
1024:God Made A Little Gentian
442
God made a little Gentian—
It tried—to be a Rose—
And failed—and all the Summer laughed—
But just before the Snows
There rose a Purple Creature—
That ravished all the Hill—
And Summer hid her Forehead—
And Mockery—was still—
The Frosts were her condition—
The Tyrian would not come
Until the North—invoke it—
Creator—Shall I—bloom?
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1025:My father calls me a ‘character’, because I tend to say the first thing that pops into my head. He says I’m like my Aunt Lily, who I never knew. It’s a bit weird, constantly being compared to someone you’ve never met. I would come downstairs in purple boots, and Dad would nod at Mum and say, ‘D’you remember Aunt Lily and her purple boots, eh?’ and Mum would cluck and start laughing as if at some secret joke. My mother calls me ‘individual’, which is her polite way of not quite understanding the way I dress. ~ Jojo Moyes, #NFDB
1026:Pastoral
If it were only still!—
With far away the shrill
Crying of a cock;
Or the shaken bell
From a cow's throat
Moving through the bushes;
Or the soft shock
Of wizened apples falling
From an old tree
In a forgotten orchard
Upon the hilly rock!
Oh, grey hill,
Where the grazing herd
Licks the purple blossom,
Crops the spiky weed!
Oh, stony pasture,
Where the tall mullein
Stands up so sturdy
On its little seed!
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay,#NFDB
1027:And then the rose-border. What intensity in those odorous buds of the Bon Silene, making the very spirit bound as though a message had reached it from heaven. And the verbena bed is compassed with fitful fragrance. Even the pansies, with their dewy eyes, are ready to rival the violets now.... Nor must the purple buds of the calycanthus be forgotten. 'Sweet-scented shrub' indeed; for let me hide but a single one of these in some fold of my dress, and the spices of Araby will float around me till the evening. ~ Sarah Smiley, #NFDB
1028:In Trouble And Shame
I look at the swaling sunset
And wish I could go also
Through the red doors beyond the black-purple bar.
I wish that I could go
Through the red doors where I could put off
My shame like shoes in the porch,
My pain like garments,
And leave my flesh discarded lying
Like luggage of some departed traveller
Gone one knows not where.
Then I would turn round,
And seeing my cast-off body lying like lumber,
I would laugh with joy.
~ David Herbert Lawrence,#NFDB
1029:Parisians gasped when Theo paired brown with black- and then found themselves even more shocked when she wore a black corded silk evening gown sewn with amethysts, and later, a purple riding habit with sour-green gloves.
They gasped... and rushed to imitate.
What the French loved most were Theo's epigrammatic rules. They were collected like precious jewels, and even the poorest shopgirls ripped the lace from their Sunday frocks when she was reported to have remarked, "Wear lace to be baptized. Period. ~ Eloisa James,#NFDB
1030:the rain is coming.
little sister, the night broke. the thunder cracked my brain finally. the rain is coming, i promise you. i didn’t mean to but your tears will bring life back. purple flowers grow, the colour blood looks in the veins. they’ll sprout out of my chest. i promise you they’ll crack the ground, grow over the freeways, down the slopes to the sea. i’ll be in their faces. i’ll be in the waves, coming down from the sky. i’ll be inside the one who holds you.
and then i won’t be. ~ Francesca Lia Block,#NFDB
1031:Sometimes there were trips to somebody's cousin's friend's plot of land by the black-water creeks off the highway, trips that killed me with nostalgia even while I lived them, driving aback a pickup, silvery rain pelting bare backs, leaves dancing on the mud trail, branches snapping back onto faces, puddles like lakes forded in the sinking vehicle, bushcook and red rum and drenched cricket, jamoon splattered purple upon the wet soil - the remarkable freedom of a forgotten and irrelevant place on earth. ~ Rahul Bhattacharya, #NFDB
1032:After the first glass of vodka
you can accept just about anything
of life even your own mysteriousness
you think it is nice that a box
of matches is purple and brown and is called La Petite and comes from Sweden
for they are words that you know and that is all you know words not their feelings or what they mean and you write because you know them not because you understand them because you don't you are stupid and lazy and will never be great but you do what you know because what else is there? ~ Frank O Hara,#NFDB
1033: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. ~ V C Andrews, #NFDB
1034:In October
NOW come the rosy dogwoods,
The golden tulip-tree,
And the scarlet yellow maple,
To make a day for me.
The ash-trees on the ridges,
The alders in the swamp,
Put on their red and purple
To join the autumn pomp.
The woodbine hangs her crimson
Along the pasture wall,
And all the bannered sumacs
Have heard the frosty call.
Who then so dead to valor
As not to raise a cheer,
When all the woods are marching
In triumph of the year?
~ Bliss William Carman,#NFDB
1035:Your Highlight on page 63 | location 958-961 | Added on Thursday, 5 June 2014 15:38:27 A slogan that accurately conveys the essence of your Purple Cow is a script. A script for the sneezer to use when she talks with her friends. The slogan reminds the user, “Here’s why it’s worth recommending us; here’s why your friends and colleagues will be glad you told them about us.” And best of all, the script guarantees that the word of mouth is passed on properly – that the prospect is coming to you for the right reason. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1036:One man, an investment banker from Cantor Fitzgerald, took her to see the viewing deck like a good Samaritan since he felt sorry for her, and… and it was like flying, she could see the entire city, she could see the top of the clouds and the ocean, the pink and purple of the late sunset, and he told her, “it’s the closest we can ever get to heaven! These buildings connect everyone together like a big community!”
“If this is the closest place to heaven, are you an angel investor?” she’d asked curiously. ~ Rebecca McNutt,#NFDB
1037:The boat was vacuum-packed with Albanians, four generations to a family: great-grandmother, air-dried like a chilli pepper, deep red skin and a hot temper; grandmother, all sun-dried tomato, tough, chewy, skin split with the heat; getting the kids to rub olive oil into her arms; mother, moist as a purple fig, open everywhere - blouse, skirt, mouth, eyes, a wide-open woman, lips licking the salt spray flying from the open boat. Then there were the kids, aged four and six, a couple of squirs, zesty as lemons. ~ Jeanette Winterson, #NFDB
1038: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, #NFDB
1039:I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.' 'What it do when it pissed off?' I ast. 'Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.' 'Yeah?' I say. 'Yeah,' she say. 'It always making little surprises and springing them on us when us least expect.' 'You mean it want to be loved, just like the bible say.' 'Yes, Celie,' she say. 'Everything want to be loved. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
1040:you have perhaps seen, blinking in a corner of his iron cage, a huge, grotesque kind of monkey, a creature with ugly, sagging, hairless skin below his eyes and a bright purple underbody. This monkey is a true monster. In the completeness of his ugliness he achieved a kind of perverted beauty. Children stopping before the cage are fascinated, men turn away with an air of disgust, and women linger for a moment, trying perhaps to remember which one of their male acquaintances the thing in some faint way resembles. ~ Sherwood Anderson, #NFDB
1041:There seemed something rather devotional about her pose, the stillness, so that I thought at last, She is praying!, and made to draw my eyes away in sudden shame. But then she stirred. Her hands opened, she raised them to her cheek, and I caught a flash of colour against the pink of her work-roughened palms. She had a flower there, between her fingers—a violet, with a drooping stem. As I watched, she put the flower to her lips, and breathed upon it, and the purple of the petals gave a quiver and seemed to glow . . . ~ Sarah Waters, #NFDB
1042:1241
Who Never Lost, Are Unprepared
73
Who never lost, are unprepared
A Coronet to find!
Who never thirsted
Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!
Who never climbed the weary league—
Can such a foot explore
The purple territories
On Pizarro's shore?
How many Legions overcome—
The Emperor will say?
How many Colors taken
On Revolution Day?
How many Bullets bearest?
Hast Thou the Royal scar?
Angels! Write "Promoted"
On this Soldier's brow!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1043:Quoyle remembered purple-brown seckle pears the size and shape of figs, his father taking the meat off with pecking bites, the smell of fruit in their house, litter of cores and peels in the ashtrays, the grape cluster skeletons, peach stones like hens' brains on the windowsill, the glove of banana peel on the car dashboard. In the sawdust on the basement workbench galaxies of seeds and pits, cherry stones, long white date pits like spaceships. . . . The hollowed grapefruit skullcaps, cracked globes of tangerine peel. ~ Annie Proulx, #NFDB
1044:He domesticated and developed the native wild flowers. He had one hill-side solidly clad with that low-growing purple verbena which mats over the hills of New Mexico. It was like a great violet velvet mantle thrown down in the sun; all the shades that the dyers and weavers of Italy and France strove for through centuries, the violet that is full of rose colour and is yet not lavender; the blue that becomes almost pink and then retreats again into sea-dark purple—the true Episcopal colour and countless variations of it. ~ Willa Cather, #NFDB
1045:My Faith is larger than the Hills— So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wheel To show the Sun the way— 'Tis first He steps upon the Vane— And then — upon the Hill— And then abroad the World He go To do His Golden Will— And if His Yellow feet should miss— The Bird would not arise— The Flowers would slumber on their Stems— No Bells have Paradise— How dare I, therefore, stint a faith On which so vast depends— Lest Firmament should fail for me— The Rivet in the Bands ~ Emily Dickinson, #NFDB
1046:She turns to Madden.
"Please don't make me get in the car with her. I have dreams."
Madden smiles. I wouldn't think he would have such a familiar repartee with someone with a purple mohawk.
"I think Viva has a point; there's really no reason for me to drive."
Viva and I both turn to Madden, each of us hoping he will call it a day.
"Nice try, Paige. But you never know. Perhaps you'll learn something."
"And perhaps YOU'LL learn something."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know, actually. ~ Andrea Portes,#NFDB
1047:He domesticated and developed the native wild flowers. He had one hill-side solidly clad with that low-growing purple verbena which mats over the hills of New Mexico. It was like a great violet velvet mantle thrown down in the sun; all the shades that the dyers and weavers of Italy and France strove for through centuries, the violet that is full of rose colour and is yet not lavender; the blue that becomes almost pink and then retreats again into sea-dark purple--the true Episcopal colour and countless variations of it. ~ Willa Cather, #NFDB
1048:The life of each and every one of us has been written. The crucifix is my autobiography. The blood is the ink. The nails the pen. The skin the parchment. On every line of that body I can trace my life. In the crown of thorns I can read my pride. In the hands that are dug with nails, I can read avarice and greed. In the flesh hanging from him like purple rags, I can read my lust. In feet that are fettered, I can find the times that I ran away and would not let him follow. Any sin that you can think of is written there. ~ Fulton J Sheen, #NFDB
1049:Even though I didn't notice it while it was happening, I got reminded in ninth grade of a few things I guess I should have known all along.
1. A first kiss after five months means more than a first kiss after five minutes.
2. Always remember what it was like to be six.
3. Never, ever stop believing in magic, no matter how old you get. Because if you keep looking long enough and don't give up, sooner or later you're going to find Mary Poppins. And if you're reall lucky, maybe even a purple balloon. ~ Steve Kluger,#NFDB
1050:[...] Black is the absence of colour and light. White is purity, it is undivided light - light not broken down into colours. Red is the epitome of colour, its zenith and its point of greatest intensity. This ordering of things becomes even more evident if, between white and red, a whole series of intermediate colours, such as lemon-yellow, yellow-ochre, and bright red, is inserted, or again, if one speaks of a 'peacock's tail' of gradually unfolding colours. In this case royal purple is always the seal of each series. ~ Titus Burckhardt, #NFDB
1051:Listen, God love everything you love - and a mess of stuff you don't. But more than anything else, God love admiration.
You saying God vain? I ast.
Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.
What it do when it pissed off? I ast.
Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back. ~ Alice Walker,#NFDB
1052:The island. As I tally my losses, it figures large there. If God takes a beloved one unto himself, we feel that loss in our heart. Yet we know well enough that nowt will quicken the dead, and so we must strive to be reconciled. But the island—its briny air, its ever changing light—these things yet exist. There, the clean and glassy breakers still beat upon the sands, the clay cliffs still flare russet and purple each sunset. All of this goes on, but I am not there to rejoice in it. It is a loss I feel on my very skin. ~ Geraldine Brooks, #NFDB
1053:Children of the Cosmos never say goodbye, only minor interruptions appear like small forevers. Only time when we must communicate with the vibrations of desperate souls, and then it’s morning again, and the sun steps out from hiding, and our world glistens. Spectrums flash and fade, streaks of purple and orange shot with soulasphere. Our voices ripple and prance, our bodies glow like stars and melt; transformed and reformed into compressed constellations that will continue to continue. Yet we are only children of the Cosmos. ~ Amiri Baraka, #NFDB
1054:Rusty Crimson
(Chirstmas Day, 1917)THE FIVE O'CLOCK prairie sunset is a strong man going to
sleep after a long day in a cornfield.
The red dust of a rusty crimson is fixed with two fingers of lavender. A hook of
smoke, a woman's nose in charcoal and ... nothing.
The timberline turns in a cover of purple. A grain elevator humps a shoulder. One
steel star whisks out a pointed fire. Moonlight comes on the stubble.
'Jesus in an Illinois barn early this morning, the baby Jesus ... in flannels ...'
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1055:Blue is the insides of something mysterious and lonely. I'd look at fish and birds, thinking the sky and water colored them. The first abyss is blue. An artist must go beyond the mercy of satin or water-from a gutty hue to that which is close to royal purple. All seasons and blossoms inbetween. Lavender. Theatrical and outrageous electric. Almost gray. True and false blue. Water and oil. The gas jet breathing in oblivion. The unstruck match. The blue of absence. The blue of deep presence. The insides of something perfect. ~ Yusef Komunyakaa, #NFDB
1056:I took a last nervous glance at myself in the mirror. I’d brushed the thick waves of my hair until they shimmered down my back, and I’d dressed them off my face with a circlet of red gold that twined about my brow. I had to admit, the look suited me. A gown of leaf-green wool under a russet-and-purple mantle draped the lines of my body. The torc around my neck gleamed, and the stacked bronze and silver bangles on my wrists jangled as I pushed aside my door curtain and headed up the winding path to my father’s great hall. ~ Lesley Livingston, #NFDB
1057:If with love thy heart has burned; If thy love is unreturned; Hide thy grief within thy breast, Though it tear thee unexpressed; For when love has once departed From the eyes of the false-hearted, And one by one has torn off quite The bandages of purple light; Though thou wert the loveliest Form the soul had ever dressed, Thou shalt seem, in each reply, A vixen to his altered eye; Thy softest pleadings seem too bold, Thy praying lute will seem to scold; Though thou kept the straightest road, Yet thou errest far and broad. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, #NFDB
1058:Now, where were we? Read me back the last line.” “ ‘Read me back the last line,’ ” read back the corporal who could take shorthand. “Not my last line, stupid!” the colonel shouted. “Somebody else’s.” “ ‘Read me back the last line,’ ” read back the corporal. “That’s my last line again!” shrieked the colonel, turning purple with anger. “Oh, no, sir,” corrected the corporal. “That’s my last line. I read it to you just a moment ago. Don’t you remember, sir? It was only a moment ago.” “Oh, my God! Read me back his last line, stupid. ~ Joseph Heller, #NFDB
1059:Wes’s big hand pulls back the tissue. He squints at the thing inside. Then he carries the box over to the window to see it better. “It’s…made of purple Skittles?” “Yeah.” My voice is like gravel. He picks it up in two fingers, the one-inch circular shape outlined against the city lights. “It’s a…?” He bites off the question, as if afraid to guess wrong. “Ring,” I croak. “You…I…” My mouth is like sandpaper. “In that interview, you said you wanted…” Deep breaths. “To get married some day. And I think that’s something we should do. ~ Sarina Bowen, #NFDB
1060:Atira! Heath!" I hugged Atira first, then threw myself into Heath's arms. But I pulled back quickly. "Heath! Your eye! What happened?"
His eye was black, with deep purple bruises and swelling all around. It was almost completely swollen shut.
Heath grimaced. "Nothing, Lara." He glanced over at Atira, who glared right back at him.
"Next time, you will not get between a warrior of the Plains and her enemy." Atira snapped, clearly unsympathetic.
"Oh, there's a truth that needs telling!" Simus crowed. ~ Elizabeth Vaughan,#NFDB
1061:With the first glass of wine, the stilted silence prevails. A plate of warm buffalo mozzarella appears, speckled with pink peppercorns, and something about that combination of tang and spice, cream and crunch, tells you that tonight will be different from the others you've spent in Japan.
With the second glass of wine, your neighbors look over and offer a kanpai. Another plate arrives, this one a few pieces of seared octopus, the purple tentacles curled like crawling vines around a warm mound of barely mashed potatoes. ~ Matt Goulding,#NFDB
1062:He tilted back in the decaying lawn chair, almost went over on his back, and used up some more of his screwdriver. The screwdriver was in a glass he had gotten free from a McDonald's restaurant. There was some sort of purple animal on the glass. Something called a Grimace. Gary ate a lot of his meals at the Castle Rock McDonald's, where you could still get a cheap hamburger. Hamburgers were good. But as for the Grimace... and Mayor McCheese... and Monsieur Ronald Fucking McDonald... Gary Pervier didn't give a shit for any of them. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
1063:Him! Him! Captain Eliot Rosewater–Silver Star, Bronze Star, Soldier's Medal, and Purple Heart with Cluster! Sailing champion! Ski champion! Him! Him! My God–the number of times life has said, 'Yes, yes, yes,' to him! Millions of dollars, hundreds of significant friends, the most beautiful, intelligent, talented, affectionate wife imaginable! A splendid education, an elegant mind in a big, clean body–and what was his reply when life says nothing but, 'Yes, yes, yes'? "'No, no, no.'
"Why? Will someone tell me why?"
No one did. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,#NFDB
1064:Thinking of Chase, Katie pulled out her phone and let out a rather large gasp, His text read: I'm watching this hot girl with purple hair walk into a sex shop. I told you I would take care of you. ;-)
Becca hung up the clothes in the changing room and said, "Well, either someone sent you Smurf porn or it just got really hot in here." Katie's cheeks flushed darker. "Neither, just…men are stupid." Becca closed the door on her and said, "Preaching to the choir, baby. Preaching to the freaking choir.""
-Katie & Becca ~ Codi Gary,#NFDB
1065:When the Gauls laid waste Rome, they found the senators clothed in their robes, and seated in stern tranquillity in their curule chairs; in this manner they suffered death without resistance or supplication. Such conduct was in them applauded as noble and magnanimous; in the hapless Indians it was reviled as both obstinate and sullen. How truly are we the dupes of show and circumstances! How different is virtue, clothed in purple and enthroned in state, from virtue, naked and destitute, and perishing obscurely in a wilderness. ~ Washington Irving, #NFDB
1066:Why does your weak king send a filthy pirate to do his bidding?” sneered the Fjerdan ambassador, his words echoing across the cathedral.
“Privateer,” corrected Sturmhond. “I suppose he thought my good looks would give me the advantage. Not a concern where you’re from, I take it?”
“Preening, ridiculous peacock. You stink of Grisha foulness.”
Sturmhond sniffed the air. “I’m amazed you can detect anything over the reek of ice and inbreeding.”
The ambassador turned purple, and one of his companions hastily drew him away. ~ Leigh Bardugo,#NFDB
1067:Every morning they made sure that they had removed all clues to their presence, then set off to find another lonely and secluded spot, traveling by Apparition to more woods, to the shadowy crevices of cliffs, to purple moors, gorse-covered mountainsides, and once a sheltered and pebbly cove. Every twelve hours or so they passed the Horcrux between them as though they were playing some perverse, slow-motion game of pass-the-parcel, where they dreaded the music stopping because the reward was twelve hours of increased fear and anxiety. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1068:He said that he was sorry but Robert Bey had called and told him i was no longer in the party. I was burnt. I got the Bronx Ministry to put him on the phone and proceeded to call him the unprincipled, arrogant idiot he was... i hate arrogance whether it's white or purple or Black. Some people let power get to their heads... the only great people i have met have been modest and humble. You can't claim that you love people when you don't respect them, and you can't call for political unity unless you practice it in your relationships. ~ Assata Shakur, #NFDB
1069:Surrounded by unfeeling creditors, and mercenary attendants upon the sick, and meeting in the height of her anxiety and sorrow with little regard or sympathy even from the women about her, it is not surprising that the affectionate heart of the child should have been touched to the quick by one kind and generous spirit, however uncouth the temple in which it dwelt. Thank Heaven that the temples of such spirits are not made with hands, and that they may be even more worthily hung with poor patch-work than with purple and fine linen! ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
1070:AFTERGLOW Tim Skelton has Native Americans to thank for the hobby he loves. Scientists believe that all purple martins originally nested under rocks, empty crevices and abandoned woodpecker nests. Then Native Americans like the Choctaw and Chickasaw began hanging gourds from the tops of saplings for the birds, who were helpful in chasing away bugs and were a joy to have around. The birds’ new nests were bigger and safer, letting them lay more eggs and raise more young. The Chippewa name for the martin was “my-ku-dé-shau-shaú-wun-ni-bí-si. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1071:I had a dream that I saw God walking across Harrison on the far side of the lake, a God so gigantic that above the waist He was lost in a clear blue sky. In the dream I could hear the rending crack and splinter of breaking trees as God stamped the woods into the shape of His footsteps. He was circling the lake, coming toward the Bridgton side, toward us, and all the houses and cottages and summer places were bursting into purple-white flame like lightning, and soon the smoke covered everything. The smoke covered everything like a mist. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
1072:Jake!” Max was the first to spot him. “Did you see us in the parade?” Ben asked. “Sure did, little man. It was the best car there.” “Have you eaten?” Meridith asked. “No, ma’am.” He noticed Meridith’s foot propped on a cooler, a bag of ice over the ankle. “What happened?” “Oh, she took a little stumble,” the brunette woman offered. “You okay?” Jake lifted the Ziploc bag. Her ankle was almost purple. “Ouch.” “Told you I was clumsy.” The word took him back to the dance lessons, and he could almost feel Meridith in his arms again. “Don’t ~ Denise Hunter, #NFDB
1073:At the concession stand, Leroy Ninker said, “Thank you very much!” He said, “Extra butter on that?” He also said, “Yippie-i-oh.” Leroy Ninker said “Yippie-i-oh” because Leroy Ninker had a dream. He wanted to be a cowboy. On Wednesday nights, the Bijou Drive-In Theater ran a Western double feature, and Leroy Ninker stood and watched in wonder as the great white expanse of the Bijou screen filled with purple mountains, wide-open plains, and cowboys. The cowboys wore ten-gallon hats. They wore boots. They carried lassos. The cowboys were ~ Kate DiCamillo, #NFDB
1074:Did you know that we too left civilization behind? The scribblers were closing in on all sides, you see. The clerks with their purple tongues and darting eyes, their shuffling feet and sloped shoulders, their bloodless lists. Oh, measure it all out! Acceptable levels of misery and suffering!’ The cane swung down, thumped hard on the ground. ‘Acceptable? Who the fuck says any level is acceptable? What sort of mind thinks that?’ Karsa grinned. ‘Why, a civilized one.’ ‘Indeed!’ Shadowthrone turned to Cotillion. ‘And you doubted this one! ~ Steven Erikson, #NFDB
1075:Sam didn’t stop singing. He sang every Mardi Gras and Louisiana-themed song he could think of, including “You Are My Sunshine.” And I finally relaxed; the Sazerac helped, of course. I sat back on his old purple couch and listened to his voice. And I realized, as he sang to me, that he was sparing us the potential awkwardness of reacquainting. We didn’t have to talk; we didn’t have to think about sex right away. We became comfortable with each other while he sang. And by the time he was finished, it was like we had always been together. ~ Elizabeth LaBan, #NFDB
1076:Whenever I had to fill out a form describing my children’s race, I wavered in the grip of deep uncertainty. Depending on the status of my inner dialogue, I might describe my children as “Caucasian” or as “Other.” The fact that they belonged in none of the usual categories: black, Hispanic, or Native American, surely supported my notion that Iranians’ racial status was TBA. Eventually, it dawned on me that the people fixating on my race don’t really care whether I’m black, brown, or purple. What matters to them is that I am not white. ~ Lila Azam Zanganeh, #NFDB
1077:Solitaire
WHEN night drifts along the streets of the city,
And sifts down between the uneven roofs,
My mind begins to peek and peer.
It plays at ball in old, blue Chinese gardens,
And shakes wrought dice-cups in Pagan temples,
Amid the broken flutings of white pillars.
It dances with purple and yellow crocuses in its hair,
And its feet shine as they flutter over drenched grasses.
How light and laughing my mind is,
When all the good folk have put out their bed-room candles,
And the city is still!
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
1078:Perched up on salvaged bricks, the half-pipes made perfect planters with an industrial edge that oddly complemented Sugar's pretty favorites: pansies, lantana, verbena and heliotrope.
She laid two of them by the long wall of the taller building next door and planted a clematis vine at one end and a moonflower vine at the other: the clematis because the variety she picked had the prettiest purple bloom and the moonflower because it opened in the early evening and emanated a heavenly scent just when a person most felt like smelling one. ~ Sarah Kate Lynch,#NFDB
1079:The Lonesome For They Know Not What
262
The lonesome for they know not What—
The Eastern Exiles—be—
Who strayed beyond the Amber line
Some madder Holiday—
And ever since—the purple Moat
They strive to climb—in vain—
As Birds—that tumble from the clouds
Do fumble at the strain—
The Blessed Ether—taught them—
Some Transatlantic Morn—
When Heaven—was too common—to miss—
Too sure—to dote upon!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1080:I try unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. “So what does the color blue say about you?” He studies all the parts of my face—mouth, nose, ears, chin—as if he’s memorizing it for an exam. Then his eyes return to mine. “It says I never had a favorite color until I met this girl in a coffee shop with eyes so blue, they’re almost purple, like the absolute final moments before sunrise. This girl stayed on my mind. When I saw things like a cluster of irises or a peacock at the zoo, I would think of her and say to myself, that is my favorite color. ~ Jessica Hawkins, #NFDB
1081:O White Devil, you do not want to purloin that purple fruit, for I have four thousand years of ancestors and civilization on you; my grandparents built the railroads and dug the silver mines, and my parents survived the earthquake, the fire, and a society that outlawed even being Chinese; I am mother to a dozen, grandmother to a hundred, and great-grandmother to a legion; I have birthed babies and washed the dead; I am history and suffering and wisdom; I am a Buddha and a dragon; so get your fucking hand off my eggplant before you lose it. ~ Christopher Moore, #NFDB
1082:The high priest’s white linen undergarments represent righteousness.” It was a righteousness not encountered in pagan high priests that were often naked or half-naked in a display of savage uncleanness. He continued, “His robe is a seamless blue garment trimmed with multicolored pomegranates and golden bells to symbolize the fruitfulness and call to worship.” Over the robe, Eleazer wore the ephod, an apron. “The ephod,” said Caleb, “is made of golden wire and blue, purple, and scarlet thread; representing heaven, royalty and blood respectively. ~ Brian Godawa, #NFDB
1083:The wind played in her hair. The moon looked down from its throne in the royal purple sky and smiled at her. The night was brighter than she'd ever seen before, a velvet carpet strewn with stars that winked diamond bright and sang faint ice-cold snatches of song, of distant journeys and enchantments in other realms. The magic in the land nourished parts of her that had been crippled and half dead. She felt stronger, freer and wilder than she ever had before. She leaped high and reached up to tickle the edge of the moon, who laughed in delight. ~ Thea Harrison, #NFDB
1084:had no idea this was your desk, I’m so sorry! But it has such a great view of the lectern,” Evie said with her trademarked bright smile, so blinding, it should have come with sunglasses. Evie finally realized why the students had been staring at her. They had been watching a train wreck about to happen. “Yes, it does,” the purple-haired girl replied, her voice soft and menacing. “And if you don’t move your blue-haired caboose out of it, you’ll get some kind of view, all right.” She snarled, brusquely brushing past Evie and noisily plonking ~ Melissa de la Cruz, #NFDB
1085:I'd Like to See
-----------------
I'd like to see the red
Of the roses in full bloom.
I'd like to see the silver
Of sun's reflection on the moon.
I'd like to see the blue
Of the ocean when it's roaring.
I'd like to see the brown
Of the eagle when it's soaring.
I'd like to see the purple
Of grapes hanging on the vine.
I'd like to see the yellow
Of the sun in summertime.
I'd like to see the russet
Of the chestnuts on the tree.
I'd like to see the faces
Of those that smile at me. ~ Lucinda Riley,#NFDB
1086:My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea; My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me. Raise me a daïs of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes; Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes; Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys; Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me. ~ Christina Rossetti, #NFDB
1087:Nijinsky in 'Le Spectre de la rose' was like nothing I'd seen before. He danced a fifteen-minute solo and it passed like a dream. He was wearing a silk tricot, palest nude, onto which were pinned dozens of silk Bakst petals, pink and red and purple. The most exotic creature, so beautiful, like a shiny, graceful insect on the verge of flight. He leapt as if it cost him no effort, lingering in the air far longer than was possible, and seemed not to touch the stage between times. I believed that night that a man might fly, that anything was possible. ~ Kate Morton, #NFDB
1088:Self-Portrait
She was not a slender woman,
but her skin was milk
mixed in with strawberry jam
& between her legs the word purple was born
& her hair was the color of wheat & yellow butter.
Her eyes were dark as the North Atlantic sea.
She
She
She
She
learned the untranslatable words of dawn.
studied her own fear & wrote its verses.
used the hole in her heart to play wind-music.
built her book-houses over her empty cellar.
She nursed on the muse at first,
then became her own mother.
~ Erica Jong,#NFDB
1089:It's all messed up," she said.
"What is?" he asked quietly from behind her.
"Us."
"We're doing okay."
"I didn't set out to trap you or anything." Keith had accused her of that a hundred times.
"I don't feel trapped."
"Why?"
"I'm a simple guy. I have a beautiful woman in my arms. What's there to complain about?"
"I'm hardly beautiful. I look like an eggplant."
"Purple is my favorite color."
"There's a really annoying dinosaur you might want to watch with Justin over breakfast." But she smiled into the darkness. ~ Dana Marton,#NFDB
1090:Sleeping At Last
Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over,
Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past,
Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover,
Sleeping at last.
No more a tired heart downcast or overcast,
No more pangs that wring or shifting fears that hover,
Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep locked fast.
Fast asleep. Singing birds in their leafy cover
Cannot wake her, nor shake her the gusty blast.
Under the purple thyme and the purple clover
Sleeping at last.
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,#NFDB
1091:These days the couple coexisted uneasily in an edgy state where both knew a separation was inevitable and imminent but neither was brave enough to say so. They were in the almost-terminal stage where trivial things the partner does are keenly noticed and continuously resented; how they wipe the kitchen counters after a meal, the messy state of the bathroom after their shower, the toilet seat up, the toilet seat down. Things routinely ignored before, much less cared about, now glimmered like they were Day-Glo purple, or stunk like milk gone bad. ~ Jonathan Carroll, #NFDB
1092:Catherine Ryan Hyde is the author of 20 published and forthcoming books. Her newer novels include When I Found You, Second Hand Heart, Don’t Let Me Go, and When You Were Older. New Kindle editions of her earlier titles Funerals for Horses, Earthquake Weather and Other Stories, Electric God, and Walter’s Purple Heart are now available. Her newest ebook title is The Long Steep Path: Everyday Inspiration from the Author of PAY IT FORWARD, her first book-length creative nonfiction. Forthcoming frontlist titles are Walk Me Home and Where We Belong. ~ Catherine Ryan Hyde, #NFDB
1093:I’ll Tell You How The Sun Rose
I’ll tell you how the sun rose, A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
"That must have been the sun!"
But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile.
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while
Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1094:Landscape
Now this must be the sweetest place
From here to heaven's end;
The field is white and flowering lace,
The birches leap and bend,
The hills, beneath the roving sun,
From green to purple pass,
And little, trifling breezes run
Their fingers through the grass.
So good it is, so gay it is,
So calm it is, and pure.
A one whose eyes may look on this
Must be the happier, sure.
But me- I see it flat and gray
And blurred with misery,
Because a lad a mile away
Has little need of me.
~ Dorothy Parker,#NFDB
1095:She gave a shiver, and suddenly clutched her arms about her body. She spoke, Gascoigne thought, with an exhilarated fatigue, the kind that comes after the first blush of love, when the self has lost its mooring, and, half-drowning, succumbs to a fearful tide. But addiction was not love; it could not be love. Gascoigne could not romanticize the purple shadows underneath her eyes, her wasted limbs, the dreamy disorientation with which she spoke; but even so, he thought, it was uncanny that opium's ruin could mirror love's raptures with such fidelity. ~ Eleanor Catton, #NFDB
1096:Maryam closed her eyes and listened as Noruz began. 'You know that every spring, crocuses grow in the courtyard outside. They come from the dirt, green shoots from nothing. One day the flowers come purple as night, the nights when we were young. And inside the petals, saffron grows the color of blood. Then they die, and the ground is dirt again where chickens shit. That's the way of things: saffron, shit, saffron, shit.' Maryam smiled at the word in Noruz's mouth. 'I was sad and Dr. Ahlavi told me this: to remember that saffron comes from the dirt. ~ Yasmin Crowther, #NFDB
1097:The fisherman-painter has the best of the bargain as far as the weather goes, for the weather that is too bright for the trout deluges his hills and his sea with floods of radiant colour; the rain that interrupts picture-making puts water into the rivers and the lochs and sends him hopefully forth with rod and creel; while on cold dull days, when there is neither purple on the hills nor fly on the river, he can join a friendly party in a cosy bar and exchange information about Cardinals and March Browns, and practise making intricate knots in gut. ~ Dorothy L Sayers, #NFDB
1098:Every time I’m in an airport,
I think I should drastically
change my life: Kill the kid stuff,
start to act my numbers, set fire
to the clutter and creep below
the radar like an escaped canine
sneaking along the fence line.
I’d be cable-knitted to the hilt,
beautiful beyond buying, believe
in the maker and fix my problems
with prayer and property.
Then, I think of you, home
with the dog, the field full
of purple pop-ups—we’re small
and flawed, but I want to be
who I am, going where
I’m going, all over again. ~ Ada Limon,#NFDB
1099:The very term ['mental disease'] is nonsensical, a semantic mistake. The two words cannot go together except metaphorically; you can no more have a mental 'disease' than you can have a purple idea or a wise space". Similarly, there can no more be a "mental illness" than there can be a "moral illness." The words "mental" and "illness" do not go together logically. Mental "illness" does not exist, and neither does mental "health." These terms indicate only approval or disapproval of some aspect of a person's mentality (thinking, emotions, or behavior). ~ E Fuller Torrey, #NFDB
1100:And what I think is that
when you’re completely alone
and deep inside yourself
with feelings no one else can understand,
there really aren’t a hundred places to go.
It’s like if I woke up one day
and looked outside
and saw purple trees
and red grass and green dogs,
is there anyone I could tell who would understand?
No.
There’d be no one.
It’s exactly like that.
He saw purple trees
and red grass and green dogs
while no one else did.
And maybe,
he just got tired
of seeing them. ~ Lisa Schroeder,#NFDB
1101:Number 99 was an eviscerated ceramics plant. During the war a succession of blazing explosions had burst among the stock of thousands of chemical glazes, fused them, and splashed them into a wild rainbow reproduction of a lunar crater. Great splotches of magenta, violet, bice green, burnt umber, and chrome yellow were burned into the stone walls. Long streams of orange, crimson, and imperial purple had erupted through windows and doors to streak the streets and surrounding ruins with slashing brush strokes. This became the Rainbow House of Chooka Frood. ~ Alfred Bester, #NFDB
1102:She is a wonderful nerd, and he hopes this won't change. He'd be distressed if she were cool-- it'd be as if his flesh and blood had grown up to be purple...
...She has been looking for a pseudonym, not for any purpose but because it took her fancy. "What about Zeus?" she asks.
"Taken, I'm afraid. Though he's been gone long enough that there'd be little room for confusion..."
...Then she swoops back, plunges her fingers into his, and looks up, nostrils swelling with mischief.
"What?"
"Frog."
"I forbid it," he says. "Frog is a boy's name. ~ Tom Rachman,#NFDB
1103:It wasn't that he disliked her. Beatrix was an odd creature, but fairly engaging, and far more attractive than he had remembered. In fact, she had become a beauty in his absence, her gangly coltish shape now curved and graceful...
Christopher shook his head impatiently, trying to redirect his thoughts. But the image of Beatrix Hathaway remained. A lovely oval face, a gently erotic mouth, and haunting blue eyes, a blue so rich and deep it seemed to contain hints of purple. And that silky dark hair, pinned up haphazardly, with teasing locks slipping free. ~ Lisa Kleypas,#NFDB
1104:Shreiking, slithering, torrential shadows of red viscous madness chasing one another through endless, ensanguinated condors of purple fulgurous sky... formless phantasms and kalaidoscopic mutations of a ghoulish, remembered scene; forests of monstrous over-nourished oaks with serpent roots twisting and sucking unnamable juices from an earth verminous with millions of cannibal devils; mound-like tentacles groping from underground nuclei of polypous perversion... insane lightning over malignant ivied walls and demon arcades choked with fungous vegetation... ~ H P Lovecraft, #NFDB
1105:think about how brave it is, to do this: to queue up, and meet your hero. There’s something incredibly intimate about reading, or listening, or looking at someone else’s art. When it truly moves you—when you whoop when Prince whoops in Purple Rain; or cry when Bastian cries in The NeverEnding Story, it is as if you have been them, for a while. You traveled inside them, in their shoes, breathing their breath. Moving with their pulse. A faint ghost of them imprinted, inside you, forever—it responds when you meet them, as if it recognizes its own reflection. ~ Caitlin Moran, #NFDB
1106:At Sunrise
NOW the stars have faded
In the purple chill,
Lo, the sun is kindling
On the eastern hill.
Tree by tree the forest
Takes the golden tinge,
As the shafts of glory
Pierce the summit's fringe.
Rock by rock the ledges
Take the rosy sheen,
As the tide of splendor
Floods the dark ravine.
Like a shining angel
At my cabin door,
Shod with hope and silence,
Day is come once more.
Then, as if in sorrow
That you are not here,
All his magic beauties
Gray and disappear.
~ Bliss William Carman,#NFDB
1107:We need a landing pad for all this rice wine, so we order the only food they serve in this joint: chunky miso from Wakayama, purple piles of pickled plums, and a strangely delicious cream cheese spiked with sake that pairs perfectly with nearly everything we pour.
Nihonshu sneaks up on you. It goes down gently, floral and cold, coating your throat in the most positively medicinal of ways. There is no recoil, no heartburn, no palpable reminder that what you're drinking is an intoxicant- just gentle sweetness and the earthy whisper of fermentation. ~ Matt Goulding,#NFDB
1108:It wasn’t perfect. It isn’t now. I still have days when I want to exit the system quicker then you can say, “don’t you dare give up now”, and you still have days where you can’t even taste the sweetness in raw honey and neither one of us believes in pills. Days when I so want to kiss you but your mouth is sour and my thoughts are bitter and I’m angry…just mad, just crazy with it all. But we are each others home sweet home, Love. The roof is screwed on too tight at times and the walls of our purple house can pinch a little but my God, they are always warm. ~ Yrsa Daley Ward, #NFDB
1109:There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, #NFDB
1110:As I write these lines I lift my eyes and look seaward. I am on the beach of Waikiki on the island of Oahu. Far, in the azure sky, the trade-wind clouds drift low over the blue-green turquoise of the deep sea. Nearer, the sea is emerald and light olive-green. Then comes the reef, where the water is all slaty purple flecked with red. Still nearer are brighter greens and tans, lying in alternate stripes and showing where sandbeds lie between the living coral banks. Through and over and out of these wonderful colours tumbles and thunders a magnificent surf. ~ Jack London, #NFDB
1111:In the first chakra (red), you look at your foundation and the source of your life energy. In the second chakra (orange), you explore your emotions. In the third chakra (yellow), you work on your intellect. The fourth chakra (green) is about opening your heart to your true desire. In the fifth chakra (blue), you learn about authentic self-expression. In the sixth chakra (purple), you work with your intuition. And finally, in the seventh chakra (neutral), you open yourself to finding your highest calling and reaching an elevated level of spiritual development. ~ Tori Hartman, #NFDB
1112:I’ve been sleeping with that darn thing under my pillow,” he said, sounding playfully irritated. I looked up to him, not saying anything, as I was still too stunned to speak. I was sure he could read the questions in my eyes, but he had his own to address. “Do you like it?” A web of thin gold vines crawled up, forming the circle of the ring, holding at the top two gems—one green, one purple—that kissed at the crown of it. I knew the purple one was my birthstone, so the green one must be his. There we were, two little spots of light growing together, inseparable. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1113:One Dignity Delays For All
98
One dignity delays for all—
One mitred Afternoon—
None can avoid this purple—
None evade this Crown!
Coach, it insures, and footmen—
Chamber, and state, and throng—
Bells, also, in the village
As we ride grand along!
What dignified Attendants!
What service when we pause!
How loyally at parting
Their hundred hats they raise!
Her pomp surpassing ermine
When simple You, and I,
Present our meek escutheon
And claim the rank to die!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1114:The Trout
Naughty little speckled trout,
Can't I coax you to come out?
Is it such great fun to play
In the water every day?
Do you pull the Naiads' hair
Hiding in the lilies there?
Do you hunt for fishes' eggs,
Or watch tadpoles grow their legs?
Do the little trouts have school
In some deep sun-glinted pool,
And in recess play at tag
Round that bed of purple flag?
I have tried so hard to catch you,
Hours and hours I've sat to watch you;
But you never will come out,
Naughty little speckled trout!
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
1115:He was a polite, thoughtful boy, who could spend hours in one spot, staring at the purple mountains against the clear blue sky, lost in his own thoughts and emotions. It was said of him that he had a monk’s vocation, and that in Japan he would have been a novice in a Zen monastery. Although the Oomoto faith discouraged proselytizing, Takao surreptitiously preached his religion to Heideko and his children, but Ichimei was the only one who practiced it with fervor, because it fit in with his character and with the concept of life that he had had since childhood. ~ Isabel Allende, #NFDB
1116:As the sun sank over the far purple hills, I imagined how he would welcome me into his war band with silver words praising my prowess with sword and spear. Indeed, the great hall would be crowded with Prydain royalty, including Aeddan, Mael’s older brother by two years. After the passing of their father, Mannuetios, he was now king of the Trinovantes. The thought of seeing him made me smile. We’d all grown up together when Aeddan was still a fosterling in our tribe, but Mael and I hadn’t seen him in a good long while. Not since their father’s great betrayal. ~ Lesley Livingston, #NFDB
1117:Beautiful things of any kind are beautiful in themselves and sufficient to themselves. Praise is extraneous. The object of praise remains what it was—no better and no worse. This applies, I think, even to “beautiful” things in ordinary life—physical objects, artworks. Does anything genuinely beautiful need supplementing? No more than justice does—or truth, or kindness, or humility. Are any of those improved by being praised? Or damaged by contempt? Is an emerald suddenly flawed if no one admires it? Or gold, or ivory, or purple? Lyres? Knives? Flowers? Bushes? ~ Marcus Aurelius, #NFDB
1118:Lividity is what happens to a person’s blood after death. The heart stops, blood pressure collapses, liquid blood drains and sinks and settles into the lowest parts of the body under the simple force of gravity. It rests there and over a period of time it stains the skin liverish purple. Somewhere between three and six hours later the color fixes permanently, like a developed photograph. A guy who falls down dead on his back will have a pale chest and a purple back. Vice versa for a guy who falls down dead on his front. But Brubaker’s lividity was all over the place. ~ Lee Child, #NFDB
1119:Adam saw her eyes look up to the right. He didn’t necessarily buy the idea that you could tell lies by the way the eyes move, but he did know that when someone’s eyes look up and to the right, it usually indicated that the person was visually remembering things, as opposed to the left, which meant visually constructing things. Of course, like most generalizations, you couldn’t really count on it, and visually constructing did not mean lying. If you asked someone to think of a purple cow, that would lead to visual construction, which isn’t a lie or deception. Either ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
1120:All over the city lights were coming on in the purple-blue dusk. The street lights looked delicate and frail, as though they might suddenly float away from their lampposts like balloons. Long twirling ribbons of light, red, green, violet, were festooned about the doorways of drugstores and restaurants--and the famous electric signs of Broadway had come to life with glittering fish, dancing figures, and leaping fountains, all flashing like fire. Everything was beautiful. Up in the deepening sky above the city the first stars appeared white and rare as diamonds. ~ Elizabeth Enright, #NFDB
1121:A Vagabond Song
There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.
~ Bliss William Carman,#NFDB
1122:I was a she was a he was a we were a girl and a girl and a boy and a boy, we were blades, were a knife that could cut through myth, were two knives thrown by a magician, were arrows fired by a god, we hit heart, we hit home, we were the tail of a fish were the reck of a cat were the beack of a bird were the feather that mastered gravity were high above every landscape then down deep in the purple haze of the heather were roamin in a gloamin in a brash unending Scottish piece of perfect jiggling reeling reel can we really keep this up? this fast? this high? this happy? ~ Ali Smith, #NFDB
1123:Shug: More than anything God love admiration.
Celie: You saying God is vain?
Shug: No, not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off when you walk by the colour purple in a field and don't notice it.
Celie: You saying it just wanna be loved like it say in the bible?
Shug: Yeah, Celie. Everything wanna be loved. Us sing and dance, and holla just wanting to be loved. Look at them trees. Notice how the trees do everything people do to get attention... except walk?
[they laugh]
Shug: Oh Miss Celie, I feels like singing! ~ Alice Walker,#NFDB
1124:I want to feel that sometimes we leave the operation behind, that there is just you and me." Her bossom heaved in her brassiere. He stood up and put his arms around her. His mind was a riptide of damage control battling the stirring of his passion for her. He smelled her hair, and felt her body.
"Dominika," he said, and the rushing in his ears started, the old danger signal.
"Will you break your rules again?" she asked. She saw his purple lust, it lit up the darkened room.
"I want you to violate your rules ... with me... not your agent, me" said Dominika. ~ Jason Matthews,#NFDB
1125:Like everyone we knew, we did what we could to protest the war. We signed, and we worked, and we brought our children with us to storefront offices to make calls and type letters. We used mimeographs, the purple ink getting all over us, the place smelling like a schoolroom, and we headed down to D.C. in a long, fossilized traffic jam of cars. The children cried in the backseat, and we pushed them on the Mall in strollers while they begged for juice, their faces blazing with heat, and Joe was among the writers who stood up and screamed into screechy, inadequate mikes. ~ Meg Wolitzer, #NFDB
1126:On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon; large, beefy and purple-faced, she even had a moustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog. ‘Where’s my Dudders?’ roared Aunt Marge. ‘Where’s my neffy poo?’ Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow-tie just visible under his many chins. Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1127:What I like about The Sims is that I don't have a normal life at all, so I play this game where these people have these really boring, mundane lives. It's fun. My Sims family is called the Cholly family. I don't know why I picked that name; it's kind of random. The teenage daughter is my favourite, because I just had her go through this Goth phase. She's really kind of nerdy and she just became a concert violinist, which is pretty huge for the family. And she got into private school. But she started wearing black lipstick and she dyed her hair purple. It's pretty huge. ~ Gerard Way, #NFDB
1128:1182
Wait Till The Majesty Of Death
171
Wait till the Majesty of Death
Invests so mean a brow!
Almost a powdered Footman
Might dare to touch it now!
Wait till in Everlasting Robes
That Democrat is dressed,
Then prate about "Preferment"—
And "Station," and the rest!
Around this quiet Courtier
Obsequious Angels wait!
Full royal is his Retinue!
Full purple is his state!
A Lord, might dare to lift the Hat
To such a Modest Clay
Since that My Lord, "the Lord of Lords"
Receives unblushingly!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1129:You're Beautiful
Like the green romance of a bud
and lily's pink, gentle sway.
You: more beautiful than yesterday.
Wildflower's blue surprise.
Daisy's white, sunny play.
You're more beautiful than yesterday.
Orchid's purple mystery
Mum's bronze ole`
You: more beautiful than yesterday.
Rose's orange perfume,
even tulip's yellow secrets say:
You're more beautiful that yesterday.
Poppy's red, teasing lips,
but YOUR beauty will never fade.
You: more lovely than yesterday,
You: my dazzling bouquet. ~ Pat Mora,#NFDB
1130:Check this out,” Nine says. He holds up a small purple stone and then places it on the back of his hand. The stone slides into his hand—through it. Nine turns his hand over just as the stone pops out in his palm. “Pretty cool, right?” he asks me, waggling his eyebrows.
“Uh, but what is it supposed to do?” Eight asks, looking up from his own Chest.
“I dunno. Impress girls?” Nine looks over at me. “Did it work?”
“Um . . .” I hesitate, trying not to roll my eyes too hard. “Not really. But, I’ve seen guys teleport so I’m kind of hard to impress.”
“Tough crowd. ~ Pittacus Lore,#NFDB
1131:For a ridiculous analogy, let's take Purple Rain. If you were to put Purple Rain and The Sound of Music on the desk of a producer, he or she would know that the majority of moviegoers would rather listen to Prince. Since they are in the business of making money, no one can blame them. But if it ever came to the decision of making a film like that I'd say, "No." They are very easy films to make, though. In Purple Rain there is nothing complex about the way that they dance. Or sing. It would be a bit boring for an adult to make that film. It just wouldn't test their métier. ~ Gene Kelly, #NFDB
1132:He could tell at once that they carried different sorts of bubble bath mixed with the water though it wasn't bubble bath as Harry had ever experienced. One tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of footballs; another poured ice-white foam so thick that Harry thought it would have supported his weight if he'd cared to test it; a third sent heavily perfumed purple clouds hovering over the surface of the water. Harry amused himself for a while turning the taps on and off, particularly enjoying the effect of one whose jet bounced off the surface of the water in large arcs. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1133:Well. Then we had the irises, rising beautiful and cool on their tall stalks, like blown glass, like pastel water momentarily frozen in a splash, light blue, light mauve, and the darker ones, velvet and purple, black cat's ears in the sun, indigo shadow, and the bleeding hearts, so female in shape it was a surprise they'd not long since been rooted out. There is something subversive about this garden of Serena's, a sense of buried things bursting upwards, wordlessly, into the light, as if to point, to say: Whatever is silenced will clamor to be heard, though silently. ~ Margaret Atwood, #NFDB
1134:Summer Streams
ALL day long beneath the sun
Shining through the fields they run,
Singing in a cadence known
To the seraphs round the throne.
And the traveller drawing near
Through the meadow, halts to hear
Anthems of a natural joy
No disaster can destroy.
All night long from set of sun
Through the starry woods they run,
Singing through the purple dark
Songs to make a traveller hark.
All night long, when winds are low,
Underneath my window go
The immortal happy streams,
Making music through my dreams.
~ Bliss William Carman,#NFDB
1135:If Charley hadn’t shaken and bounced and said “Ftt,” I might have forgotten that every night he gets two dog biscuits and a walk to clear his head. I put on clean clothes and went out with him into the star-raddled night. And the Aurora Borealis was out. I’ve seen it only a few times in my life. It hung and moved with majesty in folds like an infinite traveler upstage in an infinite theater. In colors of rose and lavender and purple it moved and pulsed against the night, and the frost-sharpened stars shone through it. What a thing to see at a time when I needed it so badly! ~ John Steinbeck, #NFDB
1136:Mulled-Wine Roasted Plums Prunes Rôties au Vin Chaud 3 pounds of purple Sugar Plum plums ½ cup full-bodied red wine 1 tablespoon raw cane sugar or light brown sugar 1 cinnamon stick 1 small vanilla bean or ½ of a large vanilla bean, split down the middle Preheat the oven to 350°F. Halve the plums and remove the pits. In a 9-by-13-inch casserole, combine plums and all the other ingredients. Roast for 35 to 45 minutes, until tender. Discard the cinnamon stick and vanilla bean. Serve warm or at room temperature with sour cream, yogurt, or lightly sweetened mascarpone. Serves 6 ~ Elizabeth Bard, #NFDB
1137:She was practically an invalid ever after I could remember her, but used what strength she had in lavish care upon me and my sister, who was three years younger. There was a touch of mysticism and poetry in her nature which made her love to gaze at the purple sunsets and watch the evening stars. Whatever was grand and beautiful in form and color attracted her. It seemed as though the rich green tints of the foliage and the blossoms of the flowers came for her in the springtime, and in the autumn it was for her that the mountain sides were struck with crimson and with gold. ~ Calvin Coolidge, #NFDB
1138:Countless candles dribbled with hot wax, and their flames, like little flags, fluttered in the unchartered currents of air. Thousands of lamps, naked, or shuttered behind coloured glass, burned with their glows of purple, amber, grass-green, blue, blood red and even grey. The walls of Gormenghast were like the walls of paradise or like the walls of an inferno. The colours were devilish or angelical according to the colour of the mind that watched them. They swam, those walls, with the hues of hell, with the tints of Zion. The breasts of the plumaged seraphim; the scales of Satan. ~ Mervyn Peake, #NFDB
1139:There, it’s the old ways and no mistake; there it’s only a corpse gone purple at the bottom and two coins no one will ever take back and the bread soaked through with sweat and your sins gleaming in every maggot, and sand under my eyelids and the wrappings still waiting and four jars lined up neatly with the faces watching, and my feet aching and my body going heavy everywhere and my throat too dry to swallow but my teeth gleaming wide, and the dark night all around us and a long walk home, and far off, silent, coming closer: wolves. The sounds for that, they’ve never put a name to. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1140:Unnoticed, the sun occupied his sky, and the shadows of the tree stems, extraordinarily solid, fell like trenches of purple across the frosted lawn. It was a glorious winter morning. Evie’s fox terrier, who had passed for white, was only a dirty grey dog now, so intense was the purity that surrounded him. He was discredited, but the blackbirds that he was chasing glowed with Arabian darkness, for all the conventional colouring of life had been altered. Inside, the clock struck ten with a rich and confident note. Other clocks confirmed it, and the discussion moved towards its close. ~ E M Forster, #NFDB
1141:Reality itself is steadily becoming more colored. Think of what factories were like, especially in Italy at the beginning of the 19th century, when industrialization was just beginning: gray, brown and smoky. Color didn't exist. Today, instead, most everything is colored. The pipe running from the basement to the 12th floor is green because it carries steam. The one carrying electricity is red, and that with water is purple. Also, plastic colors have filled our homes, even revolutionized our taste. Pop art grew out of that and was possible because of this change in taste. ~ Michelangelo Antonioni, #NFDB
1142:When the starry sky, a vista of open seas, or a stained-glass window shedding purple beams fascinate me, there is a cluster of meaning, of colors, of words, of caresses, there are light touches, scents, sighs, cadences that arise, shroud me, carry me away, and sweep me beyond the things I see, hear, or think, The "sublime" object dissolves in the raptures of a bottomless memory. It is such a memory, which, from stopping point to stopping point, remembrance to remembrance, love to love, transfers that object to the refulgent point of the dazzlement in which I stray in order to be. ~ Julia Kristeva, #NFDB
1143:O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa';
And I myself a drap o' dew,
Into her bonie breast to fa'!
O there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light! ~ Robert Burns,#NFDB
1144:Somewhere in the gluey Nyquil haze, the memory came of standing in the lake with Lise the week before, stomping their feet in the emerald thick of the water. On the shoreline were Skye’s hard-jeaned boys with their disappearing tattoos. They whistled at Lise, fingers hooked in their mouths. Let’s do it, Lise whispered in her ear, her tongue showing between her teeth. Let’s go in. When she woke up, in the purple of four a.m., she could still hear Lise’s voice in her ear, high as a little girl’s. We went behind those tall bushes. He took my tights off first. It was so cold, but his hands— ~ Megan Abbott, #NFDB
1145:The Church Of Unbent Knees
AS I went by the church to-day
I heard the organ cry;
And goodly folk were on their knees,
But I went striding by.
My
My
My
My
minister hath a roof more vast:
aisles are oak-trees high;
altar-cloth is on the hills,
organ is the sky.
I see my rood upon the clouds,
The winds, my chanted choir;
My crystal windows, heaven-glazed,
Are stained with sunset fire.
The stars, the thunder, and the rain,
White sands and purple seasThese are His pulpit and His pew,
My God of Unbent Knees!
~ Christopher Morley,#NFDB
1146:The Day Came Slow
The day came slow, till five o'clock,
Then sprang before the hills,
Like hindered rubies, or the light,
A sudden musket spills.
The purple could not keep the east.
The sunrise shook from fold.
Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,
The lady just unrolled.
The happy winds their timbrels took;
The birds in docile rows,
Arranged themselves around their prince.
(The wind is prince of those.)
The orchard sparkled like a Jew,--How mighty 'twas to stay,
A guest in this stupendous place,
The parlor of the day.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1147:Aunt Dove stepped behind her and looked at her reflection in the cheval glass. “You haven’t been to India, pet, but in the Nilgiri Hills, there’s a flower called a kurinji flower. It doesn’t bloom often. In fact, you can go a dozen years or more without seeing a single blossom. But then, just when you’ve given up hope of ever seeing one, they burst into flower, whole mountainsides at the same time, carpeted in the most astonishing shades of purple. It’s as if God himself shook out a rug of petals and spread it at your feet. It’s unexpected and magnificent, and very much worth the wait. ~ Deanna Raybourn, #NFDB
1148:Lucie rushed to Rotenberg, who was wheezing through a hole in his throat. She pressed her two palms over the wound. Her fingers instantly turned purple. “Hang on, Philip!” The man gripped Lucie’s wrists tightly. His eyes seemed to be preparing for death. Thick black smoke was pouring under the door. “On my neck…The key…Pull…” Lucie hesitated a split second, then did as told. She yanked on the thin chain at the end of which hung a small bit of metal. Blood had begun to foam from Rotenberg’s mouth. “What is this a key to?” The lawyer murmured something inaudible. A teardrop, then no more. ~ Franck Thilliez, #NFDB
1149:One night she got into an argument with one of the scientists about the recent discovery of a new planet called Uranus [...] 'What did he really do? The man spends his time stargazing, that's all. And now he's elected a fellow of the Royal Society! For nothing. You know, Sir Giles [...] Sir Giles identified the genus of the Purple Swamphen. Now that's a good reason to become a Fellow. This man just looks at the sky and notices a star. Bah!'
'But we need to map the night sky,' Harriet said. 'We have to understand our world. And stars are no different than wings on a butterfly, to me. ~ Eloisa James,#NFDB
1150:Nil sub sole novum, says Solomon; amor omnibus idem, says Virgil; and Carabine mounts with Carabin into the bark at Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles upon the fleet at Samos. One last word. Do you know what Aspasia was, ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher than the dawn. Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of womanhood met; she was the goddess prostitute; Socrates plus Manon Lescaut. Aspasia was created in case a mistress should be needed for Prometheus. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
1151:Percy and Reyna occupied matching praeters' chairs on the dais, which made Percy self-conscious. It wasn't easy looking dignified wearing a bedsheet and a purple cape. "The camp is safe," Octavian continued. " I'll be the first to congragulate our heroes for bringing back the legion's eagle and so much Imperial gold! Truly we have been blessed with good fortune. But why do more? Why tempt fate?" "I'm glad you asked." Percy stood, taking the question as an opening. Octavian stammered, " I wasn't--" "--Part of the quest," Percy said. "Yes I know. And your'e wise to let me explain, since I was. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
1152:Whatever is beautiful at all is beautiful in itself. Its beauty ends there, and praise has no part in it. Nothing is the better or the worse for being praised; and this holds also of what is beautiful in the common estimation: of material forms and works of art. Thus true beauty needs nothing beyond itself, any more than law, or truth, or kindness, or honour. For none of these gets a single grace from praise or one blot from censure. Does the emerald lose its virtue if one praise it not? Can one by scanting praise depreciate gold, ivory, or purple, a lyre or a dagger, a flower or a shrub? ~ Marcus Aurelius, #NFDB
1153:If you have lived in cities and have walked in the park on a summer afternoon, you have perhaps seen, blinking in a corner of his iron cage, a huge, grotesque kind of monkey, a creature with ugly, sagging, hairless skin below his eyes and a bright purple underbody. This monkey is a true monster. In the completeness of his ugliness he achieved a kind of perverted beauty. Children stopping before the cage are fascinated, men turn away with an air of disgust, and women linger for a moment, trying perhaps to remember which one of their male acquaintances the thing in some faint way resembles. ~ Sherwood Anderson, #NFDB
1154:My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a daïs of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me. ~ Christina Rossetti,#NFDB
1155:There, it’s the old ways and no mistake; there it’s only a corpse gone purple at the bottom and two coins no one will ever take back and the bread soaked through with sweat and your sins gleaming in every maggot, and sand under my eyelids and the wrappings still waiting and four jars lined up neatly with the faces watching, and my feet aching and my body going heavy everywhere and my throat too dry to swallow but my teeth gleaming wide, and the dark night all around us and a long walk home, and far off, silent, coming closer: wolves.
The sounds for that, they’ve never put a name to. ~ Genevieve Valentine,#NFDB
1156:Percy and Reyna occupied matching praeters' chairs on the dais, which made Percy self-conscious. It wasn't easy looking dignified wearing a bedsheet and a purple cape. "The camp is safe," Octavian continued. " I'll be the first to congragulate our heroes for bringing back the legion's eagle and so much Imperial gold! Truly we have been blessed with good fortune. But why do more? Why tempt fate?"
"I'm glad you asked." Percy stood, taking the question as an opening. Octavian stammered, " I wasn't--"
"--Part of the quest," Percy said. "Yes I know. And your'e wise to let me explain, since I was. ~ Rick Riordan,#NFDB
1157:Everything in any way beautiful has its beauty of itself, inherent and self-sufficient: praise is no part of it. At any rate, praise does not make anything better or worse. This applies even to the popular conception of beauty, as in material things or works of art. So does the truly beautiful need anything beyond itself? No more than law, no more than truth, no more than kindness or integrity. Which of these things derives its beauty from praise, or withers under criticism? Does an emerald lose its quality if it is not praised? And what of gold, ivory, purple, a lyre, a dagger, a flower, a bush? ~ Marcus Aurelius, #NFDB
1158:When Galen was first courting Jessamy,' Raphael said with a brush of his thumb over her nipple when their lips parted, 'he began to teach flight skills to the little ones. Over time, it has become a tradition—Galen is always the one who gives basic flight instruction to the babes, and some, like Izak, never stop training with him.'
The idea of Galen, with his wings akin to a northern harrier’s, leading a squadron of babies—not all of whom could fly exactly straight—had Elena shaking her head. 'I’m sorry, I need to see to believe this. It’s like you just told me the sky turns purple every Wednesday. ~ Nalini Singh,#NFDB
1159:My mind is like the valley—this vast barren waste. Car lots. Malls. Tract homes. I know there are other worlds beyond it—of canyons full of coyote and monarch butterflies, squirrels, bunnies, purple and yellow wildflowers, of magical boulevards lined with palatial movie theaters and movie-star haunted mansions, of parks and palms and palisades, especially, especially of the ocean, where it all ends and everything begins. I know the rest is out there but from where I sit in my head it’s like being on the bottom of a hot sunken pit—you can’t see anything else around you no matter how hard you try. ~ Francesca Lia Block, #NFDB
1160:So you were looking for a bathroom in the woods?”
“Well, yes.” She swallowed. “Sort of. But then I heard a splash and saw you…” Her cheeks were practically purple now.
I played dumb. “Saw me what?”
“Saw you naked, OK?” she blurted, throwing her hands up. “I admit it—I saw you naked.”
I had no hang-ups about nudity, but I was damn serious about my privacy, and about people sneaking up on me. But her embarrassment was funny. The two times I’d seen her before, she’d been so polished and poised. It felt good to put her in her place a little. “So you climbed a tree for a better view, is that it? ~ Melanie Harlow,#NFDB
1161:1021
The Sunrise Runs For Both
710
The Sunrise runs for Both—
The East—Her Purple Troth
Keeps with the Hill—
The Noon unwinds Her Blue
Till One Breadth cover Two—
Remotest—still—
Nor does the Night forget
A Lamp for Each—to set—
Wicks wide away—
The North—Her blazing Sign
Erects in Iodine—
Till Both—can see—
The Midnight's Dusky Arms
Clasp Hemispheres, and Homes
And so
Upon Her Bosom—One—
And One upon Her Hem—
Both lie—
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1162:THE HIDDEN PAINTING THE AMUSEMENT PARK MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE MIXED-UP ZOO THE CAMP-OUT MYSTERY THE MYSTERY GIRL THE MYSTERY CRUISE THE DISAPPEARING FRIEND MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE SINGING GHOST MYSTERY IN THE SNOW THE PIZZA MYSTERY THE MYSTERY HORSE THE MYSTERY AT THE DOG SHOW THE CASTLE MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST VILLAGE THE MYSTERY ON THE ICE THE MYSTERY OF THE PURPLE POOL THE GHOST SHIP MYSTERY THE MYSTERY IN WASHINGTON, DC THE CANOE TRIP MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE HIDDEN BEACH THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING CAT THE MYSTERY AT SNOWFLAKE INN THE MYSTERY ON STAGE THE DINOSAUR MYSTERY T ~ Gertrude Chandler Warner, #NFDB
1163:There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate.
The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"
And the lily whispers, "I wait."
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red. ~ Alfred Tennyson,#NFDB
1164:To The Dannebrog
(When Dybbol was captured)
Dannebrog of old was seeming
Snow-white, rosy red,
Through the mists of ages beaming,
Heaven's gift outspread,
Rich as fruits of Denmark's planting,
Grand as song of heroes chanting,
Spirit-winged to deeds of daring
O'er the wide world faring.
Dannebrog, thou now art seeming
Death-pale, bloody red,
Like a dying sea-gull gleaming
White with blood o'erspread.
Purple tides the wounds are showing
From thy faith in justice flowing;
Denmark, bear the cross, thy burden
Honor is thy guerdon!
~ Bjornstjerne Bjornson,#NFDB
1165:She Bore It Till The Simple Veins
144
She bore it till the simple veins
Traced azure on her hand—
Til pleading, round her quiet eyes
The purple Crayons stand.
Till Daffodils had come and gone
I cannot tell the sum,
And then she ceased to bear it—
And with the Saints sat down.
No more her patient figure
At twilight soft to meet—
No more her timid bonnet
Upon the village street—
But Crowns instead, and Courtiers—
And in the midst so fair,
Whose but her shy—immortal face
Of whom we're whispering here?
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1166:lave v. [trans.] POETIC/LITERARY wash: she ran cold water in the basin, laving her face and hands. (of water) wash against or over (something): the sea below laved the shore with small, agitated waves. la·va·tion n. Old English lafian, from Latin lavare 'to wash'; reinforced in Middle English by Old French laver. lav·en·der n. 1 a small aromatic evergreen shrub of the mint family, with narrow leaves and bluish-purple flowers. Lavender has been widely used in perfumery and medicine since ancient times. Genus Lavandula, family Labiatae. - the flowers and stalks of such a shrub dried and used to give a pleasant ~ Erin McKean, #NFDB
1167:Obscur Et Fronce
Dark, wrinkled as a purple pink,
It breathes, it nestles in that bed of moss,
Still damp from love, which hugs the slope,
The white thighs' slope, to crater's heart.
Threads, gossamer, milky tears
Wept, wept, in scouring wind
That drove them on clots of scarlet scree
Till they tumbled on the edge, were gone.
My dreams touch kisses, kisses to the gate.
Soul envies couplings of the flesh,
Its tear-bottle this, its nest of sobs.
Ecstatic olive! Seductive flute!
Throat sucking almond-sweet sublime!
Moss-circled, female, promised land!
~ Arthur Rimbaud,#NFDB
1168:Sprays of blue and purple wildflowers grew along the bank, and as she ran past them Ella marked their beauty, thinking what a strange thing it was for her to notice them in such detail at this moment. She did not know who ran in front of her or behind her, but she was aware that the dirt had blackened and hardened, and she discovered that she ran through the first rows of a cotton field, the bolls exploding in white puffs all around here. There were more gunshots behind her, and she wanted to drop to her knees and take shelter, but the field was open and the cotton plants low, and there was nowhere else to go. ~ Wiley Cash, #NFDB
1169:The Lost Lagoon
It is dusk on the Lost Lagoon,
And we two dreaming the dusk away,
Beneath the drift of a twilight grey,
Beneath the drowse of an ending day,
And the curve of a golden moon.
It is dark in the Lost Lagoon,
And gone are the depths of haunting blue,
The grouping gulls, and the old canoe,
The singing firs, and the dusk and--you,
And gone is the golden moon.
O! lure of the Lost Lagoon,-I dream to-night that my paddle blurs
The purple shade where the seaweed stirs,
I hear the call of the singing firs
In the hush of the golden moon.
~ Emily Pauline Johnson,#NFDB
1170:Kit Carson, fighting the Indians with knives and six-shooters. Brave men. But that’s all gone now. Now, some pencil-neck geek sitting at a computer can launch a thousand missiles and kill a million people. The world’s run by a bunch of fat-ass wimps who only know how to double-click their way to power. Think they should get a Purple Heart for a paper cut.” “I like that.” “Their idea of power is PowerPoint. They got headsets on their heads and their fingers on keyboards and they think they’re macho men when they’re just half wimp and half machine. Nothing more than sports-drink-gulping, instant-message-sending, ~ Joseph Finder, #NFDB
1171:Song Of The Rose
THE lilac-time is over,
Laburnum's day is past,
The red may-blossoms cover
The white ones, fallen too fast.
And guelder-roses hang like snow,
Where purple flag-flowers grow.
And still the tulip lingers,
The wall-flower's red like blood
The ivy spreads pale fingers,
The rose is in the bud.
Good-bye, sweet lilac, and sweet may!
The Rose is on the way.
You were but heralds sent us-All April's buds, and May's-But painted missals lent us
That we might learn her praise,
Might cast down every bud that blows
Before our Queen, the Rose!
~ Edith Nesbit,#NFDB
1172:Acres of spice-covered almonds, blackberry and lavender honey, chocolate-covered cherries, their young saleswoman reaching forward with samples, her low-cut shirt selling more than fruit. The seafood shop, crabs lined up like a medieval armory, fish swimming through a sea of ice. Her ultimate goal was at the end of the aisle- a produce stand staffed by an elderly man who, some people joked, had been at the market since its beginning a hundred years before. George's offerings were the definition of freshness, corn kernels pillowing out of their husks, Japanese eggplant arranged like deep purple parentheses. ~ Erica Bauermeister, #NFDB
1173:As she reached the stairs, she made a quick detour and stepped outside.
A crescent moon hung in the midnight blue sky along with trillions of twinkling stars. Out here there were no streetlights to wash out the view. She loved being able to see the stars.
Tonight, the mountains were etched deep purple against the night sky. The white snowcapped tips gleamed silver. Nearer, silhouetted pine trees swayed in the breeze as if in a slow dance.
“You are such a romantic,” Trask had once told her. “Are you sure you want to open a bar? You should be writing poetry.”
She’d laughed. “How do you know I don’t? ~ B J Daniels,#NFDB
1174:La·ver Rod (1938- ), Australian tennis player; full name Rodney George Laver. In 1962, he won the four major singles championships (British, American, French, and Australian) in one year, called the "Grand Slam,” a feat he repeated in 1969. la·ver 1 (also purple laver) n. an edible seaweed with thin sheetlike fronds of a reddish-purple and green color that becomes black when dry. Laver typically grows on exposed shores, but in Japan it is cultivated in estuaries. Porphyra umbilicaulis, division Rhodophyta. late Old English (as the name of a water plant mentioned by Pliny), from Latin. The current sense dates from ~ Erin McKean, #NFDB
1175:Of course the people in the metro didn't see a thing!...what a joke! petrified ratlets! but they'll still come out to refute me! make claims!...that nothing got bombed!...squished! powdered! that the firmament was calm, and me, I imagined the whole thing! chrysanthemums, sprays, roses! why, there's no more any such thing as sky-hooking shrapnel than there is anal ice cream! it's all in my mind! hallucinations and bullshit! what a crook! but I repeat and reassert! shrapnel and fiery lace stretched from one end of the horizon to the other! with lots of glow-worms mixed in...and dancing purple fireflies... ~ Louis Ferdinand C line, #NFDB
1176:Then she heard a masculine chuckle behind her.
Bridget froze, ice sliding down her spine. The sound could be nothing else, not the wind or a creaky house or even a mouse in the walls.
She turned, pushing the panel shut with her shoulder, and palming the portrait as she did so.
The Duke of Montgomery, all golden hair and sharp blue eyes, and wearing a purple velvet suit, smiled at her from the armchair in the far corner of the room.
"A lovely woman in my bed, what a fetching surprise." He cocked his head, a corner of his beautiful mouth curving cruelly. "Tell me, Mrs. Crumb, what are you looking for? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,#NFDB
1177:You’re not making sense,” said Nate. He took her hand, and his purple halo pulsed. “This is hard enough. If you keep working, okay, you’re maybe the best agent in the history of Russian ops. But if you’re blown and they kill you, it’s all for nothing. No, Domi, if you have to bug out and resettle, then you clear your head and come out.”
“It is not that easy, ‘just come out,’ ” said Dominika.
“I’m just worried about how this is developing,” said Nate. The aura around his head told her he was concerned.
“Please pay the bill,” said Dominika. The argument would come later; right now it hovered between them. ~ Jason Matthews,#NFDB
1178:Aurum, argentum, gemmae, purpurea vestis, marmorea domus, cultus ager, pietae tabulae, phaleratus sonipes, caeteraque id genus mutam habent et superficiariam voluptatem: libri medullitus delectant, colloquuntur, consulunt, et viva quadam nobis atque arguta familiaritate junguntur.
Gold, silver, jewels, purple garments, houses built of marble, groomed estates, pious paintings, caparisoned steeds, and other things of this kind offer a mutable and superficial pleasure; books give delight to the very marrow of one’s bones. They speak to us, consult with us, and join with us in a living and intense intimacy. ~ Francesco Petrarca,#NFDB
1179:Have you ever considered how many living things there are on earth?" Cleo asked. "People. Animals. Birds. Fish. Trees. It makes you wonder how anyone could feel lonely. Yet humans do. It's a shame."
She looked to the sky, now a deep shade of purple. "We fear loneliness, Annie, but loneliness itself does not exist. It has no form. it is merely a shadow that falls over us. And just as shadows die when light changes, that sad feeling can depart once we see the truth."
"What's the truth?" Annie asked.
"That the end of loneliness is when someone needs you." The old woman smiled. "And the world is so full of need. ~ Mitch Albom,#NFDB
1180:The Corn Husker
Hard by the Indian lodges, where the bush
Breaks in a clearing, through ill-fashioned fields,
She comes to labour, when the first still hush
Of autumn follows large and recent yields.
Age in her fingers, hunger in her face,
Her shoulders stooped with weight of work and years,
But rich in tawny colouring of her race,
She comes a-field to strip the purple ears.
And all her thoughts are with the days gone by,
Ere might's injustice banished from their lands
Her people, that to-day unheeded lie,
Like the dead husks that rustle through her hands.
~ Emily Pauline Johnson,#NFDB
1181:To shrug off all duties, even those not assigned to us, to repudiate all homes, even those that weren't ours, to live off vestiges and the ill-defined, in grand purple robes of madness and in counterfeit laces of dreamed majesties... To be something, anything, that doesn't feel the weight of the rain outside, nor the anguish of inner emptiness... To wander without thought or soul - sensation without sensation - along mountain roads and through valleys hidden between steep slopes, into the far distance, irrevocably immersed... To be lost in landscapes like paintings... A coloured non-existence in the background... ~ Fernando Pessoa, #NFDB
1182:I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core. ~ W B Yeats, #NFDB
1183:Life is too short to judge others. It is not our job to tell someone what they feel or who they are. Why not spend some time on yourself instead? I don't know you, but I can guarantee you have some issues you can work on. And maybe you've got a fit body and a perfect face, but I'll wager you've got insecurities too, ones that would keep you from stripping down to a purple bikini and modeling it in front of everyone.
As for the rest of you, remember this. YOU ARE WANTED. Big, small, tall, short, pretty, plain, friendly, shy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise not even yourself.
Especially not yourself. ~ Jennifer Niven,#NFDB
1184:We Eat Out Together
My heart is a fancy place
Where giant reddish-purple cauliflowers
& white ones in French & English are outside
Waiting to welcome you to a boat
Over the low black river for a big dinner
There's alot of choice among the foods
Even a tortured lamb served in pieces
En croute on a plate so hot as a rack
Of clouds blown over the cold filthy river
We are entitled to see anytime while we
Use the tablecovers to love each other
Publicly dishing out imitative luxuries
To show off poetry's extreme generosity
Then home in the heart of a big limousine
~ Bernadette Mayer,#NFDB
1185:And when wine has soaked Cupid’s drunken wings,
he’s stayed, weighed down, a captive of the place.
...
Wine rouses courage and is fit for passion:
care flies, and deep drinking dilutes it.
...
Don’t trust the treacherous lamplight overmuch:
night and wine can harm your view of beauty.
Paris saw the goddesses in the light, a cloudless heaven,
when he said to Venus: ‘Venus, you win, over them both.’
Faults are hidden at night: every blemish is forgiven,
and the hour makes whichever girl you like beautiful.
Judge jewellery, and fabric stained with purple,
judge a face, or a figure, in the light. ~ Ovid,#NFDB
1186:Peacock Display
He approaches her, trailing his whole fortune,
Perfectly cocksure, and suddenly spreads
The huge fan of his tail for her amazement.
Each turquoise and purple, black-horned, walleyed quill
Comes quivering forward, an amphitheatric shell
For his most fortunate audience: her alone.
He plumes himself. He shakes his brassily gold
Wings and rump in a dance, lifting his claws
Stiff-legged under the great bulge of his breast.
And she strolls calmly away, pecking and pausing,
Not watching him, astonished to discover
All these seeds spread just for her in the dirt.
~ David Wagoner,#NFDB
1187:Baby Witch
Baby-witch,
my daughter,
my worship of the Goddess
alone
condemns you to the fire. . .
I blow upon
your least fingernail
& it flares cyclamen & rose.
I suck flames from your ears.
I touch your perfect nostrils
& they, too, flame gently
like that pale rose
called 'sweetheart'.
Your eyelids are tender purple
like the base of the flame
before it blues.
O child of fire,
O tiny devotee of the GoddessI wished for you
to be born a daughter
though we know
that daughters
cannot but be
born for burning
like the fatal
tree.
~ Erica Jong,#NFDB
1188:Down the street, tree branches strung in purple Halloween lights began to shudder and sway. Dusty whirlwinds rose from the ground, and from the north came a great rush of wind.
From Congo Square, she thought. Where the slaves danced and sang.
"...and St. Louis Cemetery," whispered in her ear.
The wind blew as cold as the icy breath of Lake Superior. Blowing veins seizured round the wrought iron gate. Yet the music continued. The only one oblivious to the sudden shift in the air--as if she were expecting it--was Angelique, who continued her dance, face to the sky. As though nothing had changed, though everything had. ~ Eve Wallinga,#NFDB
1189:Something sharp grazes her face. She stops and touches her scraped cheek. The culprit floats in front of her, purple-pink, the colors of a fiveyear-old's crazed sketch. Escaping from a metal cage in the sidewalk near her feet is a thing twice her height and half again as wide as her extended arms. A single stout upward path splits into a few thinner ones, and those divide into thousands more, thinner still, each one tentative, forked, full of scars, bent by history, and tipped out in insane flowers. The sight takes root in her, ramifying, and for a moment longer she remembers: her life has been as wild as a plum in spring. ~ Richard Powers, #NFDB
1190:Bloom Upon The Mountain—stated
667
Bloom upon the Mountain—stated—
Blameless of a Name—
Efflorescence of a Sunset—
Reproduced—the same—
Seed, had I, my Purple Sowing
Should endow the Day—
Not a Topic of a Twilight—
Show itself away—
Who for tilling—to the Mountain
Come, and disappear—
Whose be Her Renown, or fading,
Witness, is not here—
While I state—the Solemn Petals,
Far as North—and East,
Far as South and West—expanding—
Culminate—in Rest—
And the Mountain to the Evening
Fit His Countenance—
Indicating, by no Muscle—
The Experience—
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1191:They preferred writing about great men to writing about great hills; but they sat on the great hills to write it. They gave out much less about Nature, but they drank in, perhaps, much more. They painted the white robes of their holy virgins with the blinding snow, at which they had stared all day. They blazoned the shields of their paladins with the purple and gold of many heraldic sunsets. The greenness of a thousand green leaves clustered into the live green figure of Robin Hood. The blueness of a score of forgotten skies became the blue robes of the Virgin. The inspiration went in like sunbeams and came out like Apollo. ~ G K Chesterton, #NFDB
1192:When her gaze met his, her irises were luminous, pooling bright silvery purple, a definitely inhuman glow.
He’d awoken the beast in her.
Good.
“What are you?” she whispered.
Jesse took a step back to clear his head, to free himself from the tendrils of her sorcery. It’d be easier for both of them if he could think straight.
Right. He needed to focus. He’d waited his lifetime for this moment, but, even so, the words came with difficulty.
It was never painless to bare a soul.
“I am both less than you and more,” he said. “An alchemist, an amalgamation of two opposite realms. I’m the fabric of the stars. ~ Shana Abe,#NFDB
1193:Best friends forever. They’d believed it would last, that vow, that someday they’d be old women, sitting in their rocking chairs on a creaking deck, talking about the times of their lives, and laughing. Now she knew better, of course. For more than a year she’d been telling herself it was okay, that she could go on without a best friend. Sometimes she even believed it. Then she would hear the music. Their music. “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.” “Material Girl.” “Bohemian Rhapsody.” “Purple Rain.” Yesterday, while she’d been shopping, a bad Muzak version of “You’ve Got a Friend” had made her cry, right there next to the radishes. ~ Kristin Hannah, #NFDB
1194:The Day Undressed&Mdash;Herself
716
The Day undressed—Herself—
Her Garter—was of Gold—
Her Petticoat—of Purple plain—
Her Dimities—as old
Exactly—as the World—
And yet the newest Star—
Enrolled upon the Hemisphere
Be wrinkled—much as Her—
Too near to God—to pray—
Too near to Heaven—to fear—
The Lady of the Occident
Retired without a care—
Her Candle so expire
The flickering be seen
On Ball of Mast in Bosporus—
And Dome—and Window Pane—
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1195:In Death Valley
There came gray stretches of volcanic plains,
Bare, lone and treeless, then a bleak lone hill
Like to the dolorous hill that Dobell saw.
Around were heaps of ruins piled between
The Burn o’ Sorrow and the Water o’ Care;
And from the stillness of the down-crushed walls
One pillar rose up dark against the moon.
There was a nameless Presence everywhere;
In the gray soil there was a purple stain,
And the gray reticent rocks were dyed with blood—
Blood of a vast unknown Calamity.
It was the mark of some ancestral grief—
Grief that began before the ancient Flood.
~ Edwin Markham,#NFDB
1196:A Birthday
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,#NFDB
1197:You’re going to wear that?” Jackson lifted his chin, indicating my outfit. I glanced down at myself. Seeing nothing wrong with my blue jeans, hiking boots, and long-sleeved purple Henley with the top four buttons undone. I returned Jackson’s scowl with a frown. “And what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” “Your shirt is half undone, your boobs are busting out, and those jeans are awfully tight.” I crossed my arms under my chest and glared at my brother. “Are you calling me fat?” “No. I’m saying that outfit doesn’t leave much to the imagination. I don’t want that Winston boy getting ideas.” Meanwhile, I wanted Duane to get lots of ideas. ~ Penny Reid, #NFDB
1198:After her sister's visit, Marthe's head was brimming with new pictures: the fields of lavender at Valensole, all the subtle grades of blue and purple; the way twilight melted them all into one; the precise hues of the liquid distilled from each plant, the shape and color of the bottles, and a new understanding of the surroundings where she was learning her craft. Just as plant variations were bred together to crete new hybrids- like the lavandin from the delicate wild lavender- this was what she did with the descriptions her sister had supplied; she grafted them on to the sights she remembered from childhood and reinvigorated them. ~ Deborah Lawrenson, #NFDB
1199:Graves
I dreamed one man stood against a thousand,
One man damned as a wrongheaded fool.
One year and another he walked the streets,
And a thousand shrugs and hoots
Met him in the shoulders and mouths he passed.
He died alone.
And only the undertaker came to his funeral.
Flowers grow over his grave anod in the wind,
And over the graves of the thousand, too,
The flowers grow anod in the wind.
Flowers and the wind,
Flowers anod over the graves of the dead,
Petals of red, leaves of yellow, streaks of white,
Masses of purple sagging…
I love you and your great way of forgetting.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1200:Jennie M'Grew
Not, where the stairway turns in the dark,
A hooded figure, shriveled under a flowing cloak!
Not yellow eyes in the room at night,
Staring out from a surface of cobweb gray!
And not the flap of a condor wing,
When the roar of life in your ears begins
As a sound heard never before!
But on a sunny afternoon,
By a country road,
Where purple rag-weeds bloom along a straggling fence,
And the field is gleaned, and the air is still,
To see against the sun-light something black,
Like a blot with an iris rim -That is the sign to eyes of second sight....
And that I saw!
~ Edgar Lee Masters,#NFDB
1201:The moment he leaves, the bees are back. Buzzing. I breathe in and feel their tiny feet in my bronchi. Buzz. Wings beeting in my alveoli. Flutterbuzz.
[...]
Flutterflutterzzzzzzzzbuzzzzzz. I have to do something to make it stop. I have to feel something simple. This-- flutterflutterflutterbuzzzzz-- is too complicated. Too confusing. I want to feel something about which there can be no argument or debate. Soemthing about which everything will be known. Here. Now. Something that will make all the rest stop.
There is an exquisite and audible pop when the hooked tip of the center tine in the fish fork punctures the fat purple vein. ~ Juliann Garey,#NFDB
1202:Rachel Renée Russell is an attorney who prefers writing tween books to legal briefs. (Mainly because books are a lot more fun and pajamas and bunny slippers aren’t allowed in court.) She has raised two daughters and lived to tell about it. Her hobbies include growing purple flowers and doing totally useless crafts (like, for example, making a microwave oven out of Popsicle sticks, glue, and glitter). Rachel lives in northern Virginia with a spoiled pet Yorkie who terrorizes her daily by climbing on top of a computer cabinet and pelting her with stuffed animals while she writes. And, yes, Rachel considers herself a total Dork. Visit ~ Rachel Ren e Russell, #NFDB
1203:Sonnet- To Zante
Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers,
Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take!
How many memories of what radiant hours
At sight of thee and thine at once awake!
How many scenes of what departed bliss!
How many thoughts of what entombed hopes!
How many visions of a maiden that is
No more- no more upon thy verdant slopes!
No more! alas, that magical sad sound
Transforming all! Thy charms shall please no moreThy memory no more! Accursed ground
Henceforth I hold thy flower-enameled shore,
O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante!
"Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"
~ Edgar Allan Poe,#NFDB
1204:That girl feels like a different girl, someone from a lifetime ago, not anyone who has anything to do with the me I am now. Except that I know I wouldn't be me without her. I wouldn't be Libby Strout, high school junior, with my very own group of friends. I wouldn't have danced or twirled or tried out for the Damsels. I wouldn't have stood up for myself or worn my purple bikini. I wouldn't have gone to Bloomington or Clara's with a boy I liked. Really liked. I wouldn't have had my heart broken because I would have been too afraid. And even though the ache of that heartbreak hurts like hell, it's so much better than feeling nothing. ~ Jennifer Niven, #NFDB
1205:The Park
The prosperous and beautiful
To me seem not to wear
The yoke of conscience masterful,
Which galls me everywhere.
I cannot shake off the god;
On my neck he makes his seat;
I look at my face in the glass,
My eyes his eye-balls meet.
Enchanters! enchantresses!
Your gold makes you seem wise:
The morning mist within your grounds
More proudly rolls, more softly lies.
Yet spake yon purple mountain,
Yet said yon ancient wood,
That night or day, that love or crime
Lead all souls to the Good.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Park
,#NFDB
1206:lady in red but if you’ve been seen in public wit him danced one dance kissed him good-bye lightly lady in purple wit closed mouth lady in blue pressin charges will be as hard as keepin yr legs closed while five fools try to run a train on you lady in red these men friends of ours who smile nice stay employed and take us out to dinner lady in purple lock the door behind you lady in blue wit fist in face to fuck lady in red who make elaborate mediterranean dinners & let the art ensemble carry all ethical burdens while they invite a coupla friends over to have you are sufferin from latent rapist bravado & we are left wit the scars lady ~ Ntozake Shange, #NFDB
1207:Stolen Moments"
What happened, happened once. So now it’s best
in memory—an orange he sliced: the skin
unbroken, then the knife, the chilled wedge
lifted to my mouth, his mouth, the thin
membrane between us, the exquisite orange,
tongue, orange, my nakedness and his,
the way he pushed me up against the fridge—
Now I get to feel his hands again, the kiss
that didn’t last, but sent some neural twin
flashing wildly through the cortex. Love’s
merciless, the way it travels in
and keeps emitting light. Beside the stove
we ate an orange. And there were purple flowers
on the table. And we still had hours. ~ Kim Addonizio,#NFDB
1208:Stolen Moments”
What happened, happened once. So now it’s best
in memory—an orange he sliced: the skin
unbroken, then the knife, the chilled wedge
lifted to my mouth, his mouth, the thin
membrane between us, the exquisite orange,
tongue, orange, my nakedness and his,
the way he pushed me up against the fridge—
Now I get to feel his hands again, the kiss
that didn’t last, but sent some neural twin
flashing wildly through the cortex. Love’s
merciless, the way it travels in
and keeps emitting light. Beside the stove
we ate an orange. And there were purple flowers
on the table. And we still had hours. ~ Kim Addonizio,#NFDB
1209:When your three-year-old erupts in anger because there are no orange Popsicles left in the freezer, his downstairs brain, including the brain stem and amygdala, has sprung into action and latched the baby gate. This primitive part of his brain has received an intense surge of energy, leaving him literally unable to act calmly and reasonably. Massive brain resources have rushed to his downstairs brain, leaving little to power his upstairs brain. As a result, no matter how many times you tell him that you have plenty of purple Popsicles (which he liked better than orange last time anyway), he’s probably not going to listen to reason in this moment. ~ Daniel J Siegel, #NFDB
1210:And, ah! his castle. The faery solitude of the place, with its turrets of mistly blue, its courtyard, its spiked gate, his castle that lay on the very bosom of the sea with seabirds mewing about its attics, the casements opening onto the green and purple, evanescent departures of the ocean, cut off by the tide from land for half a day . . . that castle, at home neither on the land nor on the water, a mysterious, amphibious place, contravening the materiality of both earth and waves, with the melancholy of a mermaiden who perches on her rocks and waits, endlessly, for a lover who had drowned far away, long ago. That lovely, sad, sea-siren of a place. ~ Angela Carter, #NFDB
1211:My youthful dreams of the future were born from the gentle sadness of those evenings, far removed from the rest of life, when you lie in the grass beside the remains of someone else’s campfire, with your bicycle beside you, watching the purple stripes left in the western sky by the sun that has just set, and you can see the first stars in the east. I hadn’t seen or experienced very much, but I liked lots of things, and I thought that a flight to the moon would take in and make up for all the things I had passed by, in hopes of catching up with them later; how could I know that you only ever see the best things in life out of the corner of your eye? ~ Victor Pelevin, #NFDB
1212:If you are in difficulties with a book,” suggested H. G. Wells, “try the element of surprise: attack it at an hour when it isn’t expecting it.” This was one way Gail Godwin learned to outfox her “watcher” (the inner critic who kept an eye on her as she worked): looking for times to write when she was off guard. Other tactics Godwin found helpful included writing too fast and in unexpected places and times; working when tired; writing in purple ink on the back of charge card statements; and jotting down whatever came to mind while a tea kettle boiled, using its whistle as a deadline. “Deadlines are a great way to outdistance the watcher,” advised Godwin. ~ Ralph Keyes, #NFDB
1213:Viii
What can I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold
And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,
And laid them on the outside of the-wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In unexpected largesse ? am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all ?
Not so; not cold,--but very poor instead.
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run
The colors from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther ! let it serve to trample on.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1214:When I hurt, and I hurt often, I raced for the music, the costumes, the ballet shoes on which I could spin and twirl and dance away my troubles. 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. ~ V C Andrews, #NFDB
1215:He’s supposed to look out for you.”
“I do!” Kieran sounded offended. “You should be proud of her. Hart requested her presence personally at the Drake coronation.”
I closed my eyes briefly. We were doomed.
“You went to a vampire ceremony?” Grandpa asked evenly.
“He didn’t know?” Kieran asked.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Sorry.”
Grandpa vibrated with rage. “I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my family!”
“It’s different now,” Kieran tried to assuage him. “I’m dating Solange Drake. They’re a good family.”
Grandpa went red, then purple. Kieran took a step back. I whacked Grandpa between the shoulder blades.
“Grandpa, breathe! ~ Alyxandra Harvey,#NFDB
1216:I don’t have black lace underwear and a matching garter belt,” I told Lee.
Eddie leaned back and chuckled again. Lee’s face didn’t change.
“I have red lace underwear and a matching garter belt,” I said.
This was true, I did.
Eddie quit chuckling.
“And black satin underwear and a garter belt. And then there’s my purple teddy thing with attached garters.” I paused. “I’ll model them all and you can choose.”
I looked at Eddie out of the corner of my eye and the smile was gone.
Then I sat back.
My work was done.
Lee granted me A Smile. It was small but it was meaningful.
“You’ve always been a lucky fuck,” Eddie murmured to Lee. ~ Kristen Ashley,#NFDB
1217:I looked at the things again. Screwdriver, purple toothbrush, map. I thought about how Leo had helped me get a job and how he let us watch Times of Our Seasons at his house every day and how he listened whenever I talked about Ben and my dad but also didn’t expect me to talk about Ben or my dad and how Leo always shared the lollipops from the bank with me. (And now I’d given him one back.) How he’d shown me The Tempest with Lisette Chamberlain as Miranda. How he’d completely understood when I’d cried after I’d seen it.
And a thought came to my mind. Even though I’d only known him for part of a summer.
Leo Bishop might be the best friend I’d ever had. ~ Ally Condie,#NFDB
1218:Returning home to the postwar housing shortage, Weinstein took out a $600,000 loan, built an apartment complex in Atlanta, and offered the 140 family units to veterans at rents averaging less than $50 per month. “Priorities: 1) Ex-POWs; 2) Purple Heart Vets; 3) Overseas Vets; 4) Vets; 5) Civilians,” read his ad. “… We prefer Ex-GI’s, and Marines and enlisted personnel of the Navy. Ex–Air Corps men may apply if they quit telling us how they won the war.” His rule banning KKK members drew threatening phone calls. “I gave them my office and my home address,” Weinstein said, “and told them I still had the .45 I used to shoot carabau [water buffalo] with. ~ Laura Hillenbrand, #NFDB
1219:Farewell To Italy
Incomparable Italy, farewell!
Tears not unmanly trespass to the eyes,
From thy soft touch and glance unspeakable
Compelled to turn and suffer other skies.
E'en as I leave thee, the maternal vine
Under the weight of clustering fruitage bends;
And the plump fig, beyond where tendrils twine,
Shows greener, moister, as the sap ascends.
When I return, as I most surely will,
Me will salute the thirst-dispelling grape,
Purple or opal, and when noon is still,
The snow-cold fruit provoke permitted rape.
Even, dear land, flourish thy fortunes so,
Which, formed, need only interval to grow.
~ Alfred Austin,#NFDB
1220:These mountains: blackness, silence, and snow.
The red hunter climbs down from the forest;
Oh the mossy gaze of the wild thing.
The peace of the mother: under black firs
The sleeping hands open by themselves
When the cold moon seems ready to fall.
The birth of man. Each night
Blue water washes over the rockbase of the cliff;
The fallen angel stares at his reflection with sighs,
Something pale wakes up in a suffocating room.
The eyes
Of the stony old woman shine, two moons.
The cry of the woman in labor. The night troubles
The boy’s sleep with black wings,
With snow, which falls with ease out of the purple
clouds. ~ Georg Trakl,#NFDB
1221:We ought, then, to set up images of a kind that can adhere longest in memory. And we shall do so if we establish similitudes as striking as possible; if we set up images that are not many or vague but active; if we assign to them exceptional beauty or singular ugliness; if we ornament some of them, as with crowns or purple cloaks, so that the similitude may be more distinct to us; or if we somehow disfigure them, as by introducing one stained with blood or soiled with mud and smeared with red paint, so that its form is more striking, or by assigning certain comic effects to our images, for that, too, will ensure our remembering them more readily. ~ Rhetorica Ad Herrenium, #NFDB
1222:Arms and legs thrashing. The hammer of blood.
I’m coming, says Jude.
And holds her breath. Orgasm is brief, nonviolent.
What color? I say
Devastating blue, she says. The pale blue eyes of a murdered boy.
Very nice.
You remembered, she says.
Jude comes in colors. How could I forget. Trembling blond orgasms that seem to piss her off and rare pink orgasms that never end. Chemical red orgasms that fill her with guilt and perfect orgasms black as fresh earth. Orgasms shadowy and gray that may or may not cause her to weep and orgasms the color of bruised skin, orgasms that fade from purple to yellow and remain visible for days. ~ Will Christopher Baer,#NFDB
1223:And so on this rainbow day, with storms all around them, and blue sky above, they rode only as far as the valley. But from there, before they turned to go back, the monuments appeared close, and they loomed grandly with the background of purple bank and creamy cloud and shafts of golden lightning. They seemed like sentinels — guardians of a great and beautiful love born under their lofty heights, in the lonely silence of day, in the star-thrown shadow of night. They were like that love. And they held Lucy and Slone, calling every day, giving a nameless and tranquil content, binding them true to love, true to the sage and the open, true to that wild upland home. ~ Zane Grey, #NFDB
1224:Sonnet Viii
What can I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold
And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,
And laid them on the outside of the-wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In unexpected largesse ? am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all ?
Not so; not cold,--but very poor instead.
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run
The colors from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther ! let it serve to trample on.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1225:Depending on the places we passed, the night around us shaded from ink black to red to purple to a washed-out yellow that hung like gauze in front of the dark, like you could see the dark sitting under the light, and then it would be back to ink black, and the air would change smells from sea salt to pine pulp to ammonia and burning oil. Trees and marshland crowded us and we passed over the Atchafalaya Basin, a long bridge suspended over a liquid murk, and I thought about the dense congestion of vines and forest when I was a kid, how the green and leafy things had seemed so full of shadows, and how it had felt like half the world was hidden in those shadows. ~ Nic Pizzolatto, #NFDB
1226:MAY IN MINNEAPOLIS IS LILAC TIME. AS IF TO COMPENSATE for the punitive winter, the city explodes with flowers overnight—making it, if only for a week or two, one of the most beautiful places on earth. First there are sunny starbursts of forsythia; then the cherry and dogwood trees burst into life, showering petals everywhere, pink and cream, drifting thick as snow on the sidewalks. But it is the lilacs that truly herald the coming of spring: lavender and white and blue and sometimes a purple deep as grapes, they bloom in the alleys and over backyard fences and in graveyards. Beauty is everywhere, including the most unexpected places. There is no respite from it. ~ Jenna Blum, #NFDB
1227:For Abby, "friend" is a word whose sharp corners have been worn smooth by overuse. "I'm friends with the guys in IT," she might say, or "I'm meeting some friends after work."
But she remembers when the word "friend" could draw blood. She and Gretchen spent hours ranking their friendships, trying to determine who was a best friend and who was an everyday friend, debating whether anyone could have two best friends at the same time, writing each other's names over and over in purple ink, buzzed on the dopamine high of belonging to someone else, having a total stranger choose you, someone who wanted to know you, another person who cared that you were alive. ~ Grady Hendrix,#NFDB
1228:It’s amazing what some women are willing to do to tip luck in their favor. To everyone’s surprise, when the MC announces the bride will bestow the honor of future nuptials on one of the singletons, Aunt Carmelita nearly stampedes all over the women at the wedding. From the very back corner of the room, a slash of purple comes running—for my wedding, Carmelita decided that Barney purple would gather the most attention, and it did. Trust me, between the in-your-face shade of her dress, earrings, clutch and matching shoes, her frou-frou British-style hat, and the lime-green belt cinched at her waist contrasting with the whole outfit, it’s impossible to miss her. ~ Scarlett Avery, #NFDB
1229:Alice's robes were seasonal. She hadn't exactly planned
it that way, but that's how it evolved. In winter there was a long,
warm, deep purple terry-cloth robe. In spring she changed to a new
blue-and-white cotton kimono. In summer there was a white chenille
bathrobe with a pattern on it, and in the fall she wore a cotton robe her
husband had bought her as a surprise gift. They were useful, practical
garments, but when she thought about it, she realized she wore them as
much for the feelings and memories they evoked as much as their physical
comfort. When I told her I thought her robes had become like temple
garments, she smiled,"Yes. ~ Robert Fulghum,#NFDB
1230:For a few moments he indulged his old joy in range and mountain, stretching, rising on his right, away into the purple distance. Something had heightened its beauty. How softly gray the rolling range land—how black the timbered slopes! The town before him sat like a hideous blotch on a fair landscape. It forced his gaze over and beyond toward the west, where the late afternoon sun had begun to mellow and redden, edging the clouds with exquisite light. To the southward lay Arizona, land of painted mesas and storied canyon walls, of thundering streams and wild pine forests, of purple-saged valleys and grassy parks, set like mosaics between the stark desert mountains. ~ Zane Grey, #NFDB
1231:I like the word ‘decadent,’ all shimmering with purple and gold … it throws out the brilliance of flames and the gleam of precious stones. It is made up of carnal spirit and unhappy flesh and of all the violent splendors of the Lower Empire; it conjures up the paint of the courtesans, the sports of the circus, the breath of the tamers of animals, the bounding of wild beasts, the collapse among the flames of races exhausted by the power of feeling, to the invading sound of enemy trumpets. The decadence is Sardanapalus lighting the fire in the midst of his women, it is Seneca declaiming poetry as he opens his veins, it is Petronius masking his agony with flowers. ~ Paul Verlaine, #NFDB
1232:A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you’d have thought he’d just popped out of the ground. The cat’s tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man’s name was Albus Dumbledore. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1233:As for the temperature of Hell, Miss Gray,” he said, “let me give you a piece of advice. The handsome young fellow who’s trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong. Not even if he says the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs.”
He really is mad, Tessa thought, but didn’t say so; she was too alarmed by the fact that he had started toward the wide double doors of the Dark Sisters’ chambers.
“No!” She caught at his arm, pulling him back. “Not that way. There’s no way out. It’s a dead end.”
“Correcting me again, I see.” Will turned and strode the other way, toward the shadowy corridor Tessa had always feared. Swallowing hard, she followed him. ~ Cassandra Clare,#NFDB
1234:citizens live almost exclusively underground. You can go outside for exercise and sunlight but only at very specific times in your schedule. You can’t miss your schedule. Every morning, you’re supposed to stick your right arm in this contraption in the wall. It tattoos the smooth inside of your forearm with your schedule for the day in a sickly purple ink. 7:00 — Breakfast. 7:30 — Kitchen Duties. 8:30 —Education Center, Room 17. And so on. The ink is indelible until 22:00 — Bathing. That’s when whatever keeps it water resistant breaks down and the whole schedule rinses away. The lights-out at 22:30 signals that everyone not on the night shift should be in bed. ~ Suzanne Collins, #NFDB
1235:Xvi
And yet, because thou overcomest so,
Because thou art more noble and like a king,
Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling
Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow
Too close against thine heart henceforth to know
How it shook when alone. Why, conquering
May prove as lordly and complete a thing
In lifting upward, as in crushing low !
And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword
To one who lifts him from the bloody earth,
Even so, Beloved, I at last record,
Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth,
I rise above abasement at the word.
Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1236:As they roared past the streetlamps, people emerged from their houses to see what was happening. Nina tried to imagine what their wild crew must look like to these Fjerdans. What did they see as they poked their heads out of windows and doorways? A group of hooting kids clinging to a tank painted with the Fjerdan flag and charging along like some deranged float gone astray from its parade: a girl in purple silk and a boy with red-gold curls poking out from behind the guns; four soaked people holding tight to the sides for dear life—a Shu boy in prison clothes, two bedraggled drüskelle, and Nina, a half-naked girl in shreds of teal chiffon shouting, "We have a moat! ~ Leigh Bardugo, #NFDB
1237:In the next hour, as he lay dying, he thought only of that moment of serenity, kneeling next to the church where he had been a boy before he grew into a man and realized the clarity of strength, his knees damp in the wet ground and in his palm the blue and red and purple glass.
As he lay dying, his flesh ripped like fabric, his blood flowing freely like the rain that came so often, he thought only of those beautiful shards of glass and the weight that they carried, and he found it difficult to comprehend that while he held those small holy things, how something so big and so powerful and so violent could have been so silent as it crept up behind him. ~ Michael Farris Smith,#NFDB
1238:Ix
Can it be right to give what I can give ?
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations ? O my fears,
That this can scarce be right ! We are not peers,
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas !
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nor give thee any love--which were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee ! let it pass.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1239:My Faith Is Larger Than The Hills
766
My Faith is larger than the Hills—
So when the Hills decay—
My Faith must take the Purple Wheel
To show the Sun the way—
'Tis first He steps upon the Vane—
And then—upon the Hill—
And then abroad the World He go
To do His Golden Will—
And if His Yellow feet should miss—
The Bird would not arise—
The Flowers would slumber on their Stems—
No Bells have Paradise—
How dare I, therefore, stint a faith
On which so vast depends—
Lest Firmament should fail for me—
The Rivet in the Bands
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1240:THE true faith discovered was
When painted panel, statuary.
Glass-mosaic, window-glass,
Amended what was told awry
By some peasant gospeller;
Swept the Sawdust from the floor
Of that working-carpenter.
Miracle had its playtime where
In damask clothed and on a seat
Chryselephantine, cedar-boarded,
His majestic Mother sat
Stitching at a purple hoarded
That He might be nobly breeched
In starry towers of Babylon
Noah's freshet never reached.
King Abundance got Him on
Innocence; and Wisdom He.
That cognomen sounded best
Considering what wild infancy
Drove horror from His Mother's breast.
~ William Butler Yeats, Wisdom
,#NFDB
1241:To the north and south in the golden glow of a September twilight we saw the long line of the Outer Hebrides like the rocky backbone of some submerged continent. The scenes and colours on the land and ocean and in the sky seemed more like some magic vision, reflected from Faerie by the 'good people' for our delight, than a thing of our own world. Never was air clearer or sea calmer, nor could there be air sweeter than that in the mystic mountain-stillness holding the perfume of millions of tiny blossoms of purple and white heather; and as the last honey-bees were leaving the beautiful blossoms their humming came to our ears like low, strange music from Fairyland. ~ W Y Evans Wentz, #NFDB
1242:The necropolis has never seemed a city of death to me; I know its purple roses (which other people think so hideous) shelter hundreds of small animals and birds. The executions I have seen performed and have performed myself so often are no more than a trade, a butchery of human beings who are for the most part less innocent and less valuable than cattle. When I think of my own death, or the death of someone who has been kind to me, or even of the death of the sun, the image that comes to my mind is that of the nenuphar, with its glossy, pale leaves and azure flower. Under flower and leaves are black roots as fine and strong as hair, reaching down into the dark waters. ~ Gene Wolfe, #NFDB
1243:I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colours richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow and a premonition of death. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content. From a knowledge of those limitations and its richness of experience emerges a symphony of colours, richer than all, its green speaking of life and strength, its orange speaking of golden content and its purple of resignation and death ~ Lin Yutang, #NFDB
1244:There was a small glass vase between us, three gladioli in a few ounces of water. One of the gladioli had dropped a petal- brushstroke of purple on fine white cloth. Rinpoche drank the last sip of his tea, then set the cup aside, took the petal with his thumb and second finger, placed it on the middle of the saucer in front of him, and turned the cup upside down to cover it.
"I feel a lesson coming on," I said...
"The flower is the good inside every person," he said. "The cup is like a wall, to protect. Many people have that wall."
"Armor" I said. He nodded.
"Why?"
"Because to live without the cup means you must feel the world as the world really is. ~ Roland Merullo,#NFDB
1245:Indian Summer
The old grey year is near his term in sooth,
And now with backward eye and soft-laid palm
Awakens to a golden dream of youth,
A second childhood lovely and most calm,
And the smooth hour about his misty head
An awning of enchanted splendour weaves,
Of maples, amber, purple and rose-red,
And droop-limbed elms down-dropping golden leaves.
With still half-fallen lids he sits and dreams
Far in a hollow of the sunlit wood,
Lulled by the murmur of thin-threading streams,
Nor sees the polar armies overflood
The darkening barriers of the hills, nor hears
The north-wind ringing with a thousand spears.
~ Archibald Lampman,#NFDB
1246:Sonnet Xvi
And yet, because thou overcomest so,
Because thou art more noble and like a king,
Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling
Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow
Too close against thine heart henceforth to know
How it shook when alone. Why, conquering
May prove as lordly and complete a thing
In lifting upward, as in crushing low !
And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword
To one who lifts him from the bloody earth,
Even so, Beloved, I at last record,
Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth,
I rise above abasement at the word.
Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1247:We ought, then, to set up images of a kind that can adhere longest in the memory. And we shall do so if we establish likenesses as striking as possible; if we set up images that are not many or vague, but doing something; if we assign to them exceptional beauty or singular ugliness; if we dress some of them with crowns or purple cloaks, for example, so that the likeness may be more distinct to us; or if we somehow disfigure them, as by introducing one stained with blood or soiled with mud or smeared with red paint, so that its form is more striking, or by assigning certain comic effects to our images, for that, too, will ensure our remembering them more readily. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero, #NFDB
1248:For example, the first time Aunt B came to the Pack Council, he took it upon himself to lecture her about how men should be men and women should be women, and Clan alphas should be men with women helping them, not the other way around."
I laughed. "What did she do?"
"She patted his shoulder and said, 'Bless your heart, you must be awful in bed.'"
Ha!
"Then she turned to Martha and told her that if she ever was in need of a man who respected women enough to think they were human beings she had several available in her clan."
That sounded like Aunt B.
"Mahon turned purple and didn't say another word through the whole Council meeting. ~ Ilona Andrews,#NFDB
1249:On Lake Temiscamingue
A single dreary elm, that stands between
The sombre forest and the wan-lit lake,
Halves with its slim gray stem and pendent green
The shadowed point. Beyond it without break
Bold brows of pine-topped granite bend away,
Far to the southward, fading off in grand
Soft folds of looming purple. Cool and gray,
The point runs out, a blade of thinnest sand.
Two rivers meet beyond it: wild and clear,
Their deepening thunder breaks upon the earThe one descending from its forest home
By many an eddied pool and murmuring fallThe other cloven through the mountain wall,
A race of tumbled rocks, a road of foam.
~ Archibald Lampman,#NFDB
1250:Trez had run into when he’d finally dropped himself out of the air . . . also the one where Rehv had had to do the duty with that nasty symphath Princess who’d been blackmailing him. Trez had taken shelter when Rehv had arrived and fucked the bitch standing up a couple of times. Afterward, she had left him in a mess on the floor, the poison she’d put on her skin having leveled Rehvenge. Caring for the guy had only seemed natural. And in return? He and that purple-eyed bastard had become brothers of a sort. To the point where, when iAm had turned up on the outside, the three of them had fallen in together, Trez’s loyalty and gratitude indenturing him and his kin to the sin-eater. ~ J R Ward, #NFDB
1251:He listened to the hooting of many metal horns, squealing of brakes, the calls of vendors selling red-purple bananas and jungle oranges in their stalls. Colonel Freeleigh's feet began to move, hanging from the edge of his wheel chair, making the motions of a man walking. His eyes squeezed tight. He gave a series of immense sniffs, as if to gain the odors of meats hung on iron hooks in sunshine, cloaked with flies like a mantle of raisins; the smell of stone alleys wet with morning rain. He could feel the sun bum his spiny-bearded cheek, and he was twenty-five years old again, walking, walking, looking, smiling, happy to be alive, very much alert, drinking in colors and smells. ~ Ray Bradbury, #NFDB
1252:An Altered Look About The Hills
140
An altered look about the hills—
A Tyrian light the village fills—
A wider sunrise in the morn—
A deeper twilight on the lawn—
A print of a vermillion foot—
A purple finger on the slope—
A flippant fly upon the pane—
A spider at his trade again—
An added strut in Chanticleer—
A flower expected everywhere—
An axe shrill singing in the woods—
Fern odors on untravelled roads—
All this and more I cannot tell—
A furtive look you know as well—
And Nicodemus' Mystery
Receives its annual reply!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1253:A Tulip Garden
Guarded within the old red wall's embrace,
Marshalled like soldiers in gay company,
The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry
Wheels out into the sunlight. What bold grace
Sets off their tunics, white with crimson lace!
Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry,
With scarlet sabres tossing in the eye
Of purple batteries, every gun in place.
Forward they come, with flaunting colours spread,
With torches burning, stepping out in time
To some quick, unheard march. Our ears are dead,
We cannot catch the tune. In pantomime
Parades that army. With our utmost powers
We hear the wind stream through a bed of flowers.
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
1254:Ahead lay a chocolate-brown smudge of land, huddled in mist, with a frill of foam at its base. This was Corfu, and we strained our eyes to make out the exact shapes of the mountains, to discover valleys, peaks, ravines, and beaches, but it remained a silhouette. Then suddenly the sun lifted over the horizon, and the sky turned the smooth enamelled blue of a jay’s eye. The endless, meticulous curves of the sea flamed for an instant and then changed to a deep royal purple flecked with green. The mist lifted in quick, lithe ribbons, and before us lay the island, the mountains as though sleeping beneath a crumpled blanket of brown, the folds stained with the green of olive groves. ~ Gerald Durrell, #NFDB
1255:Memory
O camp of flowers, with poplars girdled round,
The guardians of life's soft and purple bud!
O silver spring, beside whose brimming flood
My dreaming childhood its Elysium found!
O happy hours with love and fancy crowned,
Whose horn of plenty flatteringly subdued
My heart into a trance, whence, with a rude
And horrid blast, fate came my soul to hound:
Who was the goddess who empowered you all
Thus to bewitch me? Out of wasting snow
And lily-leaves her headdress should be made!
Weep, my poor lute! nor on Astræa call.
She will not smile, nor I, who mourn below,
Till I, a shade in heaven, clasp her, a shade.
~ Erik Johan Stagnelius,#NFDB
1256:Perhaps lovers aren't supposed to look down at the ground. That kind of story is told in symbols, and earth represents reality, and reality represents frustrations, chance illnesses, death, murder, and all kinds of other tragedies. Lovers are meant to look up at the sky, for up there no beautiful illusions can be trampled upon."
Frowning, sulky, I gazed moodily at him. "And when I fall in love," I began, "I will build a mountain to touch the sky. Then, my lover and I will have the best of both worlds, reality firmly under our feet, while we have our heads in the clouds with all our illusions still intact. And the purple grass will grow all around, high enough to reach our eyes. ~ V C Andrews,#NFDB
1257:Pigments such as haemoglobin are coloured because they absorb light of particular colours (bands of light, as in a rainbow) and reflect back light of other colours. The pattern of light absorbed by a compound is known as its absorption spectrum. When binding oxygen, haemoglobin absorbs light in the blue-green and yellow parts of the spectrum, but reflects back red light, and this is the reason why we perceive arterial blood as a vivid red colour. The absorption spectrum changes when oxygen dissociates from haemoglobin in venous blood. Deoxyhaemoglobin absorbs light across the green part of the spectrum, and reflects back red and blue light. This gives venous blood its purple colour. ~ Nick Lane, #NFDB
1258:Jacob is being really good, and he sits on the edge of his chair when the recital starts. “I can’t see,” he complains. Next thing I know, he’s crawling into my lap. He sits his skinny little body right on top of mine and leans back so that his head is resting on my shoulder, and he snuggles in. He still smells like the outdoors and purple shampoo, and I want to hold him like this forever. Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them back furiously. Henry reaches into his pocket and hands me his cotton handkerchief. I wave him off. I’m going to keep it together, I promise myself. “Can you see now?” I ask Jacob. He nods, and his cheek brushes mine. I close my eyes and drink in the feeling. ~ Tammy Falkner, #NFDB
1259:I will arise and go now,
And go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
Of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there,
A hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there,
For peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning
To where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer,
And noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings
I will arise and go now,
For always night and day
I hear lake water lapping
With low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway
Or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core. ~ W B Yeats,#NFDB
1260:Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8 color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64 color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64 color box, though I've got a few missing. It's okay though, because I've got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the 8 color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation. So when I meet someone who's an 8 color type...I'm like, hey girl, Magenta! and she's like, oh, you mean purple! and she goes off on her purple thing, and I'm like, no I want Magenta! ~ John Mayer, #NFDB
1261:Sonnet Viii: What Can I Give Thee Back
What can I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold
And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,
And laid them on the outside of the wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In unexpected largesse? am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all?
Not so; not cold,--but very poor instead.
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run
The colours from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther! let it serve to trample on.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1262:Sonnet Ii
Written at the close of Spring.
THE garlands fade that Spring so lately wove,
Each simple flower, which she had nursed in dew,
Anemonies, that spangled every grove,
The primrose wan, and hare-bell mildly blue.
No more shall violets linger in the dell,
Or purple orchis variegate the plain,
Till Spring again shall call forth every bell,
And dress with humid hands her wreaths again.Ah! poor humanity! so frail, so fair,
Are the fond visions of thy early day,
Till tyrant passion and corrosive care
Bid all thy fairy colours fade away!
Another May new buds and flowers shall bring;
Ah! why has happiness-no second spring?
~ Charlotte Smith,#NFDB
1263:There, below the cliffs, is a bay of sand where the rocks stand up like the fangs of wolves, and no boat or swimmer can live when the tide is breaking round them. To right and left of the bay the sea has driven arches through the cliff. The rocks are purple and rose-coloured and pale as turquoise in the sun, and on a summer’s evening when the tide is low and the sun is sinking, men see on the horizon land that comes and goes with the light. It is the Summer Isle, which (they say) floats and sinks at the will of heaven, the Island of Glass through which the clouds and stars can be seen, but which for those who dwell there is full of trees and grass and springs of sweet water . . .’ The ~ Mary Stewart, #NFDB
1264:Val set Séraphine before the roaring fire, but kept his hands on her because he'd learned his lesson well... and also because he liked his hands on her.
She glanced at the steaming bath and suppressed another shiver. "I should leave if you're about to take a bath."
"Why?" he asked as he slipped his sadly ruined purple velvet coat from her shoulders. It had cost more than she'd probably make in a lifetime and now stank of bacon and horses, thanks to her. He threw the sodden thing in the corner.
"You'll want your privacy," she replied nonsensically.
He looked into her dark eyes, amused, as he unhooked her chatelaine and laid it on a table. "When have I ever wanted privacy? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,#NFDB
1265:We ought, then, to set up images of a kind that can adhere longest in memory. And we shall do so if we establish similitudes as striking as possible; if we set up images that are not many or vague but active; if we assign to them exceptional beauty or singular ugliness; if we ornament some of them, as with crowns or purple cloaks, so that the similitude may be more distinct to us; or if we somehow disfigure them, as by introducing one stained with blood or soiled with mud and smeared with red paint, so that its form is more striking, or by assigning certain comic effects to our images, for that, too, will ensure our remembering them more readily. ~ Rhetorica Ad Herrenium, III, xxii (1st century BCE), #NFDB
1266:Behind those doors was, in a stunning anticlimax, another set of doors, which slid open. A lift. They descended for many floors, until it was clear that they were several stories beneath the ground. Neither of them said anything, but Myfanwy took the opportunity to eye her secretary in the mirrored walls. Ingrid was tall, in her late forties, and her auburn hair was immaculately coiffed. She was slim and fit-looking, as if she spent every afternoon playing tennis. She wore a few pieces of discreet gold jewelry, including a wedding ring. Myfanwy breathed in gently through her nose and smelled Ingrid’s good perfume. The business suit she wore was of a light purple, and exquisitely cut. ~ Daniel O Malley, #NFDB
1267:Xxvi
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweefer music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come--to be,
Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,
As river-water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1268:O Camp Of Flowers
O camp of flowers, with poplars girdled round,
Gray guardians of life's soft and purple bud!
O silver spring, beside whose brimming flood
My pensive childhood its Elysium found!
O happy hours by love and fancy crowned,
Whose horn of plenty flatteringly subdued
My heart into a trance, whence, with a rude
And horrid blast, fate came my soul to hound!
Who was the goddess that empowered you all
Thus to bewitch me? Out of wasting snow
And lily-leaves her head-dress should be made!
Weep, my poor lute! nor on Astraea call,
She will not smile, nor I, who mourn below,
Till I, a shade in heaven, clasp her, a shade.
~ Erik Johan Stagnelius,#NFDB
1269:The nice thing about poetry is that you’re always stretching the definitions of words. Lawyers and scientists and scholars of one sort or another try to restrict the definitions, hoping that they can prevent people from fooling each other. But that doesn’t stop people from lying.
Cezanne painted a red barn by painting it ten shades of color: purple to yellow. And he got a red barn. Similarly, a poet will describe things many different ways, circling around it, to get to the truth.
My father also had a nice little simile. He said, “The truth is a rabbit in a bramble patch. And you can’t lay your hand on it. All you do is circle around and point, and say, ‘It’s in there somewhere. ~ Pete Seeger,#NFDB
1270:Sonnet Ix: Can It Be Right To Give
Can it be right to give what I can give?
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,
That this can scarce be right! We are not peers,
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nor give thee any love--which were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1271:Everywhere I traveled I saw this death space in action, and I felt what it means to be held. At Ruriden columbarium in Japan, I was held by a sphere of Buddhas glowing soft blue and purple. At the cemetery in Mexico, I was held by a single wrought-iron fence in the light of tens of thousands of flickering amber candles. At the open-air pyre in Colorado, I was held within the elegant bamboo walls, which kept mourners safe as the flames shot high. There was magic to each of these places. There was grief, unimaginable grief. But in that grief there was no shame. These were places to meet despair face to face and say, 'I see you waiting there. And I feel you, strongly. But you do not demean me. ~ Caitlin Doughty, #NFDB
1272:It Will Be Summer—eventually
342
It will be Summer—eventually.
Ladies—with parasols—
Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes—
And little Girls—with Dolls—
Will tint the pallid landscape—
As 'twere a bright Bouquet—
Thro' drifted deep, in Parian—
The Village lies—today—
The Lilacs—bending many a year—
Will sway with purple load—
The Bees—will not despise the tune—
Their Forefathers—have hummed—
The Wild Rose—redden in the Bog—
The Aster—on the Hill
Her everlasting fashion—set—
And Covenant Gentians—frill—
Till Summer folds her miracle—
As Women—do—their Gown—
Of Priests—adjust the Symbols—
When Sacrament—is done—
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1273:I place a palm at his chest. His heartbeat knocks rapidly against my skin. "I never would have guessed."
"What's that?" he asks on a hoarse whisper.
"That you're one of those netherlings who has a rare penchant for kindness and courage."
"Tut." He presses his glove over my hand. "Only when there's fringe benefits."
Smiling, I rise to my toes, grip his lapels, and kiss each one of his jewels until they change to a captivating dark purple—the color of passion fruit. I ease back to the balls of my feet. "So beautiful," I whisper, tapping one of the sparkling gems.
Morpheus catches my palm and kisses the scars there. "I couldn't agree more." ~ A G Howard,#NFDB
1274:Sonnet Xxvi
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweefer music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come--to be,
Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,
As river-water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1275:We'll start with Un Petite Flamme. It's our espresso macaron. Go on, try it."
She looks down at her plate. "This one? With the gold?"
"Yup, go on."
She puts it against her tongue like she's taking communion.
"Good?"
She nods quickly.
Then I place a purple one on her plate.
Rilla lifts it up. "This one has the jam inside, right?"
"Yes; it's Remede de Deliverance. Black currant filling, in the middle of the cream."
She closes her eyes while she eats it slowly. So slowly I worry she will need to come up for air.
"What does that mean?" she asks when she has finally swallowed the last tiny mouthful.
"Remede de Deliverance? 'Rescue remedy.' It's violet-flavored. ~ Hannah Tunnicliffe,#NFDB
1276:A Niagara Landscape
Heavy with haze that merges and melts free
Into the measureless depth on either hand,
The full day rests upon the luminous land
In one long noon of golden reverie.
Now hath the harvest come and gone with glee.
The shaven fields stretch smooth and clean away,
Purple and green, and yellow, and soft gray,
Chequered with orchards. Farther still I see
Towns and dim villages, whose roof-tops fill
The distant mist, yet scarcely catch the view.
Thorold set sultry on its plateau'd hill,
And far to westward, where yon pointed towers
Rise faint and ruddy from the vaporous blue,
Saint Catharines, city of the host of flowers.
~ Archibald Lampman,#NFDB
1277:Shadows On The Down
When daffodils danced in Chuck Hatch, and white clouds
Drew their own shadowy purple across the hills,
Darkening the valley where the small flint church
The Saxon built stood roofless to the sun,
Believe me, Memory, it was not a shadow!
No shadow of a cloud you saw that day
Flowing across the smooth deep-breasted downs,
But something darker, sweeter,--the wild thyme
Of Sussex, flowing like a river of joy
That tossed a hundred skylarks up.
&n
bsp;
;&n
bsp;
;No shadow,
Believe me, Memory, but the purple thyme
Flowing by windmill and by wattled fold
On to the white chalk coast and sparkling sea.
~ Alfred Noyes,#NFDB
1278:Shenandoah
IN the Shenandoah Valley, one rider gray and one rider blue, and the sun on the
riders wondering.
Piled in the Shenandoah, riders blue and riders gray, piled with shovels, one and
another, dust in the Shenandoah taking them quicker than mothers take children
done with play.
The blue nobody remembers, the gray nobody remembers, it's all old and old
nowadays in the Shenandoah.. . .
And all is young, a butter of dandelions slung on the turf, climbing blue flowers of
the wishing woodlands wondering: a midnight purple violet claims the sun among
old heads, among old dreams of repeating heads of a rider blue and a rider gray
in the Shenandoah.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1279:On Gifts for Grace
I saw a great teapot
I wanted to get you this stupendous
100% cotton royal blue and black checked shirt,
There was a red and black striped one too
Then I saw these boots at a place called Chuckles
They laced up to about two inches above your ankles
All leather and in red, black or purple
It was hard to have no money today
I won't even speak about the possible flowers and kinds of lingerie
All linen and silk with not-yet-perfumed laces
Brilliant enough for any of the Graces
Full of luxury, grace notes, prosperousness and charm
But I can only praise you with this poem—
Its being is the same as the meaning of your name
~ Bernadette Mayer,#NFDB
1280:Sometimes kids at school called her mean. She wasn’t mean. She just saw reality clearly, and she shared it without dusting it in sugar and rainbows first. One day, when Anna was in first grade, she’d come home crying after her best friend had suddenly refused to sit with her at lunch. Her mother had tried to comfort her. “When someone asks you if you like their dress, say yes,” she said. Anna had sniffed, tears rolling down her face, and said, “But I didn’t like it! Why should I lie?” And her mother had sighed. “Because it’s what we do, to be nice.” Anna had decided, at that moment, that honest was more important than nice when it came to purple polka dots. She’d been fighting the world ever since. ~ Jude Watson, #NFDB
1281:Sonnet Xvi: And Yet, Because Thou
And yet, because thou overcomest so,
Because thou art more noble and like a king,
Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling
Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow
Too close against thine heart henceforth to know
How it shook when alone. Why, conquering
May prove as lordly and complete a thing
In lifting upward, as in crushing low!
And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword
To one who lifts him from the bloody earth;
Even so, Belovèd, I at last record,
Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth,
I rise above abasement at the word.
Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1282:Vida Winter's appearance was not calculated for concealment. She was an ancient queen, sorceress or goddess. Her stiff figure rose regally out of a profusion of fat purple and red cushions. Draped around her shoulders, the folds of the turquoise-and-green cloth that had cloaked her body did not soften the rigidity of her frame. Her bright copper hair had been arranged into an elaborate confection of twists, curls and coils. Her face, as intricately lined as a map, was powdered white and finished with bold scarlet lipstick. In her lap, her hands were a cluster of rubies, emeralds and white, bony knuckles; only her nails, unvarnished, cut short and square like my own, struck an incongruous tone. ~ Diane Setterfield, #NFDB
1283:The Five Adorations
I praise Thee, God, whose rays upstart beneath the Bright
and Morning Star:
Nowit asali fardh salat assobhi allahu akbar.
I praise Thee, God, the fierce and swart; at noon Thou ridest
forth to war!
Nowit asali fardh salat assohri allahu akabr.
I praise Thee, God, whose arrows dart their royal radiance
o'er the scar:
Nowit asali fardh salat asasri allahu akabr.
I praise Thee, God, whose fires depart, who drivest down the
sky thy car:
Nowit asali fardh salat al maghrab allahu akabr.
I praise Thee, God, whose purple heart is hidden in the abyss
afar:
Nowit asali fardh salat al asha allahu akabr.
DOST ACHIHA KHAN.
~ Aleister Crowley,#NFDB
1284:Men have told me I’m beautiful before,” I said, shrugging, “but at the end of the day I’d rather be thought of for more than just looks.” Louis’s eyes roamed across my face, and I could see thoughts churning in their unusual purple depths. “Yes, people have told you, but you don’t really believe them. Or maybe it’s that you don’t really seem interested when they say it.” He pulled on my hand, and we started walking again. “Why is that, do you think?” I knew I wasn’t ugly, and I had some striking features, like my hair and eyes, but I thought I was much more beautiful in wolf form. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So my only hope is that when I fall in love, find my one, that he finds me beautiful. ~ Jaymin Eve, #NFDB
1285:Neyt, take your tablet and go ahead,” she said. “We have to protect the intelligence. I will meet you at my apartment.” Nate smiled at her and brushed a strand of hair off her face.
“Domi, we go together. I’m not leaving you.”
Dominika closed her eyes for a moment, struggling. “The Iranian information is too valuable,” she slurred.
“You’re too valuable … to me,” said Nate.
Dominika opened her eyes and looked at him. The purple cloud around his head swirled and expanded. “Your color is so beautiful,” she whispered in Russian, closing her eyes again.
Hallucinating, he thought. Got to get her dry and warm fast. “What are you saying?” he whispered back.
“So beautiful,” Dominika mumbled. ~ Jason Matthews,#NFDB
1286:• Black: fertility, protection against malevolent forces, healing of chronic illnesses • Blue: peace, tranquility, protection, healing of addictions, psychic and emotional pain • Brown: justice, legal issues, healing fatigue and wasting illnesses • Green: growth, prosperity, abundance, employment, physical healing, especially cancer • Purple: sex, power, lust, spiritual growth and ecstasy • Red: luck, love, good fortune, fertility, banishment of negative entities, protection, healing blood ailments and female reproductive disorders • Pink: love, romance, requests for healing children • White: creativity, forgiveness, new projects* • Yellow: romance, love, sex, growth, prosperity, good fortune, abundance ~ Judika Illes, #NFDB
1287:The Answer
You have spoken the answer.
A child searches far sometimes
Into the red dust
On a dark rose leaf
And so you have gone far
For the answer is:
Silence.
In the republic
Of the winking stars
and spent cataclysms
Sure we are it is off there the answer
is hidden and folded over,
Sleeping in the sun, careless whether
it is Sunday or any other day of
the week,
Knowing silence will bring all one way or another.
Have we not seen
Purple of the pansy
out of the mulch
and mold
crawl
into a dusk
of velvet?
blur of yellow?
Almost we thought from nowhere but it was the silence,
the future,
working.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1288:Sonnet 08 - What Can I Give Thee Back, O Liberal
VIII
What can I give thee back, O liberal
And princely giver, who hast brought the gold
And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,
And laid them on the outside of the-wall
For such as I to take or leave withal,
In unexpected largesse? am I cold,
Ungrateful, that for these most manifold
High gifts, I render nothing back at all?
Not so; not cold,—but very poor instead.
Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run
The colors from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Go farther! let it serve to trample on.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1289:Hildrup Tubbs
I made two fights for the people.
First I left my party, bearing the gonfalon
Of independence, for reform, and was defeated.
Next I used my rebel strength
To capture the standard of my old party -And I captured it, but I was defeated.
Discredited and discarded, misanthropical,
I turned to the solace of gold
And I used my remnant of power
To fasten myself like a saprophyte
Upon the putrescent carcass
Of Thomas Rhodes' bankrupt bank,
As assignee of the fund.
Everyone now turned from me.
My hair grew white,
My purple lusts grew gray,
Tobacco and whisky lost their savor
And for years Death ignored me
As he does a hog.
~ Edgar Lee Masters,#NFDB
1290:Morning Peace
THE sudden sunbeams slant between the trees
Like solid bars of silver. moonlight kissed,
And strike the supine shadows where they rest
Stretched sleeping; while a timid, new-born Breeze
Stirs through the grasses, petulant—her eyes
Half-blinded by the clinging scarves of mist:
Her robes, that tangled through the grasses twist,
Weave as she moves sweet whispered melodies.
O may it be a morn like this, when slow
From a dark world beneath my soul shall go
Through the wet grasses of a purple plain,
Still stretching broader in the cool, grey glow
Of morning twllight: then my soul shall know
That life and love are lost—and found again!
~ Arthur Henry Adams,#NFDB
1291:What if the water that came out of the shower was treated with a chemical that responded to a combination of things, like your heartbeat and your body temperature and your brainwaves, so that your skin changed color according to mood? If you were extremely excited your skin would turn green, and if you we're angry you'd turn red, obviously, and if you felt like shiitake you'd turn brown and if you we're blue you'd turn blue.
Everyone could know what everyone else felt and we could be more careful with each other, because you'd never want to tell someone who skin was purple that you're angry at her for being late, just like you'd want to pat a pink person on the back and say, "Congratulations! ~ Jonathan Safran Foer,#NFDB
1292:After A Long Insomniac Night
I walked down to the sea in the early morning
after a long insomniac night.
I climbed over the giant gull-colored rocks
and moved past the trees,
tall dancers stretching their limbs
and warming up in the blue light.
I entered the salty water, a penitent
whose body was stained,
and swam toward a red star rising
in the east—regal, purple-robed.
One shore disappeared behind me
and another beckoned.
I confess
that I forgot the person I had been
as easily as the clouds drifting overhead.
My hands parted the water.
The wind pressed at my back, wings
and my soul floated over the whitecapped waves.
Read more:
~ Edward Hirsch,#NFDB
1293:
I praise Thee, God, whose rays upstart beneath the Bright
and Morning Star:
Nowit asali fardh salat assobhi allahu akbar.
I praise Thee, God, the fierce and swart; at noon Thou ridest
forth to war!
Nowit asali fardh salat assohri allahu akabr.
I praise Thee, God, whose arrows dart their royal radiance
o'er the scar:
Nowit asali fardh salat asasri allahu akabr.
I praise Thee, God, whose fires depart, who drivest down the
sky thy car:
Nowit asali fardh salat al maghrab allahu akabr.
I praise Thee, God, whose purple heart is hidden in the abyss
afar:
Nowit asali fardh salat al asha allahu akabr.
DOST ACHIHA KHAN.
~ Aleister Crowley, The Five Adorations
,#NFDB
1294:I was heavy with exasperation in a city of pre-apocalyptic heat and pre-emptively obsolesced futurity. It was a city that expanded beyond its capacity in advance of itself, a city designed to punish anyone poor or ugly or infirm in it, I thought, the moment the globe went hot, I thought, the season the water ran out, I thought, on a bus in Los Angeles in a heat wave. (…) I needed the purple line or the red line to Union Station then the San Bernardino line back to Claremont back to my host’s, but I was feeling so hard for the people in the heat wave, people at the bus stop sweating like I was sweating, all of us the tragic consequence, I thought, of the historical forces that enabled Matthew Barney’s gilded shit. ~ Anne Boyer, #NFDB
1295:In Bertram's Garden
Jane looks down at her organdy skirt
As if it somehow were the thing disgraced,
For being there, on the floor, in the dirt,
And she catches it up about her waist,
Smooths it out along one hip,
And pulls it over the crumpled slip.
On the porch, green-shuttered, cool,
Asleep is Bertram that bronze boy,
Who, having wound her around a spool,
Sends her spinning like a toy
Out to the garden, all alone,
To sit and weep on a bench of stone.
Soon the purple dark must bruise
Lily and bleeding-heart and rose,
And the little cupid lose
Eyes and ears and chin and nose,
And Jane lie down with others soon,
Naked to the naked moon.
~ Donald Justice,#NFDB
1296:Gray,” she said slowly, “I don’t think we can get married.” “Don’t be silly, love, of course we can get married.” “No. We can’t.” His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear. “And whyever not, sweeting?” he said, cheerfully. “Because your career as a naval officer would never survive the reality of having a wife who’s out roving the Spanish Main.” He looked amused and, straightening up, ruffled her hair affectionately before tugging the bright purple ribbon from her nape. Then his lips came down against hers and she moaned softly as his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth. “Ah, Maeve,” he murmured, reluctantly breaking the kiss. “Any roving you do after we are wed will take place in our marriage bed. ~ Danelle Harmon, #NFDB
1297:Sonnet 16 - And Yet, Because Thou Overcomest So
XVI
And yet, because thou overcomest so,
Because thou art more noble and like a king,
Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling
Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow
Too close against thine heart henceforth to know
How it shook when alone. Why, conquering
May prove as lordly and complete a thing
In lifting upward, as in crushing low!
And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword
To one who lifts him from the bloody earth,
Even so, Beloved, I at last record,
Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth,
I rise above abasement at the word.
Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1298:One of the most popular illustrations we use in Love and Respect Conferences compares women and men to pink and blue. The audience responds immediately when I talk about how she sees through pink sunglasses and hears with pink hearing aids, while he sees through blue sunglasses and hears with blue hearing aids. In other words, women and men are very different. Yet, when blue blends with pink, it becomes purple, God’s color—the color of royalty. The way for pink and blue to blend is spelled out in Ephesians 5:33: “[Every husband] must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband” (NIV). Living out Ephesians 5:33 is the key to blending together as one to reflect the very image of God. ~ Emerson Eggerichs, #NFDB
1299:For a moment all was silence, save for her breathing. Triumph raced through Bridget's chest. At last!
Then she heard a masculine chuckle behind her.
Bridget froze, ice sliding down her spine. The sound could be nothing else, not the wind or a creaky house or even a mouse in the walls.
She turned, pushing the panel shut with her shoulder, and palming the portrait as she did so.
The Duke of Montgomery, all golden hair and sharp blue eyes, and wearing a purple velvet suit, smiled at her from the armchair in the far corner of the room.
"A lovely woman in my bed, what a fetching surprise." He cocked his head, a corner of his beautiful mouth curving cruelly. "Tell me, Mrs. Crumb, what are you looking for? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,#NFDB
1300:Sonnet Xxvi: I Lived With Visions
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweeter music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then thou didst come--to be,
Belovèd, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,
As river water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1301:What the fuck happened to your nose?” he asks. I look in the mirror over the sink. The skin under my eyes is a little purple, and I imagine there’s a good chance I’ll have two black eyes by tomorrow morning. “Skylar hit me,” I say. Pete snorts. “Shut the fuck up,” he says when I just look at him. “She really hit you?” “It was an accident,” I say. “We were playing Wii bowling, and the controller flew out of her hand.” I touch my nose. It actually hurts like a motherfucker. “You’ll have to marry her,” Logan says. “It’s a rule.” But he’s laughing. I’m not. “Yeah, I am kind of headed in that direction,” I say. I don’t look at either of them because I feel like they’ll see right through me. They always have been able to. ~ Tammy Falkner, #NFDB
1302:Xxxviii
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ' Oh, list,'
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed !
That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, ' My love, my own.'
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1303:Harry moved closer to George and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, ‘What are Skiving Snackboxes?’ ‘Range of sweets to make you ill,’ George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Mrs Weasley’s back. ‘Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Fred and I have been developing them this summer. They’re double-ended, colour-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you’ve been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half –’ ‘“– which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1304:Her time with Charles had been brief and intense, consisting of stolen moments behind her stepfather's woodshed or clandestine meetings with her dashing British officer dressed as a civilian farmer so as not to arouse suspicion. But she had never spent a night with him. Had never lain her head atop his chest and fallen asleep while he stroked her hair and told her stories about his childhood, never dreamed in the protective circle of his embrace, never laughed until the tears rolled helplessly down her cheeks — as she had done last night when Gareth had told her what he and the Den of Debauchery members had done to a certain statue back in Ravenscombe ... She laughed just thinking about it. Purple parts, indeed! She ~ Danelle Harmon, #NFDB
1305:Francis Ii, King Of Naples
Written after reading Trevelyan's "Garibaldi and the making of Italy"
Poor foolish monarch, vacillating, vain,
Decaying victim of a race of kings,
Swift Destiny shook out her purple wings
And caught him in their shadow; not again
Could furtive plotting smear another stain
Across his tarnished honour. Smoulderings
Of sacrificial fires burst their rings
And blotted out in smoke his lost domain.
Bereft of courtiers, only with his queen,
From empty palace down to empty quay.
No challenge screamed from hostile carabine.
A single vessel waited, shadowy;
All night she ploughed her solitary way
Beneath the stars, and through a tranquil sea.
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
1306:The Plaid Dress
Strong sun, that bleach
The curtains of my room, can you not render
Colourless this dress I wear?—
This violent plaid
Of purple angers and red shames; the yellow stripe
Of thin but valid treacheries; the flashy green of kind deeds done
Through indolence high judgments given here in haste;
The recurring checker of the serious breach of taste?
No more uncoloured than unmade,
I fear, can be this garment that I may not doff;
Confession does not strip it off,
To send me homeward eased and bare;
All through the formal, unoffending evening, under the clean
Bright hair,
Lining the subtle gown. . .it is not seen,
But it is there.
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay,#NFDB
1307:The moors were far more complex than they had seemed to her on that first night, when she had been young and innocent and unaware of her own future. They were brown, yes, riddled with dead and dying vegetation. Every shade of brown that there was could be found on the Moors. They were also bright with growing green and mellow gold, and with the rainbow pops of flowers - yellow marigold and blue heather and purple wolf’s bane. Hemlock bloomed white as clouds. Foxglove spanned the spectrum of sunset. The Moors were beautiful in their own way, and if their beauty was the quiet sort that required time and introspection to be seen, well, there was nothing wrong with that. The best beauty was the sort that took some seeking. ~ Seanan McGuire, #NFDB
1308:Sonnet 09 - Can It Be Right To Give What I Can Give?
IX
Can it be right to give what I can give?
To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears
As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years
Re-sighing on my lips renunciative
Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live
For all thy adjurations? O my fears,
That this can scarce be right! We are not peers,
So to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,
That givers of such gifts as mine are, must
Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!
I will not soil thy purple with my dust,
Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,
Nor give thee any love—which were unjust.
Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1309:In Answer To A Request
You ask me for a sonnet. Ah, my Dear,
Can clocks tick back to yesterday at noon?
Can cracked and fallen leaves recall last June
And leap up on the boughs, now stiff and sere?
For your sake, I would go and seek the year,
Faded beyond the purple ranks of dune,
Blown sands of drifted hours, which the moon
Streaks with a ghostly finger, and her sneer
Pulls at my lengthening shadow. Yes, 'tis that!
My shadow stretches forward, and the ground
Is dark in front because the light's behind.
It is grotesque, with such a funny hat,
In watching it and walking I have found
More than enough to occupy my mind.
I cannot turn, the light would make me blind.
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
1310:Lament
WHEN you hear the white-throat pealing
From a tree-top far away,
And the hills are touched with purple
At the borders of the day;
When the redwing sounds his whistle
At the coming on of spring,
And the joyous April pipers
Make the alder marshes ring;
When the wild new breath of being
Whispers to the World once more,
And before the shrine of beauty
Every spirit must adore;
When long thoughts come back with twilight,
And a tender deepened mood
Shows the eyes of the beloved
Like hepaticas in the wood;
Ah, remember, when to nothing
Save to love your heart gives heed,
And spring takes you to her bosom,—
So it was with Golden Weed!
~ Bliss William Carman,#NFDB
1311:She was crouched in the corner of the room, eating something off the floor. It was the old woman dressed in endless black. When she looked up this time there was no question she was there for me. She had the face of my mother but much older, her ancient decayed mouth coming closer for her good-night kiss. I steeled myself against her putrid smell, the mouthful of bitter dust, but as her lips touched mine it was like biting into a purple black plum whose fruit was brilliant red, like an explosion of intense joy. Its childhood smell wrinkled my nose with pleasure, its sweet juices ran down my chin, turning into a beautiful black ocean where I floated safely, not lost as I had imagined, but securely tucked away deep in space. ~ Mary Woronov, #NFDB
1312:HE HAD SEEN IT FOR the first time from the deck of a ketch a mile out to sea, the small cottage at the southern end of Gunwalloe Cove, perched atop the cliffs in the manner of Monet’s Customs Officer’s Cabin at Pourville. Below it was a crescent of beaten sand where an old shipwreck slept beneath the treacherous surf. Behind it, beyond the purple thrift and red fescue of the cliff tops, rose a sloping green field crisscrossed by hedgerows. At that moment, Gabriel saw none of it, for he was hunched like a refugee in the back of the service van. He knew they were close, though; the road told him so. He knew every bend and straightaway, every dip and pothole, the bark of every watchdog, the sweet bovine aroma of every pasture. ~ Daniel Silva, #NFDB
1313:Sonnet Xxxviii
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ' Oh, list,'
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed !
That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, ' My love, my own.'
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1314:Shrieking, slithering, torrential shadows of red viscous madness chasing one another through endless, ensanguined corridors of purple fulgurous sky . . . formless phantasms and kaleidoscopic mutations of a ghoulish, remembered scene; forests of monstrous overnourished oaks with serpent roots twisting and sucking unnamable juices from an earth verminous with millions of cannibal devils; mound-like tentacles groping from underground nuclei of polypous perversion . . . insane lightning over malignant ivied walls and daemon arcades choked with fungous vegetation. . . . Heaven be thanked for the instinct which led me unconscious to places where men dwell; to the peaceful village that slept under the calm stars of clearing skies. ~ H P Lovecraft, #NFDB
1315:A far cicada rings high and clear over the river’s heavy wash. Morning glory, a lone dandelion, cassia, orchids. So far from the nearest sea, I am taken aback by the sight of a purple land crab, like a relict of the ancient days when the Indian subcontinent, adrift on the earth’s mantle, moved northward to collide with the Asian landmass, driving these marine rocks, inch by inch, five miles into the skies. The rise of the Himalaya, begun in the Eocene, some fifty million years ago, is still continuing: an earthquake in 1959 caused mountains to fall into the rivers and changed the course of the great Brahmaputra, which comes down out of Tibet through northeastern India to join the Ganges near its delta at the Bay of Bengal. ~ Peter Matthiessen, #NFDB
1316:His unfinished book had become his obsession. He rarely left his room, which he insulated with sheaves of paper scribbled with beginnings and endings, nailing ideas to the walls and stretching long strips of sentences from the window to the door. Tall stacks of scenes and chapters sprouted from the floor, as if the papers had reincarnated themselves back into trees. The paper forest around him glimmered in the sun from the windows, weaving rays of light in yellow and purple and blue. Hunger squeezed his throat, but he turned his ravenousness toward writing. He almost never slept. During the shortages, he wrote between the columns of old newspapers, or on pieces of cardboard, or on bark pulled from trees. He traded potatoes for ink. ~ Dara Horn, #NFDB
1317:office, something that’s invisible to my vaunted powers. Crap. Where’s my gun? After backtracking, Myfanwy picked up her gun from the dust and listened carefully. Deathly silence. Feeling slightly absurd but still scared, she held her gun in two hands and jumped smoothly around the corner, landing in a position that implied she was prepared to open fire on whatever she saw. “Oh, thank God.” Not to worry, it’s not a weird monster. It’s just three rotting dead people, she thought as she threw up on her cute little gun. After wiping her mouth and then shaking the pistol to clear some vomit off it, she approached the corpses cautiously. All of them were dressed in purple garments, though they were now sodden in body fluids. Nasty. ~ Daniel O Malley, #NFDB
1318:Be courteous, kind, and forgiving. Be gentle and peaceful each day. Be warm and human and grateful, And have a good thing to say. Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike, Be witty and happy and wise. Be honest and love all your neighbors, Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant. Be pompous, obese, and eat cactus. Be dull and boring and omnipresent. Criticize things you don’t know about. Be oblong and have your knees removed. Be sure to stop at stop signs, And drive fifty-five miles an hour. Pick up hitchhikers foaming at the mouth, And when you get home get a master’s degree in geology. Be tasteless, rude, and offensive. Live in a swamp and be three-dimensional. Put a live chicken in your underwear. Go into a closet and suck eggs. ~ Steve Martin, #NFDB
1319:I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote - bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant - the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me - to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to him. ~ Stephenie Meyer, #NFDB
1320:The nature of the precious liquid from which purple came would not be entirely understood for another two millennia. In 1826, a twenty-three-year-old student at the Ecole de Pharmacie, Antoine Jérôme Balard, after studying the composition of salt marshes, concluded that the blackish-purplish, foul-smelling liquid present in marsh water, the residue water from which salt crystals had formed, was a previously unidentified chemical element. Because the liquid was identical to the purple secretion of the murex, he named the new element muride. The Académie Française, wary of having major discoveries come from students, thought at the least it should not let him give the name. So they changed muride to bromine, a word meaning “stench. ~ Mark Kurlansky, #NFDB
1321:Alma came to admire sailors. She could not imagine how they endured such long periods of time away from the comforts of land. How did they not go mad? The ocean both stunned and disturbed her. Nothing had ever put more of an impression upon her being. It seemed to her the very distillation of matter, the very masterpiece of mysteries. One night they sailed through a diamond field of liquid phosphorescence. The ship churned up strange molecules of green and purple light as it moved, until it appeared that the Elliot was dragging a long glowing veil behind herself, wide across the sea. It was so beautiful that Alma wondered how the men did not throw themselves into the water, drawn down to their deaths by this intoxicating magic. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert, #NFDB
1322:Gavin appeared and vanished numerous times each day checking up on me. Now and then he’d randomly pop the question, often disguising it within our conversations.
“Did you know that bubbleberries are in season right now? They’re blooming all over Dreamland.”
“I love those berries. They’re fun and strange.” I recalled the time that Gavin and I had burped up iridescent-purple bubbles after swallowing handfuls of berries. They were deliciously sweet.
Gavin nudged me with his elbow. “Not half as strange as you are.”
I laughed.
“So, Annabelle, will you come with me?” I nearly spoke without thinking, but caught myself, careful not to slip and say the word, yes.
“Sorry, Gavin. I can’t. ~ Richelle E Goodrich,#NFDB
1323:It is because we understand you, Toblakai, that we do not set the Hounds upon you. You bear your destiny like a standard, a grisly one, true, but then, its only distinction is in being obvious. Did you know that we too left civilization behind? The scribblers were closing in on all sides, you see. The clerks with their purple tongues and darting eyes, their shuffling feet and sloped shoulders, their bloodless lists. Oh, measure it all out! Acceptable levels of misery and suffering!’ The cane swung down, thumped hard on the ground. ‘Acceptable? Who the fuck says any level is acceptable? What sort of mind thinks that?’
Karsa grinned. ‘Why, a civilized one.’
‘Indeed!’ Shadowthrone turned to Cotillion. ‘And you doubted this one! ~ Steven Erikson,#NFDB
1324:Sonnet Lxxxiii. The Sea View
THE upland shepherd, as reclined he lies
On the soft turf that clothes the mountain brow,
Marks the bright sea-line mingling with the skies;
Or from his course celestial, sinking slow,
The summer-sun in purple radiance low,
Blaze on the western waters; the wide scene
Magnificent, and tranquil, seems to spread
Even o'er the rustic's breast a joy serene,
When, like dark plague-spots by the demons shed,
Charged deep with death, upon the waves, far seen,
Move the war-freighted ships; and fierce and red,
Flash their destructive fires--The mangled dead
And dying victims then pollute the flood.
Ah, thus man spoils Heaven's glorious works with blood!
~ Charlotte Smith,#NFDB
1325:River Roads
Let the crows go by hawking their caw and caw.
They have been swimming in midnights of coal mines somewhere.
Let 'em hawk their caw and caw.
Let the woodpecker drum and drum on a hickory stump.
He has been swimming in red and blue pools somewhere hundreds of years
And the blue has gone to his wings and the red has gone to his head.
Let his red head drum and drum.
Let the dark pools hold the birds in a looking-glass.
And if the pool wishes, let it shiver to the blur of many wings, old swimmers from
old places.
Let the redwing streak a line of vermillion on the green wood lines.
And the mist along the river fix its purple in lines of a woman's shawl on lazy
shoulders.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1326:The Lurking Fear:
Shrieking, slithering, torrential shadows of red viscous madness chasing one another through endless, ensanguined condors of purple fulgurous sky... formless phantasms and kaleidoscopic mutations of a ghoulish, remembered scene; forests of monstrous over-nourished oaks with serpent roots twisting and sucking unnamable juices from an earth verminous with millions of cannibal devils; mound-like tentacles groping from underground nuclei of polypous perversion... insane lightning over malignant ivied walls and demon arcades choked with fungous vegetation... Heaven be thanked for the instinct which led me unconscious to places where men dwell; to the peaceful village that slept under the calm stars of clearing skies. ~ H P Lovecraft,#NFDB
1327:Yakov spent the whole day playing his fiddle; when it got completely dark, he took the notebook in which he recorded his losses daily, and out of boredom began adding up the yearly total. It came to over a thousand roubles. This astounded him so much that he flung the abacus to the floor and stamped his feet. Then he picked up the abacus, again clicked away for a long time, and sighed deeply and tensely. His face was purple and wet with sweat. He thought that if he could have put that lost thousand roubles in the bank, he would have earned at least forty roubles a year in interest. And therefore those forty roubles were a loss. In short, wherever you turned, there was nothing but losses everywhere.
- Rothchild's Fiddle ~ Anton Chekhov,#NFDB
1328:Edward stood, motionless as a statue, just a few feet from the mouth of the alley. His eyes were closed, the rings underneath them deep purple, his arms relaxed at his sides, his palms turned forward. His expression was very peaceful, like he was dreaming pleasant things. The marble skin of his chest was bare―there was a small pile of white fabric at his feet. The light reflecting from the pavement of the square gleamed dimly from his skin.
I'd never seen anything more beautiful―even as I ran, gasping and screaming, I could appreciate that. And the last seven months meant nothing. And his words in the forest meant nothing. And it did not matter if he did not want me. I would never want anything but him, no matter how long I lived. ~ Stephenie Meyer,#NFDB
1329:it could be argued that it actually began thousands of years ago. Long before the Marxists came. Before the British took Malabar, before the Dutch Ascendency, before Vasco da Gama arrived, before the Zamorin’s conquest of Calicut. Before three purple-robed Syrian Bishops murdered by the Portuguese were found floating in the sea, with coiled sea serpents riding on their chests and oysters knotted in their tangled beards. It could be argued that it began long before Christianity arrived in a boat and seeped into Kerala like tea from a teabag. That it really began in the days when the Love Laws were made. The laws that lay down who should be loved, and how. And how much. HOWEVER, for practical purposes, in a hopelessly practical world . . ~ Arundhati Roy, #NFDB
1330:Eggs will come through on a little conveyor belt—here! I’ll draw it.” “I want to draw some breakfast,” Dessie said. “What’s the shape of a fried egg? How would you color the fat and lean of a strip of bacon?” “You’ll have it,” he cried, and he opened the stove lid and assaulted the fire with the stove lifter until the hairs on his hand curled and charred. He pitched wood in and started his high whistling. Dessie said, “You sound like some goat-foot with a wheat flute on a hill in Greece.” “What do you think I am?” he shouted. Dessie thought miserably, If his is real, why can’t my heart be light? Why can’t I climb out of my gray ragbag? I will, she screeched inside herself. If he can—I will. She said, “Tom!” “Yes.” “I want a purple egg. ~ John Steinbeck, #NFDB
1331:Opals
My soul is like this cloudy, flaming opal ring.
The fields of earth are in it, green and glimmering,
The waves of the blue sky, night's purple flower of noon,
The vanishing cold scintillations of the moon,
And the red heart that is a flame within a flame.
And as the opal dies, and is re-born the same,
And all the fire that is its life-blood seems to dart
Through the veined variable intricacies of its heart,
And ever wandering ever wanders back again,
So must my swift soul constant to itself remain.
Opal, have I not been as variable as you?
But, cloudy opal flaming green and red and blue,
Are you not ever constant in your varying,
Even as my soul, O captive opal of my ring?
~ Arthur Symons,#NFDB
1332:The Plateau
It was the silver, heart-enveloping view
Of the mysterious sea-line far away,
Seen only on a gleaming gold-white day,
That made it dear and beautiful to you.
And Laura loved it for the little hill,
Where the quartz sparkled fire, barren and dun,
Whence in the shadow of the dying sun,
She contemplated Hallow's wooden mill.
While Danny liked the sheltering high grass,
In which he lay upon a clear dry night,
To hear and see, screened skilfully from sight,
The happy lovers of the valley pass.
But oh! I loved it for the big round moon
That swung out of the clouds and swooned aloft,
Burning with passion, gloriously soft,
Lighting the purple flowers of fragrant June.
~ Claude McKay,#NFDB
1333:Landsman and Bina were married to each other for twelve years and together for five before that. Each was the other's first lover, first betrayer, first refuge, first roommate, first audience, first person to turn to when something -- even the marriage itself -- went wrong. For half their lives they tangled their histories, bodies, phobias, theories, recipes, libraries, record collections. They mounted spectacular arguments, nose-to-nose, hands flying, spittle flying, throwing things, kicking things, breaking things, rolling around on the ground grabbing up fistfuls of each other's hair. The next day he would bear the red moons of Bina's nails in his cheeks and on the meat of his chest, and she wore his purple fingerprints like an armlet. ~ Michael Chabon, #NFDB
1334:love poem to a stripper 50 years ago I watched the girls shake it and strip at The Burbank and The Follies and it was very sad and very dramatic as the light turned from green to purple to pink and the music was loud and vibrant, now I sit here tonight smoking and listening to classical music but I still remember some of their names: Darlene, Candy, Jeanette and Rosalie. Rosalie was the best, she knew how, and we twisted in our seats and made sounds as Rosalie brought magic to the lonely so long ago. now Rosalie either so very old or so quiet under the earth, this is the pimple-faced kid who lied about his age just to watch you. you were good, Rosalie in 1935, good enough to remember now when the light is yellow and the nights are slow. ~ Charles Bukowski, #NFDB
1335:The Wind Sings Welcome In Early Spring
(For Paula)THE GRIP of the ice is gone now.
The silvers chase purple.
The purples tag silver.
They let out their runners
Here where summer says to the lilies:
'Wish and be wistful,
Circle this wind-hunted, wind-sung water.'
Come along always, come along now.
You for me, kiss me, pull me by the ear.
Push me along with the wind push.
Sing like the whinnying wind.
Sing like the hustling obstreperous wind.
Have you ever seen deeper purple ...
this in my wild wind fingers?
Could you have more fun with a pony or a goat?
Have you seen such flicking heels before,
Silver jig heels on the purple sky rim?
Come along always, come along now.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1336:Like seeing roasted meat and other dishes in front of you and suddenly realizing: This is a dead fish. A dead bird. A dead pig. Or that this noble vintage is grape juice, and the purple robes are sheep wool dyed with shellfish blood. Or making love—something rubbing against your penis, a brief seizure and a little cloudy liquid. Perceptions like that—latching onto things and piercing through them, so we see what they really are. That’s what we need to do all the time—all through our lives when things lay claim to our trust—to lay them bare and see how pointless they are, to strip away the legend that encrusts them. Pride is a master of deception: when you think you’re occupied in the weightiest business, that’s when he has you in his spell. ~ Marcus Aurelius, #NFDB
1337:Sonnet 26 - I Lived With Visions For My Company
XXVI
I lived with visions for my company
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweeter music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes. Then THOU didst come—to be,
Beloved, what they seemed. Their shining fronts,
Their songs, their splendors (better, yet the same,
As river-water hallowed into fonts),
Met in thee, and from out thee overcame
My soul with satisfaction of all wants:
Because God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1338:The last time we saw you, you had that teddy bear permanently attached to your side, didn’t you? What was his name again? Mr. Boo? Mr. Boony?”
Megan turned purple as the boys snickered. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Her teddy bear?
“John,” Regina said in a warning tone.
“I don’t really…remember,” Megan lied. Everyone was staring at her.
“Oh yes, you do! You wouldn’t put that thing down for the world!” John’s voice boomed. “Mr. Binky? Mr.--”
“Mr. Boogie,” she said.
The laughter was deafening.
“Yes! Mr. Boogie! I remember because you kept making him kiss me,” John said gleefully. “You still have that thing?”
“Um…no,” Megan lied. Mr. Boogie was tucked snugly at the bottom of her suitcase. ~ Kate Brian,#NFDB
1339:A few moments later, Captain O’ Devir was back aboard the ship with the aid of a rope thrown down for him to scale, his inky black hair streaming water down his broad back, the shirt plastered wetly to the skin beneath, his angular features and prominent cheekbones defined all the more with his hair soaked and flattened to his skull. Someone pressed a towel into his hand, and he scrubbed vigorously at his face and hair for a moment before looking up; at that moment, his intense, purple-violet gaze met Nerissa’s through those absurdly long black lashes and something tingled in her belly. Lodged itself in her heart. He had said nothing, and yet with that look, he had said everything. He winked roguishly at her. She flushed and dropped her gaze. ~ Danelle Harmon, #NFDB
1340:Of course, you think you love him. You're barely twenty-five years old. You're liable to think a lot of things." Lillian sat stiffly in her wheelchair, her gaze fixed on her granddaughter. "I thought you had some sense in that pretty head. Or you would at least, at some point, wake up and smell the coffee."
Sara crossed her arms over her chest. "I did wake up and smell the coffee. Just this morning. Luke makes wonderful coffee. He uses fresh beans."
Lillian made a sour face. "Please! Spare me the details of your honeymoon. Too much information, as the teenagers say."
Lillian appeared to have recovered her energy for arguing, despite her casts and the bruise around her eye that had turned an amazing shade of bluish purple. ~ Thomas Kinkade,#NFDB
1341:Sonnet Xxxviii: First Time He Kissed Me
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The finger of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its "Oh, list,"
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!
That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, "My love, my own."
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1342:The Luxembourg is within five minutes’ walk of the rue Notre Dame des Champs, and there he sat under the shadow of a winged god, and there he had sat for an hour, poking holes in the dust and watching the steps which lead from the northern terrace to the fountain. The sun hung, a purple globe, above the misty hills of Meudon. Long streamers of clouds touched with rose swept low on the western sky, and the dome of the distant Invalides burned like an opal through the haze. Behind the Palace the smoke from a high chimney mounted straight into the air, purple until it crossed the sun, where it changed to a bar of smouldering fire. High above the darkening foliage of the chestnuts the twin towers of St. Sulpice rose, an ever-deepening silhouette. ~ Robert W Chambers, #NFDB
1343:She's always sniffing the bottles in the spice cabinet."
I didn't know she'd even noticed. At first it was just curiosity; why did fennel and cumin, identical twins, have such opposing personalities? I had crushed the seeds beneath my fingertips, where the scents lingered for hours. Another day I'd opened a bottle of nutmeg, startled when the little spheres came rattling out in a mothball-scented cloud. How could something so delicate have such a ferocious smell? And I watched, fascinated, as the supple, plump, purple vanilla beans withered into brittle pods and surrendered their perfume to the air. The spices were all so interesting; it was impossible to walk through the kitchen without opening the cupboard to find out what was going on in there. ~ Ruth Reichl,#NFDB
1344:soon as he finished up here, he intended to ride out and pick a big bundle of those purple flowers, tie their stems together with a length of yellow ribbon he’d purchased a month ago because the color had reminded him of Sadie’s shining hair, and he’d hand ’em right over in front of everybody tonight when she finished her final song. His heart set up a double beat just thinking about how she’d blush pink and give him her special smile. Then, while she was smiling and feeling appreciative, he’d take her aside and set her straight on how he felt about her and how much her paying attention to the sheriff hurt him. He and Sadie had a relationship years in the making. She’d only known the sheriff a few weeks. She’d pick him over McKane. He just knew it. ~ Kim Vogel Sawyer, #NFDB
1345:A Hall
The road led straight to the temple.
Notre Dame, though not Gothic at all.
The huge doors were closed. I chose one on the side,
Not to the main building-to its left wing,
The one in green copper, worn into gaps below.
I pushed. Then it was revealed:
An astonishing large hall, in warm light.
Great statues of sitting women-goddesses,
In draped robes, marked it with a rhythm.
Color embraced me like the interior of a purple-brown flower
Of unheard-of size. I walked, liberated
From worries, pangs of conscience, and fears.
I knew I was there as one day I would be.
I woke up serene, thinking that this dream
Answers my question, often asked:
How is it when one passes the last threshold?
~ Czeslaw Milosz,#NFDB
1346:A Solemn Thing&Mdash;It Was&Mdash;I Said
271
A solemn thing—it was—I said—
A woman—white—to be—
And wear—if God should count me fit—
Her blameless mystery—
A hallowed thing—to drop a life
Into the purple well—
Too plummetless—that it return—
Eternity—until—
I pondered how the bliss would look—
And would it feel as big—
When I could take it in my hand—
As hovering—seen—through fog—
And then—the size of this "small" life—
The Sages—call it small—
Swelled—like Horizons—in my vest—
And I sneered—softly—"small"!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1347:On occasion, it occurs to adults that they are allowed to do all the things that being a child prevented them from doing. But those desires change when you're not looking. There was a time when your favorite color transferred from purple to blue to whatever shade it is when you realize having a favorite color is a trite personality crutch, an unstable cultivation of quirk and a possible cry for help. You just don't notice the time of your own metamorphosis. Until you do. Every once in a while time dissolves and you remember what you liked as a kid. You jump on your hotel bed, order dessert first, decide to put every piece of jewelry you own on your body and leave the house. Why? Because you can. Because you're the boss. Because . . . Ooooh. Shiny. ~ Sloane Crosley, #NFDB
1348:The taste of New England ran not to black or gray, but to “sadd colors” as they were called in the seventeenth century. A list of these “sadd colors” in 1638 included “liver color, de Boys, tawney, russet, purple, French green, ginger lyne, deer colour, orange.” Other sad colors were called “gridolin” from the French gris de lin (“flax blossom”). Still others were called puce, folding color, Kendall green, Lincoln green, barry, milly and tuly. Specially favored was russet, and a color called philly mort from the French feuille morte (“dead leaf”). One country gentleman from the east of England, Oliver Cromwell, made these “sad colors” into a badge of virtue when he celebrated his “plain russet-coated captain that knows what he fights for and loves what he knows. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1349:There are times when Los Angeles is the most magical city on Earth. When the Santa Ana winds sweep through and the air is warm and so, so clear. When the jacaranda trees bloom in the most brilliant lilac violet. When the ocean sparkles on a warm February day and you're pushing fine grains of sand through your bare toes while the rest of the country is hunkered down under blankets slurping soup. But other times, like when the jacaranda trees drop their blossoms in an eerie purple rain, Los Angeles feels like only a half-formed dream. Like perhaps the city was founded as a strip mall in the early 1970s and has no real reason to exist. An afterthought from the designer of some other, better city. A playground made only for attractive people to eat expensive salads. ~ Steven Rowley, #NFDB
1350:Have you always had this?” He pointed to a purple bruise that showed up the day I met him. “No. It just appeared.” I answered confused. He turned his palm upward to show me a similar mark on his palm. “We were meant to be.” He whispered and placed his palm over mine. Our marks were exactly in the same place; the place where his palm and my palm touched the first day we met. I barely whispered, “Brandon, I don’t understand.” The dizzy, lightheaded feeling was back. Brandon obviously didn’t understand the concept of personal space either as he pulled himself even closer to me. “I know. I’m sorry. We don’t have much time. You’re in danger.” “What do …” I started to lean back, but Brandon’s hands clasped to either side of my face and he pressed his smooth lips to mine. ~ Jordan Deen, #NFDB
1351:Ignorant: a state of not knowing what a pronoun is, or how to find the square root of 27.4, and merely knowing childish and useless things like which of the seventy almost identical-looking species of the purple sea snake are the deadly ones, how to treat the poisonous pith of the Sago-sago tree to make a nourishing gruel, how to foretell the weather by the movements of the tree-climbing Burglar Crab, how to navigate across a thousand miles of featureless ocean by means of a piece of string and a small clay model of your grandfather, how to get essential vitamins from the liver of the ferocious Ice Bear, and other such trivial matters. It’s a strange thing that when everyone becomes educated, everyone knows about the pronoun but no one knows about the Sago-sago. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
1352:He saw then that there was a lens at one end, disguised as a dewdrop in the throat of an asphodel. Gently he took the egg in his hands, closed one eye, and looked. The light of the interior was not, as he had half expected, gold tinted, but brilliantly white, deriving from some concealed source. A world surely meant for Earth shone within, as though seen from below the orbit of the moon—indigo sea and emerald land. Rivers brown and clear as tea ran down long plains. His mother said, “Isn’t it pretty?” Night hung at the corners in funereal purple, and sent long shadows like cold and lovely arms to caress the day; and while he watched and it fell, long-necked birds of so dark a pink that they were nearly red trailed stilt legs across the sky, their wings making crosses. ~ Gene Wolfe, #NFDB
1353:Apotheosised, transfigured by wisdom's touch,
Her days became a luminous sacrifice;
An immortal moth in happy and endless fire,
She burned in his sweet intolerable blaze.
A captive Life wedded her conqueror.
In his wide sky she built her world anew;
She gave to mind's calm pace the motor's speed,
To thinking a need to live what the soul saw,
To living an impetus to know and see.
His splendour grasped her, her puissance to him clung;
She crowned the Idea a king in purple robes,
Put her magic serpent sceptre in Thought's grip,
Made forms his inward vision's rhythmic shapes
And her acts the living body of his will.
A flaming thunder, a creator flash,
His victor Light rode on her deathless Force;
~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Glory and the Fall of Life,#NFDB
1354:I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
First published in The National Observer 13th December 1890
~ William Butler Yeats, The Lake Isle Of Innisfree
,#NFDB
1355:Sometimes he comes to me in my dreams, and I wonder if ironically all our stories were written on his skin back there in Texas City in 1947. Or maybe that's just poetic illusion purchased by time. But even in the middle of an Indian summer's day, when the sugarcane is beaten with purple and gold light in the fields and the sun is both warm and cool on your skin at the same time, when I know that the earth is a fine place after all, I have to mourn just a moment for those people of years ago who lived lives they did not choose, who carried burdens that were not their own, whose invisible scars were as private as the scarlet beads of Sister Roberta's rosary wrapped across the back of her small hand, as bright as drops of blood ringed round the souls of little people. ~ James Lee Burke, #NFDB
1356:I thought for our last session we should celebrate spring," Lillian said, coming out of the kitchen with a large blue bowl in her hands. "The first green things coming up through soft earth. I've always thought the year begins in the spring rather than January, anyway. I like the idea of taking the first asparagus of the year, picked right that day, and putting it in a warm, creamy risotto. It celebrates both seasons and takes you from one to the next in just a few bites."
They passed the bowl around the table, using the large silver spoon to serve generous helpings. The salad bowl came next, fresh Bibb lettuce and purple onions and orange slices, touched with oil and lemon and orange juice. Then a bread basket, heaped high with slices of fragrant, warm bread. ~ Erica Bauermeister,#NFDB
1357:And in the kisses, what deep sweetness! There are women's mouths that seem to ignite with love the breath that opens them. Whether they are reddened by blood richer than purple, or frozen by the pallor of agony, whether they are illuminated by the goodness of consent or darkened by the shadow of disdain, they always carry within them an enigma that disturbs men of intellect, and attracts them and captivates them. A constant discord between the expression of the lips and that of the eyes generates the mystery; it seems as if a duplicitous soul reveals itself there with a different beauty, happy and sad, cold and passionate, cruel and merciful, humble and proud, laughing and mocking; and the abiguity arouses discomfort in the spirit that takes pleasure in dark things. ~ Gabriele D Annunzio, #NFDB
1358:He saw her draw closer in the mirror. Her black hair was an ink splash against the white tile walls. She paused behind him. “You protected me, Kaz.”
“The fact that you’re bleeding through your bandages tells me otherwise.”
She glanced down. A red blossom of blood had spread on the bandage tied around her shoulder. She tugged awkwardly at the strip of towel. “I need Nina to fix this one.”
He didn’t mean to say it. He meant to let her go. “I can help you.”
Her gaze snapped to his in the mirror, wary as if gauging an opponent. I can help you. They were the first words she’d spoken to him, standing in the parlor of the Menagerie, draped in purple silk, eyes lined in kohl. She had helped him. And she’d nearly destroyed him. Maybe he should let her finish the job. ~ Leigh Bardugo,#NFDB
1359:Artists are the flowers of our world. The best ones are those that can stand out from the crowd and create their own concrete garden -- to move us, inspire us, and makes us think hard. A flower with no smell to it is just something to look at. However, a flower that emits a beautiful fragrance is the one we want in our homes and on our walls. Your mission as an artist, is to become the best-smelling flower in the world, so that when the day finally comes when you are plucked from the ground, the world will cry for the loss of your mind-stimulating fragrance. Be different. Be original. Nobody will remember a specific flower in garden loaded with thousands of the same flower, but they will remember the one that managed to change its color to purple.
Truth Is Crying, 2008 ~ Suzy Kassem,#NFDB
1360:Sonnet 38 - First Time He Kissed Me, He But Only
Kissed
XXXVIII
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its 'Oh, list,'
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!
That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, 'My love, my own.'
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
1361:From time to time she tasted his food. The sausage was delicious, seasoned with ginger and spices. His sides were all buttery and rich- the mushrooms sautéed in butter, the tattie scones cooked in butter. She tried the black pudding with trepidation. It wasn't her favorite item, but it wasn't awful. It tasted a bit like liverwurst mixed with oatmeal. All of his dishes were rich and heavy. She had to lighten up their menu.
Her vegetables looked beautiful- red and yellow tomatoes, grilled Portobello mushrooms, purple potatoes. Colorful, bright, bursting with flavor. She prepared an orange marmalade, another Scottish specialty, and paired it with crispy challah toast. Cady and Em would have loved that part. The fruit salad was all citrus and lemon basil. The sauce fruity and tart. ~ Penny Watson,#NFDB
1362:Looking at Christ there above the desert he couldn't stand it any longer on the train. Dead men were on that train dead men or live men and he wasn't either so he had no business being there. He had no business being anywhere there was no place for him he was forgotten and abandoned and left forever alone. So he jumped out of the train right through the window and started running toward Christ.
The nightmare train went on through the sunlight its whistle screeching and the dead men inside laughing. But he was alone in the desert running running till his lungs squeaked running toward Christ who floated there in the heat with purple robes. He ran and he ran and he ran and finally he came up to Christ. He threw himself into the hot sand at the feet of Christ and began to cry. ~ Dalton Trumbo,#NFDB
1363:The Butterfly
VIATOR loquitur
'Royal in purple and gold and red,
Free, and unknowing sorrow,
Blithely and lithely to and fro,
With flowers for thy choosing still a-blow,
Flaunt through the idle noon:
But the day is short and the summer sped,
And alas for the end of joy so soon;
The days are short and the rose is dead,
And thou wilt be dying to-morrow.'
BUTTERFLY loquitur
'Sunshine and blossoms are on my way;
What is thy talk of sorrow?
Blithe on the wing, with the flowers for rest,
Hither and thither as likes me best:
Oh! the joy of the while!
Minutes are many to bask and to play,
The earth is glad and the blue skies smile;
Minutes are many and joy is to-day;
Dying is far till to-morrow.'
~ Augusta Davies Webster,#NFDB
1364:Sonnet Lxix
Written at the same place, on seeing a Seaman return
who had been imprisoned at Rochfort.
CLOUDS, gold and purple, o'er the western ray
Threw a bright veil, and catching lights between,
Fell on the glancing sail, that we had seen
With soft, but adverse winds, throughout the day
Contending vainly: as the vessel nears,
Increasing numbers hail it from the shore;
Lo! on the deck a pallid form appears,
Half wondering to behold himself once more
Approach his home--And now he can discern
His cottage thatch amid surrounding trees;
Yet, trembling, dreads lest sorrow or disease
Await him there, embittering his return:
But all he loves are safe; with heart elate,
Though poor and plunder'd, he absolves his fate!
~ Charlotte Smith,#NFDB
1365:His sudden and utterly overwhelming panic was over almost before it began; but not quickly enough. In the midst of his brief yet total terror, the King of Pontus shat himself. It went everywhere, solid faeces mixed with what seemed an incredible amount of more liquid bowel contents, a stinking brown mess all over the gold-encrusted purple cloth of his cushion, trickling down the legs of his throne, running down his own legs into the manes of the golden lions upon the flaps of his boots, pooling and plopping on the deck around his feet when he jumped up. And there was nowhere to go! He could not conceal it from the amazed eyes of his attendants and officers, he could not conceal it from the sailors below amidships who had looked up instinctively to make sure their King was safe. ~ Colleen McCullough, #NFDB
1366:Eating Bamboo Shoots
My new province is a land of bamboo-groves:
Their shoots in spring fill the valleys and hills.
The mountain woodman cuts an armful of them
And brings them down to sell at the early market.
Things are cheap in proportion as they are common;
For two farthings, I buy a whole bundle.
I put the shoots in a great earthen pot
And heat them up along with boiling rice.
The purple nodules broken – like an old brocade;
The white skin opened – like new pearls.
Now every day I eat them recklessly;
For a long time I have not touched meat.
All the time I was living at Lo-yang
They could not give me enough to suit my taste,
Now I can have as many shoots as I please;
For each breath of the south-wind makes a new bamboo
~ Bai Juyi,#NFDB
1367:For I dipt into the future,
far as human eye could see,
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be;
Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales;
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there raind a ghastly dew
From the nations airy navies grappling in the central blue;
Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm,
With the standards of the peoples plunging thro the thunder-storm;
Till the war-drums throbbd, no longer, and the battle-flags were furled
In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.
There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe,
And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law. ~ Alfred Tennyson,#NFDB
1368:The field was carpeted with the most lustrous show of wildflowers she had ever seen—flowers by the hundreds, the thousands, the millions. Purple irises. White lilies. Pink daisies. Yellow buttercups and red columbines and many others she knew no names for. A breeze had arisen; the sun had broken through the clouds. She shrugged off her pack and walked slowly forward. It was as if she were wading into a sea of pure color. The tips of her fingers brushed the petals of the flowers as she passed. They seemed to bow their heads in salutation, welcoming her into their embrace. In a trance of beauty, Amy moved among them. Corridors of golden sunshine fell over the field; far away, across the sea, a new age had begun.
Here she would make her garden. She would make her garden, and wait. ~ Justin Cronin,#NFDB
1369:Eulalie
I dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing brideTill the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.
Ah, less- less bright
The stars of the night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
That the vapor can make
With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curlCan compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless
curl.
Now Doubt- now Pain
Come never again,
For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
And all day long
Shines, bright and strong,
Astarte within the sky,
While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eyeWhile ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
~ Edgar Allan Poe,#NFDB
1370:I.
Hopes, that swell in youthful breasts,
Live not through the waste of time!
Loves rose a host of thorns invests;
Cold, ungenial is the clime,
Where its honours blow.
Youth says, The purple flowers are mine,
Which die the while they glow.
II.
Dear the boon to Fancy given,
Retracted whilst its granted:
Sweet the rose which lives in Heaven,
Although on earth tis planted,
Where its honours blow,
While by earths slaves the leaves are riven
Which die the while they glow.
III.
Age cannot Love destroy,
But perfidy can blast the flower,
Even when in most unwary hour
It blooms in Fancys bower.
Age cannot Love destroy,
But perfidy can rend the shrine
In which its vermeil splendours shine.
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Loves Rose
,#NFDB
1371:Phoenix Lyrics
If nature is life, nature is death:
It is winter as it is spring:
Confusion is variety, variety
And confusion in everything
Make experience the true conclusion
Of all desire and opulence,
All satisfaction and poverty.
II
When a hundred years had passed nature seemed to man
a clock
Another century sank away and nature seemed a jungle
in a rock
And now that nature has become a ticking and hidden
bomb how we must mock
Newton, Democritus, the Deity
The heart's ingenuity and the mind's infinite
uncontrollable
insatiable curiosity.
III
Purple black cloud at sunset: it is late August
and the light begins to look cold, and as we look,
listen and look, we hear the first drums of autumn.
~ Delmore Schwartz,#NFDB
1372:We'd never seen anything as green as these rice paddies. It was not just the paddies themselves: the surrounding vegetation - foliage so dense the trees lost track of whose leaves were whose - was a rainbow coalition of one colour: green. There was an infinity of greens, rendered all the greener by splashes of red hibiscus and the herons floating past, so white and big it seemed as if sheets hung out to dry had suddenly taken wing. All other colours - even purple and black - were shades of green. Light and shade were degrees of green. Greenness, here, was less a colour than a colonising impulse. Everything was either already green - like a snake, bright as a blade of grass, sidling across the footpath - or in the process of becoming so. Statues of the Buddha were mossy, furred with green. ~ Geoff Dyer, #NFDB
1373:Not an hour after Olivia was found, Portia and her mother were in the family's ancient pickup truck, bumping along the dirt roads of backwater Texas until they came to her grandmother's cafe, a place that had been handed down through generations of Gram's ancestors. The Glass Kitchen. Portia loved how its whitewashed clapboard walls and green tin roof, giant yawning windows, and lattice entwined with purple wisteria made her think of doll houses and thatch-roofed cottages.
Excited to see Gram, Portia jumped out of the old truck and followed her mother in through the front door. The melting-brown-sugar and buttery-cinnamon smells reminded her that The Glass Kitchen was not for play. It was real, a place where people came from miles around to eat and talk with Portia's grandmother. ~ Linda Francis Lee,#NFDB
1374:To put it still more plainly: the desire for security and the feeling of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your breath is to lose your breath. A society based on the quest for security is nothing but a breath-retention contest in which everyone is as taut as a drum and as purple as a beet. We look for this security by fortifying and enclosing ourselves in innumerable ways. We want the protection of being “exclusive” and “special,” seeking to belong to the safest church, the best nation, the highest class, the right set, and the “nice” people. These defenses lead to divisions between us, and so to more insecurity demanding more defenses. Of course it is all done in the sincere belief that we are trying to do the right things and live in the best way; but this, too, is a contradiction. ~ Alan W Watts, #NFDB
1375:Harvest Time
Pillowed and hushed on the silent plain,
Wrapped in her mantle of golden grain,
Wearied of pleasuring weeks away,
Summer is lying asleep to-day,-Where winds come sweet from the wild-rose briers
And the smoke of the far-off prairie fires;
Yellow her hair as the goldenrod,
And brown her cheeks as the prairie sod;
Purple her eyes as the mists that dream
At the edge of some laggard sun-drowned stream;
But over their depths the lashes sweep,
For Summer is lying to-day asleep.
The north wind kisses her rosy mouth,
His rival frowns in the far-off south,
And comes caressing her sunburnt cheek,
And Summer awakes for one short week,-Awakes and gathers her wealth of grain,
Then sleeps and dreams for a year again.
~ Emily Pauline Johnson,#NFDB
1376:She woke from dreamless rest to find her lap filled with wildflowers-blue and gold violets, white starworts with bright yellow centers, wild geraniums, purple heather, pale lavender bellflowers, creamy butterworts...a treasure trove of nature's jewels.
"Where did these come from?" she asked her warrior husband.
He leaned back on his elbows and studied the sea. "Some trolls came by and left them."
"Trolls picking flowers?"
"More believable, surely, than me doing it?"
She laughed and surprised him by competently weaving the summer's late blossoms into a garland for her hair.
"How is it you know how to do that," he asked, "when you are so thoroughly undomestic?"
She threw a purple aster at him and laughed again. "I thought I was managing to conceal that."
"Oh,certainly. ~ Josie Litton,#NFDB
1377:There is probably no other science which presents such different appearances to one who cultivates and one who does not, as mathematics. To [the non-mathematician] it is ancient, venerable, and complete; a body of dry, irrefutable, unambiguous reasoning. To the mathematician, on the other hand, his science is yet in the purple of bloom of vigorous youth, everywhere stretching out after the "attainable but unattained," and full of the excitement of nascent thoughts; its logic is beset with ambiguities, and its analytic processes, like Bunyan's road, have a quagmire on one side and a deep ditch on the other, and branch off into innumerable by-paths that end in a wilderness. ~ C. H. Chapman, Review of Sophus Lie's Theorie der Transformationsgruppen (1892) Bulletin of the New York Mathematical Society 2, p. 61., #NFDB
1378:He dreams he is happy; that his corporeal nature has changed; or at least that he has flown off upon a purple cloud of another sphere peopled by beings of the same kind as himself. Alas! May his illusion last till dawn’s awakening! He dreams the flowers dance round him in a ring like immense demented garlands, and impregnate him with their balmy perfumes while he sings a hymn of love, locked in the arms of a magically beautiful human being. But it is merely twilight mist he embraces, and when he wakes their arms will no longer be entwined. Awaken not, hermaphrodite. Do not wake yet, I beg you. Why will you not believe me? Sleep … sleep forever. May your breast heave while pursuing the chimerical hope of happiness — that I allow you; but do not open your eyes. Ah! do not open your eyes. ~ Comte de Lautr amont, #NFDB
1379:I closed my eyes and took more of those deep breaths Dad was so fond of, thinking that it was no wonder Prodigium were always getting their asses handed to them by humans. I mean, every time I had to do an intense spell, there was all this focusing, and relaxing, and picturing, and breathing...It wasn't exactly the most effective battle strategy against something like The Eye.
I should've known better than to think about The Eye,though. As soon as the name popped into my head, my control shattered.
And so did the terra-cotta pot.
Black soil rained down on my feet, and the purple flower drooped even further. I could have sworn it actually bobbed accusingly at me.
"Ugh," I groaned, as Cal quickly scooped the jagged pot out of my hands. "Sorry,but I warned you I was destructo-girl. ~ Rachel Hawkins,#NFDB
1380:Corn Hut Talk
WRITE your wishes
on the door
and come in.
Stand outside
in the pools of the harvest moon.
Bring in
the handshake of the pumpkins.
There's a wish
for every hazel nut?
There's a hope
for every corn shock?
There's a kiss
for every clumsy climbing shadow?
Clover and the bumblebees once,
high winds and November rain now.
Buy shoes
for rough weather in November.
Buy shirts
to sleep outdoors when May comes.
Buy me
something useless to remember you by.
Send me
a sumach leaf from an Illinois hill.
In the faces marching in the firelog flickers,
In the fire music of wood singing to winter,
Make my face march through the purple and ashes.
Make me one of the fire singers to winter.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1381:The value of experience, real or imagined, is that is shows us how to - or how NOT to - live. In reading about different characters and the consequences of their choices, I was finding myself changed. I was discovering new and distinct ways of undergoing life's sorrows and joys ...
and all the great books I was reading - were about the complexity and entirety of the human experience. About the things we wish to forget and those we want more and more of. About how we react and how we wish we could react. Books ARE experience, the words of authors proving the solace of love, the fulfillment of family, the torment of war, and the wisdom of memory. Joy and tears, pleasure and pain: everything came to me while I read in my purple chair. i had never sat so still, and yet experienced so much. ~ Nina Sankovitch,#NFDB
1382:The twelve with Jesus arrived at the sacred pool, about a hundred yards wide. At its origin, another fifty yards ahead of them, the Springs of Panias gushed out of the Cave of Pan, a large mouth in the red cliff towering a hundred feet over the temple district. A temple of Pan, altars, tombs, and other architecture carved into the very rock, housed a thousand eyes watching Jesus approach them. Inhuman eyes. Jesus held his hand up to the disciples. “Wait here.” They stopped. Jesus walked on. From his position, Simon saw what looked like a high priestess step out of the temple. He could barely see in the waning light, but she wore an elaborate headdress and flowing purple robes. She saw Jesus, turned, and led her entourage of nymphs back into the cave. She was not going to face down her challenger. ~ Brian Godawa, #NFDB
1383:There’s might too in the incomplete. In feeling fractional. A failure to carry out is perhaps no failure at all, but rather a minced metric of splendor. The ongoing. The outlawed. The no-patrol. The act of making loose. Of not doing as you’ve been told. Of betting on miscalculations and cul-de-sacs. Why force conciliation when, from time to time, long-held deep breaths follow what we consider defeat? Why not want a little mania? The shrill of chance, of what’s weird. Of purple hats and hiccups. Endurance is a talent that seldom worries about looking good, and abiding has its virtues even when the tongue dries. The intention shouldn’t only be to polish what we start but to acknowledge that beginning again and again can possess the acquisitive thrill of a countdown that never reaches zero. Groping ~ Durga Chew Bose, #NFDB
1384:You might want to do something about your neck.”
I was totally lost. “My neck?”
She reached into her purse and handed me a compact mirror. I opened it and surveyed my neck, still trying to figure out what she could be talking about. Then I saw it. A small, brownish purple bruise on the side of my neck.
“What on earth is that?” I exclaimed.
Ms. Terwilliger snorted. “Although it’s been a while for me, I believe the technical term is a hickey” She paused and arched an eyebrow. “You do know what that is, don’t you?”
“Of course I know!” I lowered the mirror. “But there’s no way—I mean, we barely—that is—”
She held up a hand to silence me. “You don’t have to justify your private life to me. But you might want to consider how you can actually keep it private in the next fifteen minutes. ~ Richelle Mead,#NFDB
1385:I Dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride-
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride
Ah, less-less bright
The stars of night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
And never a flake
That the vapor can make
With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl-
Can vie compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl
Now Doubt-now Pain
Come never again,
For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
And all day long
Shine, bright and strong,
Astarte within the sky,
While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye-
While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye. ~ Edgar Allan Poe,#NFDB
1386:Farther And Farther From Zero
Suddenly, I fall from the pavilion
into a place where I see the ugliness,
hypocrisy, rouge on a sunken face,
a thorn lodged in a kidney, the blind crone
holding a laurel wreath for the winner,
her black ribbons in shreds,
her eyes dark with purple,
a gold anklet on her shriveled leg.
The puppet show looks charming,
but go behind the screen and watch who runs it.
Wash your hands and face of this charade.
Anyone who wants these prizes
flares up quickly like a wood chip.
There is one who can help,
who turns the wheel from non-existence
to a sweet-breathing emptiness.
Words are ways we add up breath,
counting stress and syllable
with our exacting musical knack
that takes us farther and farther from zero. ~ Rumi,#NFDB
1387:What are your pleasures and pursuits, Lord Moncrieffe?" Miss Eversea asked too brightly, when the silence had gone on for more than was strictly comfortable or polite.
That creaky conversation lubricant. It irritated him again that she was humoring him.
"Well, I'm partial to whores."
Her head whipped toward him like a weather-vane in a hurricane. Her eyes, he noted, were enormous, and such a dark blue they were nearly purple. Her mouth dropped, and the lower lip was quivering with shock or... or...
"Whor... whores...?" She choked out the word as if she'd just inhaled it like bad cigar smoke.
He widened his own eyes with alarm, recoiling slightly.
"I... I beg your pardon - Horses. Honestly, Miss Eversea," he stammered. "I do wonder what you think of me if that's what you heard. ~ Julie Anne Long,#NFDB
1388:Simi rolled back and forth and spun around on Ash’s wheeled desk chair. Dressed in a neon pink lab coat and black and white striped leggings with thigh high laced platform boots that went all the way up to her black lace miniskirt, she was adorable. Her face was mostly covered by a black surgical mask with a matching pink skull and crossbones on the right side of it. Her glowing red eyes were emphasized by her solid jet-black pigtails and dark purple eyeliner. She’d been so excited about the impending birth of the baby, that she’d been dressed that way for a month and shadowing Tory’s every step. If Tory so much as hiccuped, Simi had whipped out a black baseball glove and asked, “is it time yet? The Simi’s gots her glove all ready to catch it if it is, ’cause sometimes they come out flying.”’ – Simi ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon, #NFDB
1389:She has told me everything," Wen went on. "I know that time was made for men, not the other way around. I have learned how to shape it and bend it. I know how to make a moment last forever, because it already has. And I can teach these skills even to you, Clodpool. I have heard the heartbeat of the universe. I know the answers to many questions. Ask me."
The apprentice gave him a bleary look. It was too early in the morning for it to be early int he morning. That was hte only thing that he currently knew for sure.
"Er...what does master want for breakfast?" he said.
Wen looked down from their camp, and across the snowfields and purple mountains to the golden daylight creating the world, and mused upon certain aspects of humanity.
"Ah," he said. "One of the /difficult/ ones. ~ Terry Pratchett,#NFDB
1390:The Splendor Falls
The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.
O love they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field, or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,#NFDB
1391:I looked at Win. Win’s face was as usual unreadable. The woman with the paintball makeup—hard to say an age, could have been an easy fifty or a hard twenty-five, and I was counting on the latter—said to Win, “I live near here.” Win gave her the superior gaze that made people hate him. “In that alley perhaps?” “No,” she said with a big hearty laugh. Win was such a card. “I have a basement flat.” “Must be divine,” Win said in a voice richly marinated in sarcasm. “Oh, it’s nothing special,” Paintball said, not picking up on Win’s tone. “But it’s got a bed.” She pulled up on her pink ’n’ purple leg warmers and winked at Win. “A bed,” she repeated. In case he wasn’t getting the drift. “Sounds enchanting.” “Want to see it?” “Madam”—Win faced her full—“I would rather have my semen removed via a catheter.” Another ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
1392:Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed Nick's free arm. His wet white T-shirt and jeans rippled, and suddenly he was wearing a Day-Glo yellow tank top and acid-washed jeans. "And you look better like this."
(…) As Daisy hooted with laughter, Nick narrowed his eyes at me. "Okay, now you're in for it." He waved his hand, and suddenly I was sweltering. When I glanced down, I saw that it was because I was now dressed like the Easter Bunny. But with the flick of one fuzzy paw, I'd transformed Nick's jeans and tank top into a snowsuit.
Then I was in a bikini.
So Nick was wearing a particularly poofy purple prom dress.
By the time he'd turned my clothes into a showgirl's costume, complete with a feathery headdress, and I'd put him in a scuba suit, we were both completely magic drunk and giggling. ~ Rachel Hawkins,#NFDB
1393:In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook.
The purple petals, fallen in the pool,
Made the black water with their beauty gay;
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,
Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing,
Then Beauty is its own excuse for being:
Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!
I never thought to ask, I never knew:
But, in my simple ignorance, suppose
The self-same Power that brought me there brought you.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Rhodora - On Being Asked, Whence Is The Flower?
,#NFDB
1394:The woods are lovely, dark, and deep," Jess intoned as they took the path down from the parking lot. She had imagined finding a spot to read and meditate, leaving Emily to walk alone for half an hour, but the trees were so tall, and the light filtering down so green that she forgot her stratagem, and her troubles as well. The saplings here were three hundred years old, their bark still purple, their branches supple, foliage feathery in the gloaming. They rose up together with their ancestors, millennia-old redwoods outlasting storms, regenerating after lightning, sending forth new spires from blasted crowns. What did Hegel matter when it came to old-growth? Who cared about world-historical individuals? Not the salamanders or the moss. Not the redwoods, which were prehistoric. Potentially post-historic too. ~ Allegra Goodman, #NFDB
1395:Blow, Bugle, Blow
THE splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,#NFDB
1396:It seemed to Niels that he understood everything: the hardness in her, the dreary humility, and her coarseness, which was the bitterest drop in the whole goblet. By degrees he came to see also that his delicacy and deferential homage must oppress and irritate her, because a woman who has been hurled from the purple couch of her dreams to the pavement below will quickly resent any attempt to spread carpets over the stones which she longs to feel in all their hardness. In her first despair she is not satisfied to tread the path with her feet: she is determined to crawl it on her knees, choosing the way that is steepest and roughest. She desires no helping hand and will not lift her head--let it sink down with its own heaviness, so that she may put her face to the ground and taste the dust with her tongue! ~ Jens Peter Jacobsen, #NFDB
1397:When Richard created the Purple Gentian, the talent for ancient languages that had stunned his schoolmasters at Eton had come to his aid once again. While Sir Percy had pretended to be a fop, Richard bored the French into complacency with long lectures about antiquity. When Frenchmen demanded to know what he was doing in France, and Englishmen reproached him for fraternising with the enemy, Richard opened his eyes wide and proclaimed, ‘But a scholar is a citizen of the world!’ Then he quoted Greek at them. They usually didn’t ask again. Even Gaston Delaroche, the Assistant Minister of Police, who had sworn in blood to be avenged on the Purple Gentian and had the tenacity of…well, of Richard’s mother, had stopped snooping around Richard after being subjected to two particularly knotty passages from the Odyssey. ~ Lauren Willig, #NFDB
1398:You nightmare, gasped and jerk up all at once where I bolt too, hand flown to rest on his kidneys. Confused bedclothes, the sulphurous dark. Worse for you, the same war, another battle so undoing that in daylight you won’t admit it, nothing, nothing, avert and work. His purple-circled eyes could have been anywhere. She sets a pan, quietly, of biscuits. Bring me morning’s water bucket, then turn wordless out. Finished enough, now I will out too, Mr. Whitman in scandalous hand with a leaf to hold my place. Rivering. Greening. It all stops, water too silty and feet booted, she crooks in a moss-tree and is lost, forgets even to ask for moccasins. I have wrapped fear into linen and hoped it into lavender, saved for funerary. At noon he looks; returns, admits. Across the tablecloth can ask Where did you come from. ~ JSA Lowe, #NFDB
1399:While the sound mixing was underway, Bonzo was on the loose, taking care of buisness his own way. One night he showed up backstage at a Deep Purple concert at the Nassau Coliseum on Long Island. Bonzo was drunk and in very high spirits, and was wobbling on his feet in the wings when he noticed a free microphone during a lull in the music. Staggering forward, Bonzo walked out onto the stage before the Deep Purple roadies could grab him. The group stopped playing, amazed, as Bonzo grabbed the mike and shouted, 'My name is John Bonham of Led Zeppelin, and I just wanna tell ya that we got a new album comin' out and that it's fuckin' great!!' Then Bonzo turned to leave, but before he went he turned back and gratuitously insulted Deep Purple's guitarist. 'And as far as Tommy Bolin is concerned, he can't play for shit!! ~ Stephen Davis, #NFDB
1400:We surf-fished in the breakers catching spottail bass and flounder for dinner. I discovered that summer that I loved to cook and feed my friends, and I enjoyed the sound of their praise as they purred with pleasure at the meals I fixed over glowing iron and fire. I had the run of my grandparents’ garden and I would put ears of sweet corn in aluminum foil after washing them in seawater and slathering them with butter and salt and pepper. Beneath the stars we would eat the beefsteak tomatoes okra and the field peas flavored with salt pork and jalapeno peppers. I would walk through the disciplined rows that brimmed with purple eggplants and watermelons and cucumbers, gathering vegetables. My grandfather, Silas, told us that summer that low country earth was so fertile you could drop a dime into it and grow a money tree. ~ Pat Conroy, #NFDB
1401:His face might've been carved by a Greek sculptor, so perfect were his cheekbones, lips, and nose. His eyes were of the clearest azure. His curling hair was the color of polished guineas and quite gorgeous- which the duke obviously knew, since he wore it long, unpowdered, and tied at the nape of his neck with an enormous black bow. He wore an elegant purple velvet coat over a cloth-of-gold waistcoat embroidered in black and crimson. Fountains of lace fell from wrists and throat as he lounged in a winged armchair, one long leg thrust forward. Diamonds on the buckles of his shoes glinted in the candlelight. His Grace was urbane male sophistication personified- but anyone who therefore dismissed him as harmless was a rank fool.
The Duke of Montgomery was as deadly as a coiled adder discovered suddenly at one's feet. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,#NFDB
1402:And the purple parted before it, snapping back like skin after a slash, and what it let out wasn't blood but light: amazing orange light that filled her heart and mind with a terrible mixture of joy, terror, and sorrow. No wonder she had repressed this memory all these years. It was too much. Far too much. The light seemed to give the fading air of evening a silken texture, and the cry of a bird struck her ear like a pebble made of glass. A cap of breeze filled her nostrils with a hundred exotic perfumes: frangipani, bougainvillea, dusty roses, and oh dear God, night-blooming cereus... And rising above one horizon came the orange mansion of the moon, bloated and burning cold, while the sun sank below the other, boiling in a crimson house of fire. She thought that mixture of furious light would kill her with its beauty. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
1403:Do you know what I see in you now? The usual aura. A steady golden yellow, healthy and strong, with spikes of purple here and there. But when I do this. . . .”
He rested a hand on my hip, and my whole body tensed up. That hand moved around my hip, slipping under my shirt to rest on the small of my back. My skin burned where he touched me, and the places that were untouched longed for that heat.
“See?” he said. He was in the throes of spirit now, though with me at the same time. “Well, I guess you can’t. But when I touch you, your aura . . . it smolders. The colors deepen, it burns more intensely, the purple increases. Why? Why, Sydney?” He used that hand on me to pull me closer. “Why do you react that way if I don’t mean anything to you?” There was a desperation in his voice, and it was legitimate. ~ Richelle Mead,#NFDB
1404:Finally, still kneeling, he looked up at the woman.
Sturm caught his breath as the woman removed the hood of her cloak and drew the veil from her face. For the first time,human eyes looked upon the face of Alhana Starbreeze.
Muralasa, the elves called her-Princess of the Night. Her hair, black and soft as the night wind, was held in place by a net as fine as cobweb, twinkling with tiny jewels like stars. Her skin was the pale hue of the silver moon, her eyes the deep, dark purple of the night sky and her lips the color of the red moon's shadows.
The knight's first thought was to give thanks to Paladine that he was already on his knees. His second was that death would be a paltry price to pay to serve her, and his third that he musk say something, but he seemed to have forgotten the words of any known language. ~ Margaret Weis,#NFDB
1405:At the top, I put the camera's viewfinder to my eye and slowly turned, the way my grandmother had taught me. From every vantage point something remarkable filled the screen- clusters of wild red columbine, fallen boulders forming geometric designs against the wall, crusty green lichen gnawing on rocks, a Baltimore oriole popping from a thicket of brush, and, at my feet, a grasshopper clinging to a stem of purple aster. I could spend a day here and barely scratch the surface.
The sun felt warm on my shoulders as I bent down to capture the blossoms of yellow star grass, the feathery purple petals of spotted knapweed, and the lacy wings of two yellow jackets as they alighted on tiny white blossoms of Labrador tea. By the time I finished taking photos of a monarch butterfly resting on milkweed, I realized an hour had passed. ~ Mary Simses,#NFDB
1406:He Sees Through Stone
He sees through stone
he has the secret
eyes this old black one
who under prison skies
sits pressed by the sun
against the western wall
his pipe between purple gums
the years fall
like overripe plums
bursting red flesh
on the dark earth
his time is not my time
but I have known him
in a time gone
he led me trembling cold
into the dark forest
taught me the secret rites
to make it with a woman
to be true to my brothers
to make my spear drink
the blood of my enemies
now black cats circle him
flash white teeth
snarl at the air
mashing green grass beneath
shining muscles
ears peeling his words
he smiles
he knows
the hunt the enemy
he has the secret eyes
he sees through stone
~ Etheridge Knight,#NFDB
1407:Aztec Mask
I wanted a man’s face looking into the jaws and throat of life
With something proud on his face, so proud no smash of the jaws,
No gulp of the throat leaves the face in the end
With anything else than the old proud look:
Even to the finish, dumped in the dust,
Lost among the used-up cinders,
This face, men would say, is a flash,
Is laid on bones taken from the ribs of the earth,
Ready for the hammers of changing, changing years,
Ready for the sleeping, sleeping years of silence.
Ready for the dust and fire and wind.
I wanted this face and I saw it today in an Aztec mask.
A cry out of storm and dark, a red yell and a purple prayer,
A beaten shape of ashes
waiting the sunrise or night,
something or nothing,
proud-mouthed,
proud-eyed gambler.
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1408:Late September
Tang of fruitage in the air;
Red boughs bursting everywhere;
Shimmering of seeded grass;
Hooded gentians all a'mass.
Warmth of earth, and cloudless wind
Tearing off the husky rind,
Blowing feathered seeds to fall
By the sun-baked, sheltering wall.
Beech trees in a golden haze;
Hardy sumachs all ablaze,
Glowing through the silver birches.
How that pine tree shouts and lurches!
From the sunny door-jamb high,
Swings the shell of a butterfly.
Scrape of insect violins
Through the stubble shrilly dins.
Every blade's a minaret
Where a small muezzin's set,
Loudly calling us to pray
At the miracle of day.
Then the purple-lidded night
Westering comes, her footsteps light
Guided by the radiant boon
Of a sickle-shaped new moon.
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
1409:The final stretch of drive ended at a small cottage nestled in a grove of ancient live oaks. The weathered structure, with chipping paint and shutters that had begun to blacken at the edges, was fronted by a small stone porch framed by white columns. Over the years, one of the columns had become enshrouded in vines, which climbed toward the roof. A metal chair sat at the edge, and at one corner of the porch, adding color to the world of green, was a small pot of blooming geraniums.
But their eyes were drawn inevitably to the wildflowers. Thousands of them, a meadow of fireworks stretching nearly to the steps of the cottage, a sea of red and orange and purple and blue and yellow nearly waist deep, rippling in the gentle breeze. Hundreds of butterflies flitted about the meadow, tides of moving color undulating in the sun. ~ Nicholas Sparks,#NFDB
1410:The Vicar stood aghast, with his smoking gun in his hand. It was no bird at all, but a youth with an extremely beautiful face, clad in a robe of saffron and with iridescent wings, across whose pinions great waves of colour, flushes of purple and crimson, golden green and intense blue, pursued one another as he writhed in his agony. Never had the Vicar seen such gorgeous floods of colour, not stained glass windows, not the wings of butterflies, not even the glories of crystals seen between prisms, no colours on earth could compare with them. Twice the Angel raised himself, only to fall over sideways again. Then the beating of the wings diminished, the terrified face grew pale, the floods of colour abated, and suddenly with a sob he lay prone, and the changing hues of the broken wings faded swiftly into one uniform dull grey hue. “Oh! ~ H G Wells, #NFDB
1411:Yu-Pe-Ya’s Dirge For Tse-Ky
DEAD, my beloved! This small purple weed
That grows upon thy grave shall have its time
To ripen and to wane, to bloom and seed;
But thou, strong doer, mightst not wait thy deed,
But thou, oh noblest, mightst not wait thy meed:
Dead in thy prime!
Gone, my beloved! I that held thine hand
Left sudden in a joyless waste alone!
I tossing on life's sea, and thou to stand
Hidden in the shadows of the silent strand.
Thou seeing me from where I may not land!
Gone from me, gone!
Sleep well: but what for me who still must wake?
Dream joys: but what for me who can but weep?
Oh darkened days where never dawn shall break!
Oh weary troth-plight I with sorrow make!
But thou, rest peaceful; care not for my sake.
Dear, sleep thy sleep.
~ Augusta Davies Webster,#NFDB
1412:When we have traversed it, and look back from Albano, its dark, undulating surface lies below us like a stagnant lake, or like a broad, dull Lethe flowing round the walls of Rome, and separating it from all the world! How often have the Legions, in triumphant march, gone glittering across that purple waste, so silent and unpeopled now! How often has the train of captives looked, with sinking hearts, upon the distant city, and beheld its population pouring out, to hail the return of their conqueror! What riot, sensuality and murder, have run mad in the vast palaces now heaps of brick and shattered marble! What glare of fires, and roar of popular tumult, and wail of pestilence and famine, have come sweeping over the wild plain where nothing is now heard but the wind, and where the solitary lizards gambol unmolested in the sun! ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
1413:Hymn Xx: Weary Souls, That Wander Wide
Weary souls, that wander wide
From the central point of bliss,
Turn to Jesus crucified,
Fly to those dear wounds of his:
Sink into the purple flood;
Rise into the life of God!
Find in Christ the way of peace,
Peace unspeakable, unknown;
By his pain he gives you ease,
Life by his expiring groan;
Rise, exalted by his fall,
Find in Christ your all in all.
O believe the record true,
God to you his Son hath give
Ye may now be happy too,
Find on earth the life of heaven,
Live the life of heaven above,
All the life of glorious love.
This the universal bliss,
Bliss for every soul designed,
God's original promise this,
God's great gift to all mankind:
Blest in Christ this moment be!
Blest to all eternity!
~ Charles Wesley,#NFDB
1414:The fine purple cloaks, the holiday garments, elsewhere signs of gayety of mind, are stained with blood and bordered with black. Throughout a stern discipline, the axe ready for every suspicion of treason; “great men, bishops, a chancellor, princes, the king’s relations, queens, a protector kneeling in the straw, sprinkled the Tower with their blood; one after the other they marched past, stretched out their necks; the Duke of Buckingham, Queen Anne Boleyn, Queen Catherine Howard, the Earl of Surrey, Admiral Seymour, the Duke of Somerset, Lady Jane Grey and her husband, the Duke of Northumberland, the Earl of Essex, all on the throne, or on the steps of the throne, in the highest ranks of honor, beauty, youth, genius; of the bright procession nothing is left but senseless trunks, marred by the tender mercies of the executioner. ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
1415:He glanced at the woman in purple, who was smirking fondly at Jack’s father in a way that filled Jack with darkest foreboding. “We wanted to surprise you.”
Jack looked from his father to the woman in purple. He thought he knew what was coming and he didn’t like it. “We?”
His father slid his arm through that of the woman in purple. He cleared his throat. “Jack, may I present my wife, your new—”
“Felicitations.” If his father thought he was going to call this woman mother, he had to be mad. But then, that was his father, wasn’t it? He always saw the world as he wished it to be. It was stupid, at Jack’s age, to feel disappointment. Jack nodded crisply to his new stepmother. “Congratulations, madam. Had I been informed, I would have sent a gift.”
“That didn’t sound terribly celebratory,” whispered Lady Henrietta to her husband. ~ Lauren Willig,#NFDB
1416:Hold your tongue!’ said the Queen, turning purple. ‘I won’t!’ said Alice. ‘Off with her head!’ the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody moved. ‘Who cares for you?’ said Alice (she had grown to her full size by this time). ‘You’re nothing but a pack of cards!’ At this the whole pack rose up into the air, and came flying down upon her; she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tired to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face. ‘Wake up, Alice dear!’ said her sister. ‘Why, what a long sleep you’ve had!’ So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been. Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland, 1865 ~ Lewis Carroll, #NFDB
1417:John scrambled up and down the terraces and banks, hunting out the secret breaks in the thickets or crawling through hollows woven from sharp-spined stems. Blackberries lured him into sun-pricked chambers. Old byways closed and new ones opened, drifts of nettles surging forward then dying back. The sun beat down until the grass on the green parched. But on the high slopes the rank stems sprang up as lush as ever. Springs ran beneath the turf, his mother told him. Enough water to fill a river.
Together they pulled peppery watercress from the edges of marshy puddles and grubbed up tiny sweet carrots, dark purple under the dusty earth. Clover petals yielded honey-beads and jellylike mallow seeds savored of nuts. Tiny strawberries sheltered under ragged leaves and sweet blackberries swelled behind palisades of finger-pricking thorns. ~ Lawrence Norfolk,#NFDB
1418:Widow Mcfarlane
I was the Widow McFarlane,
Weaver of carpets for all the village.
And I pity you still at the loom of life,
You who are singing to the shuttle
And lovingly watching the work of your hands,
If you reach the day of hate, of terrible truth.
For the cloth of life is woven, you know,
To a pattern hidden under the loom -A pattern you never see!
And you weave high-hearted, singing, singing,
You guard the threads of love and friendship
For noble figures in gold and purple.
And long after other eyes can see
You have woven a moon-white strip of cloth,
You laugh in your strength, for Hope overlays it
With shapes of love and beauty.
The loom stops short! The pattern's out!
You're alone in the room! You have woven a shroud!
And hate of it lays you in it!
~ Edgar Lee Masters,#NFDB
1419:Each time she emerged from his embrace, René sought over her person for the mark of a god. O knew that if he had betrayed her several hours before, it had been to provoke the inscription of additional, crueller marks. She also knew that whilst the reasons for provoking them might disappear, Sir Stephen’s for inflicting them would not. A pity. (But, secretly, she didn’t consider it a pity, but the contrary.) Stunned, René stared for a very long time at that slender body upon which thick purple welts ran like ropes across shoulders, back, buttocks, belly and breasts, two welts sometimes intersecting. Here and there a drop or two of blood oozed through the skin. ‘Ah, I love you,’ he murmured. His hands trembling, he undressed, turned off the light and lay down beside O, close to her. She moaned in the darkness all the while he possessed her. ~ Pauline R age, #NFDB
1420:Now That I Am in Madrid I Can Think "
I think of you
and the continents brilliant and arid
and the slender heart you are sharing my share of with the American air
as the lungs I have felt sonorously subside slowly greet each morning
and your brown lashes flutter revealing two perfect dawns colored by New York
see a vast bridge stetching to the humbled outskirts with only you
Standing on the edge of the purple like an only tree
and in Toledo the olive groves’ soft blue look at the hills with silver
like glasses like an old ladies hair
It’s well known that God and I don’t get along together
It’s just a view of the brass works for me, I don’t care about the Moors
seen through you the great works of death, you are greater
you are smiling, you are emptying the world so we can be alone together. ~ Frank O Hara,#NFDB
1421:The Death Of Virtuous
Sweet is the scene when Virtue dies!—
When sinks a righteous soul to rest,
How mildly beam the closing eyes,
How gently heaves the' expiring breast!
So fades a summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.
Triumphant smiles the victor brow,
Fanned by some angel's purple wing;—
Where is, O Grave! thy victory now?
And where, insidious Death! thy sting?
Farewell, conflicting joys and fears,
Where light and shade alternate dwell;
How bright the' unchanging morn appears!
Farewell, inconstant world, Farewell!
Its duty done,—as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies;
While heaven and earth combine to say,
“Sweet is the scene when Virtue dies!”
~ Anna Laetitia Barbauld,#NFDB
1422:Double-Eyed Fig Parrot (Coxen's)
Double-Eyed Fig Parrot (Coxen’s)
Cyclopsitta diophthalma coxeni
For Jen
Look for the tell-tale signs of our existence.
Half eaten purple fruit dark as a shark’s eye
Or the bruised thumb of an adult human,
That falls with Newtonian grace; an invisible
Thump; a musket ball falling onto the forest’s
Soft eiderdown floor. Gravity dents the fabric.
A small emerald feather starfishing in a hiking
Boot’s artificial lake, like green ink released into
A beaker; its fuzzy tendrils unfurling like a foot.
If your close encounter is more than this, if you
Have spied the fist-sized parrot skulking in treeTops, or looked into its beak as it shears sugarLaden skin; you have written a rare communiqué.
A love letter so personal, it ignites at the touch.
20
~ B. R. Dionysius,#NFDB
1423:I Loved Thee, Atthis, In The Long Ago
(Sappho XXIII)
I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago,
When the great oleanders were in flower
In the broad herded meadows full of sun.
And we would often at the fall of dusk
Wander together by the silver stream,
When the soft grass-heads were all wet with dew
And purple-miste d in the fading light.
And joy I knew and sorrow at thy voice,
And the superb magnificence of love,—
The loneliness that saddens solitude,
And the sweet speech that makes it durable,—
The bitter longing and the keen desire,
The sweet companionshi p through quiet days
In the slow ample beauty of the world,
And the unutterable glad release
Within the temple of the holy night.
O Atthis, how I loved thee long ago
In that fair perished summer by the sea!
~ Bliss William Carman,#NFDB
1424:Monkshood
Most beautiful of poisons,
border-plant,
wearing your small green cowl,
little friar, little murderer,
aconitine flows
from your roots
to your deep purple flowers,
small deceiver,
centerpiece
for a poisonous
feast.
A few leaves
in the salad,
a few seeds
in the soup,
a thick root
to flavor
the stock& it is all over.
Let the lover beware
who buys you
for love philters.
The dose is deceptive.
One pinch leads to passion
but two will surely lead
to death.
Yet you twinkle
little blue bell
at the edge
of the garden,
wearing no warning
about your slim green neck.
Wolfsbane, Friar's cap,
Chariot of Venus-
128
how many may claim
to be poisonous
head to toe?
That honorFriar Deathbelongs to you.
~ Erica Jong,#NFDB
1425:Put Zebras By The Mississippi
Swiftly in forests, the zebra,
Slowly the Mississippi;
Zebras are by the Mississippi,
Not so by, but by.
Where the palm-tree waves slowly in heat, with many-colored,
little live things all about, green, orange, pink, black,
purple, red and all,
O, do say, the Mississippi flows slowly.
Hell, is not the same moon over zebras and the Mississippi?
Put zebras by the Mississippi.
Put ichneumons by the Mississippi.
Put the Mississippi anywhere.
Put zebras where you like.
Put palm-trees in New York state.
The moon's over all.
The moon's not so big.
Zebras are by the Mississippi.
Purple's by the Mississippi.
Palm-trees are.
Anywhere's anywhere, anywhere's everywhere.
Anything's everywhere.
Put zebras by the Mississippi; O, do.
O, do.
~ Eli Siegel,#NFDB
1426:It was impossible to breathe at this point. This man, this brilliant talented, gorgeous man had just poured out his heart tome, and I was going to die before I could respond because I'd stopped breathing. He continued "At some point, we'll fight. In the future, things might get difficult. I'm never going to be an easy person to get along with. But Vera, on the other hand, we can fight for each other. Life will likely get difficult whether we're together or not, so why not tackle it together? And I might be an asshole, but I'm an asshole that cares a very great deal for you. In fact, I might even love you."
Basically it was impossible to breathe now. I had probably turned purple. "You what?"
His hands moved up my forearms, gripping for support. Whether it was for him or me, I didn't know.
"I love you, Vera. I do. I love you. ~ Rachel Higginson,#NFDB
1427:He was searching his memory when suddenly a strange figure appeared in front of them, on horseback, trotted for a moment, then turned round in the saddle. His blood froze; he remained rooted to the spot in horror. That equivocal, sexless face was green, with terrible eyes of an icy light blue beneath purple lids; postules encircled its mouth; extraordinarily thin arms, bare from the elbows down and shaking with fever, emerged from ragged sleeves, and the fleshless thighs shivered in high boots which were far too large.
The dreadful gaze was fixed on Des Esseintes, boring into him, chilling him to the marrow, while the bulldog woman, now in even greater panic, clung to him with her head thrown back on her rigid neck, screaming blue murder. And instantly he grasped the meaning of the horrifying vision. He was looking at the figure of the Pox. ~ Joris Karl Huysmans,#NFDB
1428:Elizabeth went from stand to stand as if I wasn't there, exchanging cash for heavy bags of produce: pink-and-white-striped beans, tan-colored pumpkins with long necks, purple potatoes mixed with yellow and red. When she was busy paying for a bag of nectarines, I stole a green grape off an overflowing with my teeth.
"Please!" exclaimed a short, bearded man I hadn't noticed. "Sample! They're delicious, perfectly ripe." He tore off a bunch of grapes and placed them in my wrapped hands.
"Say thank you," Elizabeth said, but my mouth was full of grapes.
Elizabeth bought three pounds of grapes, six nectarines, and a bag of dried apricots. On a bench facing a long, grassy field we sat together, and she held out a yellow plum a few inches from my lips. I leaned forward and ate it out of her hand, the juice dripping down my chin and onto my dress. ~ Vanessa Diffenbaugh,#NFDB
1429:within the harbour, or on the beautiful sea without. The line of demarcation between the two colours, black and blue, showed the point which the pure sea would not pass; but it lay as quiet as the abominable pool, with which it never mixed. Boats without awnings were too hot to touch; ships blistered at their moorings; the stones of the quays had not cooled, night or day, for months. Hindoos, Russians, Chinese, Spaniards, Portuguese, Englishmen, Frenchmen, Genoese, Neapolitans, Venetians, Greeks, Turks, descendants from all the builders of Babel, come to trade at Marseilles, sought the shade alike—taking refuge in any hiding-place from a sea too intensely blue to be looked at, and a sky of purple, set with one great flaming jewel of fire. The universal stare made the eyes ache. Towards the distant line of Italian coast, indeed, it was a little relieved ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
1430:A Something In A Summer's Day
122
A something in a summer's Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer's noon—
A depth—an Azure—a perfume—
Transcending ecstasy.
And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see—
Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle—shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me—
The wizard fingers never rest—
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed—
Still rears the East her amber Flag—
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red—
So looking on—the night—the morn
Conclude the wonder gay—
And I meet, coming thro' the dews
Another summer's Day!
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1431:Petrarch, poet laureate of the empire, described the papal court in Avignon scornfully as "the shame of mankind, a sink of vice, a sewer where is gathered all the filth of the world. There God is held in contempt, money alone is worshipped and the laws of God and men are trampled under foot. Everything there breathes a lie: the air, the earth, the houses and above all the bedrooms." Referring to Avignon as "the Babylon of the West," Petrarch declared: Here reign the successors of the poor fishermen of Galilee. . . loaded with gold and clad in purple, boasting of the spoils of princes and nations. Instead of holy solitude we find a criminal host. . . instead of soberness, licentious banquets. . . instead of the bare feet of the apostles. . . horses decked in gold and fed on gold, soon to be shod with gold, if the Lord does not check this slavish luxury.25 ~ Dave Hunt, #NFDB
1432:Sunrise On The Coast
Grey dawn on the sand-hills -- the night wind has drifted
All night from the rollers a scent of the sea;
With the dawn the grey fog his battalions has lifted,
At the call of the morning they scatter and flee.
Like mariners calling the roll of their number
The sea-fowl put out to the infinite deep.
And far overhead -- sinking softly to slumber -Worn out by their watching the stars fall asleep.
To eastward, where rests the broad dome of the skies on
The sea-line, stirs softly the curtain of night;
And far from behind the enshrouded horizon
Comes the voice of a God saying "Let there be light."
And lo, there is light! Evanescent and tender,
It glows ruby-red where 'twas now ashen-grey;
And purple and scarlet and gold in its splendour -Behold, 'tis that marvel, the birth of a day!
~ Banjo Paterson,#NFDB
1433:The air was cool and fresh and smelled of the kelp and salt that streamed in off the bay at the full of the tide. The sun was high in the tender vault of the sky, and the thunderheads that would sweep in late in the day were still only white marble puffs at the margins of the sky, solid and silver-lined. There was a blue clarity about the horizon and the distant hills that spoke of a weather change but not for another day or two. Along the meadows' edges, as we drove past, I saw pink clover and purple lupine, hawkweed and wild daylilies. Brilliant pink wild azaleas, called lambkill here, flickered like wildfire in the birch groves. Daisies, buttercups, wild columbine, and the purple flags of wild iris starred the roadside. Behind them all was the eternal dark of the pines and firs and spruce thickets and, between those, the glittering indigo of the bay. ~ Anne Rivers Siddons, #NFDB
1434:A shell in the pit," said I, "if the worst comes to worst will kill them all."
The intense excitement of the events had no doubt left my perceptive powers in a state of erethism. I remember that dinner table with extraordinary vividness even now. My dear wife's sweet anxious face peering at me from under the pink lampshade, the white cloth with it silver and glass table furniture—for in those days even philosophical writers had luxuries—the crimson-purple wine in my glass, are photographically distinct. At the end of it I sat, tempering nuts with a cigarette, regretting Ogilvy's rashness, and denouncing the shortsighted timidity of the Martians.
So some respectable dodo in the Mauritius might have lorded it in his nest, and discussed the arrival of that shipful of pitiless sailors in want of animal food. "We will peck them to death tomorrow, my dear. ~ H G Wells,#NFDB
1435:Some Rainbow—coming From The Fair!
64
Some Rainbow—coming from the Fair!
Some Vision of the World Cashmere—
I confidently see!
Or else a Peacock's purple Train
Feather by feather—on the plain
Fritters itself away!
The dreamy Butterflies bestir!
Lethargic pools resume the whir
Of last year's sundered tune!
From some old Fortress on the sun
Baronial Bees—march—one by one—
In murmuring platoon!
The Robins stand as thick today
As flakes of snow stood yesterday—
On fence—and Roof—and Twig!
The Orchis binds her feather on
For her old lover - Don the Sun!
Revisiting the Bog!
Without Commander! Countless! Still!
The Regiments of Wood and Hill
In bright detachment stand!
Behold! Whose Multitudes are these?
The children of whose turbaned seas—
Or what Circassian Land?
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1436:All at once the hard, cold earth seemed to explode. The brown surface of the world dissolved and in its place was an impossible, an inconceivable, an unbelievable profusion of color: green grass and purple and red flowers; sprays of lily; white baby's breath that covered the hills; nodding fields of bright yellow daffodils; rich purple moss. The trees burst forth with new leaves. The weeping willow tree was a mass of tiny pale green leaves, thousands of them, which whispered and sighed together as the wind moved through its branches. There were fat heads of lettuce in the fields, and cucumbers lying like jewels among them, and enormous red tomatoes surrounded by thick, knotted vines.
And for the first time in 1,728 days, the clouds broke apart and there was dazzling blue sky, and light beyond what anyone could remember.
The sun had come out at last. ~ Lauren Oliver,#NFDB
1437:Andreas had been trying to remember the words to a ribald drinking song he had heard a few weeks ago when Saluador rode up next to him. The Spaniard’s horse was a hand or so taller than his own, and in keeping with the man himself, much more spirited. Andreas was tall enough to see over most crowds, but Saluador eclipsed him readily. The Spaniard kept his beard and hair short, cropped close to his head, and when he smiled, his cheeks dimpled in a way that was very disarming to the ladies. Unfortunately, Saluador had not managed how to make his ready charm extend to his eyes. The ladies found this contrast exciting and dangerous, but Andreas thought that a man who couldn’t smile naturally was a man who harbored a deep and long-standing grudge. Probably against something he could never change, like God or the weather or the color purple. Which made him unpredictable. ~ Neal Stephenson, #NFDB
1438:Great Literature is help for humans. It is medicine of the highest order. In a more aware culture, writers would be considered priests. And, in fact, I have approached writing in a distinctly priestess frame of mind. I know what The Color Purple can mean to people, women and men, who have no voice. Who believe they have few choices in life. It can open to them, to their view, the full abundance of this amazing journey we are all on. It can lift them into a new realization of their own power, beauty, love, courage. It is a book that unites the present with the past, therefore giving people a sense of history and of timelessness they might never achieve otherwise. And even were it not ‘great’ literature, it has the best interests of all of us humans at heart. That we grow, change, challenge, encourage, love fiercely in the awareness that real love can never be incorrect. ~ Alice Walker, #NFDB
1439:Lila smiles, reaches into the cloth covering whatever goodies are in the basket, and pulls out a concha. The top of the pastry is a swirl of colors- deep purple, inky blue, pink, green, gold. It reminds me of the galaxy, and I stare for a moment, mesmerized, before I take it from her.
My mouth begins to water. "This smells incredible," I say. "What do I owe you?"
"It's on the house," she says, already turning away. "Enjoy."
I want to argue, but the urge to bite into the pastry is nearly irresistible now. I've never had Mexican pastries before. But first... I pick up my phone from the bench and take a picture of the gorgeous creation. Then, putting it back down, I take a big bite and close my eyes. My mouth explodes with flavors and sensations- sweet, yeasty, warm. In another three bites, I've eaten the entire four-inch ball of dough and am licking my fingers. ~ Sandhya Menon,#NFDB
1440:The hill between the manor and forest displayed layers of Lady Croft's prized gardens. Paved pathways wove through a formal Italian garden, rose garden, water garden, lily pond, and a tulip garden built around Roman ruins.
Maggie stood beside a statue of the goddess Hemera and a row of yew bushes that had been neatly pruned into a wall to form the perimeter of the Croft family maze. Walter sat nearby on a picnic blanket as she scanned the hillside above the maze to see if she could find Libby's copper-streaked hair among the immaculate gardens and all the people dressed in their finest for this entree into Ladenbrooke's gardens.
The Croft family opened the front gate to the public once each summer. Hundreds of people from around the Cotswolds came to peruse Lady Croft's magnificent displays- the golden heather, purple dahlias, peach lilies floating on the pond. ~ Melanie Dobson,#NFDB
1441:Dippold The Optician
What do you see now?
Globes of red, yellow, purple.
Just a moment! And now?
My father and mother and sisters.
Yes! And now?
Knights at arms, beautiful women, kind faces.
Try this.
A field of grain—a city.
Very good! And now?
A young woman with angels bending over her.
A heavier lens! And now?
Many women with bright eyes and open lips.
Try this.
Just a goblet on a table.
Oh I see! Try this lens!
Just an open space—I see nothing in particular.
Well, now!
Pine trees, a lake, a summer sky.
That’s better. And now?
A book.
Read a page for me.
I can’t. My eyes are carried beyond the page.
Try this lens.
Depths of air.
Excellent! And now?
Light, just light, making everything below it a toy world.
Very well, we’ll make the glasses accordingly.
~ Edgar Lee Masters,#NFDB
1442:Huh. The Collector is here. That should make for an interesting bit of bidding.” “The Collector?” I asked. “What’s that?” “Not what. Who. His name is Pontius Aquila.” She pointed with one gnarled finger at a man with sharp features and silvering hair seated in the second row of the stands. He sat beneath a fringed shade, tended to by an oiled, muscular slave. Aquila’s robes were also fringed and banded with a purple stripe. He glared above the heads of the audience as if their presence were not worth acknowledging. “He’s a politician with a fancy title, the so-called Tribune of the Plebs, but he’s as base as they come.” She snorted. “No manners, and rich off other people’s money. But he knows a valuable piece of flesh when he sees it. And he’ll stop at nothing to add to his collection once he does. I’ve seen his bullyboys start brawls at the auctions if he’s outbid. ~ Lesley Livingston, #NFDB
1443:As a bonding exercise one weekend, Musk, Ambras, a few other employees and friends took off for a bike ride through the Saratoga Gap trail in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Most of the riders had been training and were accustomed to strenuous sessions and the summer’s heat. They set up the mountains at a furious pace. After an hour, Russ Rive, Musk’s cousin, reached the top and proceeded to vomit. Right behind him were the rest of the cyclists. Then, fifteen minutes later, Musk became visible to the group. His face had turned purple, and sweat poured out of him, and he made it to the top. “I always think back to that ride. He wasn’t close to being in the condition needed for it,” Ambras said. “Anyone else would have quit or walked up their bike. As I watched him climb that final hundred feet with suffering all over his face, I thought, That’s Elon. Do or die but don’t give up. ~ Ashlee Vance, #NFDB
1444:What the hell is that?" yelled Lord Maccon. He had turned to anger so swiftly; Alexia could only stare at him, speechless.
She let out her pent-up breath in a whoosh. Her heart was beating a marathon somewhere in the region of her throat, her skin felt hot and stretched taut over her bones, and she was damp in places she was tolerably certain unmarried gentlewomen were not supposed to be damp in.
Lord Maccon was glaring at her coffee-colored skin, discolored between the neck and shoulder region by an ugly purple mark, the size and shape of a man's teeth.
"that is a bite mark, my lord," she said.
Lord Maccon was ever more enraged. "Who bit you?" he roared.
Alexia tilted her head to one side in amazement. "You did." She was then treated to the spectacle of an Alpha werewolf looking downright hangdog.
"I did?"
She raised both eyebrows at him.
"I did. ~ Gail Carriger,#NFDB
1445:I.
Hast thou not seen, officious with delight,
Move through the illumined air about the flower
The Bee, that fears to drink its purple light,
Lest danger lurk within that Rose's bower?
Hast thou not marked the moth's enamoured flight
About the Taper's flame at evening hour;
Till kindle in that monumental fire
His sunflower wings their own funereal pyre?
II.
My heart, its wishes trembling to unfold.
Thus round the Rose and Taper hovering came,
'And Passions slave, Distrust, in ashes cold.
Smothered awhile, but could not quench the flame,'--
Till Love, that grows by disappointment bold,
And Opportunity, had conquered Shame;
And like the Bee and Moth, in act to close,
'I burned my wings, and settled on the Rose.'
TRANSLATED BY MEDWIN AND CORRECTED BY SHELLEY.
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Stanzas From Calderons Cisma De Inglaterra
,#NFDB
1446:Noelle said you wanted to get the Galaxie running.” Meridith jumped at Jake’s voice. She hadn’t heard the screen door. “You walk like an Indian.” “You were lost in thought. The Galaxie’s not running?” She tucked her feet under the Adirondack chair and looked out over the harbor where evening had turned the sky pink and purple. She’d tried to start the car when they’d returned from their ride. “Something’s wrong with it. You wouldn’t know a good mechanic, would you? Someone that wouldn’t break the bank?” “I could look at it.” He perched on the edge of the chair next to her. Too close. She raised her brows at him. “You fix cars too?” He shrugged. “I’m good with my hands.” The arrogance was back. The cocky half grin, the bold stare. She was sure he’d meant nothing by the comment. Still, heat climbed her neck and settled in her cheeks. She was glad for the dim lighting. “Give ~ Denise Hunter, #NFDB
1447:There,” Win said one day after they had rambled through dry meadows and settled to rest in their favorite place. “You’re almost doing it.” “Almost doing what?” Kev asked lazily. They reclined by a clump of trees bordering a winterbourne, a stream that ran dry in the summer months. The grass was littered with purple rampion and white meadowsweet, the latter spreading an almondlike fragrance through the warm, fetid air. “Smiling.” She lifted on her elbows beside him, her fingers brushing his lips. Kev stopped breathing. A pipit rose from a nearby tree on taut wings, drawing out a long note as he descended. Intent on her task, Win shaped the corners of Kev’s mouth upward and tried to hold them there. Aroused and amused, Kev let out a smothered laugh and brushed her hand away. “You should smile more often,” Win said, still staring down at him. “You’re very handsome when you do. ~ Lisa Kleypas, #NFDB
1448:Egypt is a fertile valley of rich river soil, low-lying, warm, monotonous, a slow-flowing river, and beyond the limitless desert. Greece is a country of sparse fertility and keen, cold winters, all hills and mountains sharp cut in stone, where strong men must work hard to get their bread. And while Egypt submitted and suffered and turned her face toward death, Greece resisted and rejoiced and turned full-face to life. For somewhere among those steep stone mountains, in little sheltered valleys where the great hills were ramparts to defend, and men could have security for peace and happy living, something quite new came into the world: the joy of life found expression. Perhaps it was born there, among the shepherds pasturing their flocks where the wild flowers made a glory on the hillside; among the sailors on a sapphire sea washing enchanted islands purple in a luminous air. ~ Edith Hamilton, #NFDB
1449:The Dining Pavilion Brought to you by Pete the Palikos With its Greek marble columns and unencumbered views of the sky above, this inviting seaside facility screams classical elegance. The oversize tables, each reserved for members of a specific cabin, can easily accommodate up to twenty campers. The white tablecloths, edged with purple, add a dash of distinction. The menu boasts every food imaginable, and dishes are served and cleared by the loveliest dryads in the forest. Just don’t forget to start your meal with a burnt offering to the gods! Oh, and ignore that crack in the marble floor – it’s from a slight mishap when zombies were accidentally summoned from the Underworld. Nothing to worry about! Dining Pavilion Announcements REMINDER: Hecate head counsellor Lou Ellen Blackstone and Hermes head counsellors Travis and Connor Stoll will conduct cabin inspections this morning. ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
1450:Amans Amare
A cottage small be mine, with porch
Enwreathed with ivy green,
And brightsome flowers with dew-filled bells,
’Mid brown old wattles seen.
And one to wait at shut of eve,
With eyes as fountain clear,
And braided hair, and simple dress,
My homeward step to hear.
On summer eves to sing old songs,
And talk o’er early vows,
While stars look down like angels’ eyes
Amid the leafy boughs.
When Spring flowers peep from flossy cells,
And bright-winged parrots call,
In forest paths be ours to rove
Till purple evenings fall.
The curtains closed, by taper clear
To read some page divine,
On winter nights, the hearth beside,
Her soft, warm hand in mine.
And so to glide through busy life,
Like some small brook alone
That winds its way ’mid grassy knolls,
Its music all its own.
~ Daniel Henry Deniehy,#NFDB
1451:I clutched the basin of the sink as I checked my reflection. I was badly bruised on my neck and décolleté. I then realized my arms, abdomen and legs ached as if I worked out with heavy weights too hard the day before. My eyes flashed back to my neck. I traced the hand marks that left their anger in a violent green and purple pattern. I needed to wash myself. The smell of blood lingered upon my skin, turning my stomach. I heard Alexei tapping on the door but ignored him and stepped into the shower.
The water felt caustic at first, causing the pain my attacker rendered upon my body to resurface, but soon we made peace, and I rested under the heat. I heard him come in, and he slowly moved the curtain back, allowing a rush of cool air to rape me once more.
“Please, Dija. Say something.”
I continued my determined vow of silence. The hurt was suppressed within my chest. ~ Rebekah Armusik,#NFDB
1452:I tear down Baxter, which loops around the last mile down to Back Cove.
And then I stop short. The buildings have fallen away behind me, giving way to ramshackle sheds, sparsely situated on either side of the cracked and run-down road. Beyond that, a short strip of tall, weedy grass slants down toward the cove.
The water is an enormous mirror, tipped with pink and gold from the sky. In that single, blazing moment as I come around the bend, the sun—curved over the dip of the horizon like a solid gold archway—lets out its final winking rays of light, shattering the darkness of the water, turning everything white for a fraction of a second, and then falls away, sinking, dragging the pink and the red and the purple out of the sky with it, all the color bleeding away instantly and leaving only dark.
Alex was right. It was gorgeous—one of the best I’ve ever seen. ~ Lauren Oliver,#NFDB
1453:The air inside her room was thick with the scent of eucalyptus and lemon. He materialized near her dresser. His hand automatically turned her alarm clock to face the wall, then brushed across a tray filled with Vicks, cough syrup, aspirin, and a thermometer. He tenderly touched the lemon slices near an empty teacup. Could a simple illness have filled him with so much fear that he had risked coming to see her?
A dim light from a purple Lava lamp cast an amber glow across the bed where Serena lay, the leopard-print sheets twisted in a knot beside her leg. Her long curly hair was half caught in a scrunchy that matched her flannel pajamas. The words Diamonds are a girl's best friend- they're sharper than knives curled around a dozen marching Marilyns in army fatigues on the blue fabric. Stanton had been with her when she bought the Sergeant Marilyn pajamas three months back. ~ Lynne Ewing,#NFDB
1454:This morning, outside Nordic Fisheries a couple of delivery guys are unloading lobsters and crabs by the case, pausing in between loads to sip coffee from Styrofoam cups. Across the street, on Penn Avenue, the green grocers are busy stacking crates of vegetables and fruits, arranging them into a still life to showcase their most beautiful produce: heads of red romaine, their tender spines heavy with the weight of lush, purple-tinged leaves; a basket of delicate mâche, dark green, almost black, and smelling like a hothouse garden; sugar pumpkins of burnished gold; new Brussels sprouts, their tender petals open like flowers.
At this hour the world belongs to those noble souls who devote their lives to food. Cook, grocer, butcher, baker, sunrises are ours. It's a time to gather your materials, to prepare your mise en place, to breathe uninterrupted before the day begins. ~ Meredith Mileti,#NFDB
1455:People flocked like lemmings to the water's edge all across Michigan's vast coastline every pretty summer evening to watch the spectacular sunsets. They were marvelous spectacles, a fireworks display most nights- a kaleidoscope of color and light in the sky, white clouds turning cotton candy pink, Superman ice cream blue, and plum purple, the sun a giant fireball that seemed to melt in the water as it began to slink behind the wavy horizon.
Sunsets are one of our simplest and most profound gifts, Sam remembered her grandma telling her years ago as they walked the shoreline looking for witches' stones- the ones with holes in them- or pretty Petoskeys to make matching necklaces. They remind us that we were blessed to have enjoyed a perfect day, and they provide hope that tomorrow will be even better. It's God's way of saying good night with His own brand of fireworks. ~ Viola Shipman,#NFDB
1456:What was that sound? That rustling noise? It could be heard in the icy North, where there was not one leaf left upon one tree, it could be heard in the South, where the crinoline skirts lay deep in the mothballs, as still and quiet as wool. It could be heard from sea to shining sea, o'er purple mountains' majesty and upon the fruited plain. What was it? Why, it was the rustle of thousands of bags of potato chips being pulled from supermarket racks; it was the rustle of plastic bags being filled with beer and soda pop and quarts of hard liquor; it was the rustle of newspaper pages fanning as readers turned eagerly to the sports section; it was the rustle of currency changing hands as tickets were scalped for forty times their face value and two hundred and seventy million dollars were waged upon one or the other of two professional football teams. It was the rustle of Super Bowl week... ~ Tom Robbins, #NFDB
1457:Love In A Cottage
A cottage small be mine, with porch
Enwreathed with ivy green,
And brightsome flowers with dew-filled bells,
'Mid brown old wattles seen.
And one to wait at shut of eve,
With eyes as fountain clear,
And braided hair, and simple dress,
My homeward step to hear.
On summer eves to sing old songs,
And talk o'er early vows,
While stars look down like angels' eyes
Amid the leafy boughs.
When Spring flowers peep from flossy cells,
And bright-winged parrots call,
In forest paths be ours to rove
Till purple evenings fall.
The curtains closed, by taper clear
To read some page divine,
On winter nights, the hearth beside,
Her soft, warm hand in mine.
And so to glide through busy life,
Like some small brook alone,
That winds its way 'mid grassy knolls,
Its music all its own.
~ Daniel Henry Deniehy,#NFDB
1458:They went back to scooping up breakfast, licking the mess off their fingers. Soon the pile of berry mush was gone and their tongues were dyed a nice midnight blue. Ian seemed in a good mood, sticking his tongue out playfully at his best friend. Eena did likewise, right back at him. She was happy he was smiling, even if his teeth were purple.
(You’re too much fun, Eena,) Ian announced in her mind. (I’m really glad we’re friends.)
(Me too,) she agreed. (Best friends.)
Ian leaned back on his hands and watched the waves roll in from far off. The swells were building into large, flat-crested waves.
(Angelle never thought like you do. You’re creative and kinda crazy. Her thoughts were always more simple and, well…..normal.)
(Yeah, well, deadly dragons and evil witches tend to suck all the normal right out of you,) she grumbled.
(I suppose.) ~ Richelle E Goodrich,#NFDB
1459:What are you tittering at, Mr Holles?' asked Captain Aubrey.
'Nothing, sir.'
'Now I come to think of it, I have a letter from your guardian, Mr Holles. He wishes to be assured that your moral welfare is well in hand, and that you do not neglect your Bible. You do not neglect your Bibles, any of you, I dare say?'
'Oh, no, sir.'
'I am glad to hear it. Where the Devil would you be, if you neglected your Bible? Tell me, Mr Holles, who was Abraham?' Jack was particularly well up in this part of sacred history, having checked Admiral Drury's remarks on Sodom:
'Abraham, sir,' said Holles, his pasty, spotted face turning a nasty variegated purple. 'Why, Abraham was . .
But no more emerged, other than a murmur of 'bosom'.
'Mr Peters?' Mr Peters expressed his conviction that Abraham was a very good man; perhaps a corn-chandler, since one said 'Abraham and his seed for ever'. ~ Patrick O Brian,#NFDB
1460:As the room filled with tart, pleasant fumes Esther had never smelled before, her head became light with joy. These paints and and brushes and canvases were the tools real artists used. In the short hour left, inspired by Van Gogh, she chose a corner of the room as her subject and began to paint in tiny, furious brush strokes. To her amazement, yellow and blue combined into a vibrant green, red and blue turned a pulsating purple, and yellow and red mixed into a glowing orange. But beyond the colors, some new magic took over. Esther's eyes, clear as if the cumin had never blinded her, captured shapes and shadows and threw them on the canvas without effort, without thought. The urge to paint was a fountain that coursed through her, her fingers only a conduit to something so big it was hard to imagine her little heart contained it. Surely, this was the work of God. He must be guiding her hand. ~ Talia Carner, #NFDB
1461:Dear March - Come in
DEAR March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat—
You must have walked—
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!
I got your letter, and the bird's;
The maples never knew
That you were coming,—I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me—
And all those hills
You left for me to hue;
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.
Who knocks? That April!
Lock the door!
I will not be pursued!
He stayed away a year, to call
When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come,
That blame is just as dear as praise
And praise as mere as blame.
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1462:The Mariner
"Wreck and stray and castaway."--SWINBURNE.
Once more adrift.
O'er dappling sea and broad lagoon,
O'er frowning cliff and yellow dune,
The long, warm lights of afternoon
Like jewel dustings sift.
Once more awake.
I dreamed an hour of port and quay,
Of anchorage not meant for me;
The sea, the sea, the hungry sea
Came rolling up the break.
Once more afloat.
The billows on my moorings press't,
They drove me from my moment's rest,
And now a portless sea I breast,
And shelterless my boat.
Once more away.
The harbour lights are growing dim,
The shore is but a purple rim,
The sea outstretches grey and grim.
Away, away, away!
Once more at sea,
The old, old sea I used to sail,
The battling tide, the blowing gale,
The waves with ceaseless under-wail
The life that used to be.
~ Emily Pauline Johnson,#NFDB
1463:Finally I found something on the list, something vital: instant coffee. I held the red plastic container, one of the last three on the shelf, held it like the marvel that it was: the seeds inside the purple fruits of coffee plants had been harvested on Andean slopes and roasted and ground and soaked and then dehydrated at a factory in Medellin and vacuum-sealed and flown to JFK and then driven upstate in bulk to Pearl River for repackaging and then transported by truck to the store where I now stood reading the label. It was as if the social relations that produced the object in my hand began to glow within it as they were threatened, stirred inside their packaging, lending it a certain aura--the majesty and murderous stupidity of that organization of time and space and fuel and labor becoming visible in the commodity itself now that planes were grounded and the highways were starting to close. ~ Ben Lerner, #NFDB
1464:Dream-Valley
I KNOW a vale where the oriole swings
Her nest to the breeze and the sky,
The iris opens her petal wings
And a brooklet ripples by;
In the far blue is a cloud-drift,
And the witch-tree dresses,
With a rare charm in the warm light,
Her long dream-tresses.
But yestermorn–or was it a dream?
When daisies were drinking the dew,
I wandered down by the little stream,
And who was there but you?
Though nature smiled with the old joy
To the boldest comer,
It was your voice and the wild-bird's
Were the soul of summer.
When bowed with the toils of many years,
I would rest, if it be Love's will,
In a vale where the bird songs to my ears
Come floating across the hill,
With the sweet breath of the June air
And the purple clover,
And the lone dream of the old love,
And the blue skies over.
~ Albert Durrant Watson,#NFDB
1465:Lab Report Sheet The Principle: The Volkswagen Jetta Principle The Theory: You impact the field and draw from it according to your beliefs and expectations. The Question: Do I really see only what I expect to see? The Hypothesis: If I decide to look for sunset-beige cars and butterflies (or purple feathers), I will find them. Time Required: 48 hours Today’s Date: Time: The Approach: According to this crazy Pam Grout girl, the world out there reflects what I want to see. She says that it’s nothing but my own illusions that keep me from experiencing peace, joy, and love. So even though I suspect she’s cracked, today I’m going to look for sunset-beige cars. Tomorrow, I’ll go butterfly hunting. a. Number of sunset-beige cars observed: b. Number of butterflies observed: Research Notes: ~ Pam Grout, #NFDB
1466:But the underlying presumption—that Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama could be swapped in for each other—exhibited a problem. Clinton was a candidate who’d won one competitive political race in her life, whose political instincts were questioned by her own advisers, who took more than half a million dollars in speaking fees from an investment bank because it was “what they offered,” who proposed to bring back to the White House a former president dogged by allegations of rape and sexual harassment. Obama was a candidate who’d become only the third black senator in the modern era; who’d twice been elected president, each time flipping red and purple states; who’d run one of the most scandal-free administrations in recent memory. Imagine an African American facsimile of Hillary Clinton: She would never be the nominee of a major political party and likely would not be in national politics at all. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates, #NFDB
1467:The Fourth Epigram
On GALLA.
Now liquid Streams by the fierce Cold do grow
As solid as the Rocks from whence they flow;
Now Tibers Banks with Ice united meet,
And it's firm Stream may well be term'd its Street;
Now Vot'ries 'fore the Shrines like Statues show,
And scarce the Men from Images we know;
Now Winters Palsey seizes ev'ry Age,
And none's so warm, but feels the Seasons Rage;
Even the bright Lillies and triumphant Red
Which o're Corinna's youthful cheeks are spred,
Look pale and bleak, and shew a purple hew,
And Violets staine, where Roses lately grew.
Galla alone, with wonder we behold,
Maintain her Spring, and still out-brave the Cold;
Her constant white does not to Frost give place,
Nor fresh Vermillion fade upon her face:
Sure Divine beauty in this Dame does shine?
Not Humane, one reply'd, yet not Divine.
~ Anne Killigrew,#NFDB
1468:Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There is no reason for you to carry on as you are. I can give you everything you need—lovely clothes, servants, and maids; grand parties, balls, and soirees. You will entertain dignitaries, diplomats, and naval officers, take tea with members of your own fair sex instead of crossing swords with criminals, killers, and rogues. By God, never again will you have to steal just to feed yourself, fight just to defend your honor! I will take care of you, Maeve. I will love you. As my wife you shall enjoy the life you deserve to have, one of grandeur, society, and status.” “But that is not the life I want.” He drew back, hurt. “What do you mean? Isn’t that what every woman wants?” “It is not what I want. And I am not ‘every woman.’” “Well, what do you want, then?” He twisted the purple ribbon in his hands, looking bewildered, confused, lost. “Ask, Maeve, and you shall have it. ~ Danelle Harmon, #NFDB
1469:How good it is when you have roast meat or suchlike foods before you, to impress on your mind that this is the dead body of a fish, this is the dead body of a bird or pig; and again, that the Falernian wine is the mere juice of grapes, and your purple edged robe simply the hair of a sheep soaked in shell-fish blood!
And in sexual intercourse that it is no more than the friction of a membrane and a spurt of mucus ejected.
How good these perceptions are at getting to the heart of the real thing and penetrating through it, so you can see it for what it is!
This should be your practice throughout all your life: when things have such a plausible appearance, show them naked, see their shoddiness, strip away their own boastful account of themselves.
Vanity is the greatest seducer of reason: when you are most convinced that your work is important, that is when you are most under its spell. ~ Marcus Aurelius,#NFDB
1470:After Rain
The rain of a night and a day and a night
Stops at the light
Of this pale choked day. The peering sun
Sees what has been done.
The road under the trees has a border new
of purple hue
Inside the border of bright thin grass:
For all that has
Been left by November of leaves is torn
From hazel and thorn
And the greater trees. Throughout the copse
No dead leaf drops
On grey grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern,
At the wind's return:
The leaflets out of the ash-tree shed
Are thinly spread
In the road, like little black fish, inlaid,
As if they played.
What hangs from the myriad branches down there
So hard and bare
Is twelve yellow apples lovely to see
On one crab-tree.
And on each twig of every tree in the dell
Uncountable
Crystals both dark and bright of the the rain
That begins again.
~ Edward Thomas,#NFDB
1471:[High angel] Carter's fucked-up sense of humor in action.'
[The angel] Lucinda flushed deep crimson. 'How can you use such language so carelessly? You sound like you're… like you're in a locker room!"
I smoothed down my tank top. 'No way. I'd never wear this in a locker room.'
'Yeah, it isn't even in school colors,' said Peter.
I couldn't resist toying with the guardian. 'If i were in a locker room, i'd probably have on a short cheerleader skirt. And no underwear.'
Peter continued playing off me. 'And you'd do that one cheer, right? The one with your hands splayed against the shower wall and ass sticking out?'
'That's me,' i agreed. 'Always ready to take one for the team.'
Even Cody[, the other vampire] flushed at our crassness. Lucinda was practically purple.
'You–you two have no sense of decency! None at all. ~ Richelle Mead,#NFDB
1472:Roses climbed the shed, entwined with dark purple clematis, leaves as glossy as satin. There were no thorns. Patience's cupboard was overflowing with remedies, and the little barn was often crowded with seekers. The half acre of meadow was wild with cosmos and lupine, coreopsis, and sweet William. Basil, thyme, coriander, and broad leaf parsley grew in billowing clouds of green; the smell so fresh your mouth watered and you began to plan the next meal. Cucumbers spilled out of the raised beds, fighting for space with the peas and beans, lettuce, tomatoes, and bright yellow peppers.
The cart was righted out by the road and was soon bowed under glass jars and tin pails of sunflowers, zinnias, dahlias, and salvia. Pears, apples, and out-of-season apricots sat in balsa wood baskets in the shade, and watermelons, some with pink flesh, some with yellow, all sweet and seedless, lined the willow fence. ~ Ellen Herrick,#NFDB
1473:series of torches surrounded the curved opening of a large pit, the opening of the Abyss. The high priestess from earlier stood on the opposite side of the pit, before an entourage of twelve nymphs, all seductively alluring in translucent gowns and jewelry. The priestess wore a headdress of gems on her raven black hair. Her purple robe, made from the finest of Phoenician silks, flowed behind her like a spirit. Her eyes were large, deep brown and hypnotic. Her beauty was beguiling. When she spoke, her voice sounded like seven voices blended into one bewitching unity. “Welcome to the Gates of Hades, Son of God,” she said. “And your ass-kissing suck-upssss.” Her “esses” slid through the air like the serpents that wrapped around her arms and neck. Jesus stared her down. She faltered and visibly shivered, but regained her composure and approached him. “What is your name, woman?” “I am the Ob of Paniassss. ~ Brian Godawa, #NFDB
1474:Lines Written In Recapitulation
I could not bring this splendid world nor any trading beast
In charge of it, to defer, no, not to give ear, not in the least
Appearance, to my handsome prophecies,
which here I ponder and put by.
I am left simpler, less encumbered, by the consciousness
that I shall by no pebble in my dirty sling
avail To slay one purple giant four feet high and distribute arms
among his tall attendants, who spit at his name
when spitting on the ground:
They will be found one day Prone where they fell, or dead sitting
and pock-marked wall
Supporting the beautiful back straight as an oak
before it is old.
I have learned to fail. And I have had my say.
Yet shall I sing until my voice crack
(this being my leisure, this my holiday)
That man was a special thing, and no commodity,
a thing improper to be sold.
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay,#NFDB
1475:Summer Song
THERE are white moon daisies in the mist of the meadow
Where the flowered grass scatters its seeds like spray,
There are purple orchis by the wood-ways' shadow,
There are pale dog-roses by the white highway;
And the grass, the grass is tall, the grass is up for hay,
With daisies white like silver and buttercups like gold,
And it's oh! for once to play thro' the long, the lovely day,
To laugh before the year grows old!
There is silver moonlight on the breast of the river
Where the willows tremble to the kiss of night,
Where the nine tall aspens in the meadow shiver,
Shiver in the night wind that turns them white.
And the lamps, the lamps are lit, the lamps are glow-worms light,
Between the silver aspens and the west's last gold.
And it's oh! to drink delight in the lovely lonely night,
To be young before the heart grows old!
~ Edith Nesbit,#NFDB
1476:Tell me—what wouldn’t you do for Violet, Captain Flint?”
Flint didn’t yet know the answer to this. Though he was perhaps closer to knowing.
“I haven’t yet been tested.”
Lyon smiled slowly at this, and shook his head. “Ah. Clearly you haven’t a soul of a poet, then, sir. You cannot be lured into hyperbole: ‘There’s nothing I wouldn’t do! Nothing!’ And etcetera. I can. I like hyperbole. Don’t fear it, Flint! Believe me, there’s some truth to all the purple words that surround love, you know. When you love someone more than life—and it is indeed possible to love someone more than life, or otherwise poets wouldn’t have gone on and on about it over the centuries—and you know, you know, you were born for only one person…imagine you cannot have them without tearing everything else you know asunder. Without hurting and disappointing all the other people you love. What then would you do? ~ Julie Anne Long,#NFDB
1477:Then the thought had come to Polly that the velvet cloak didn't cover a right motherly heart, that the fretful face under the nodding purple plumes was not a tender motherly face, and that the hands in the delicate primrose gloves had put away something very sweet and precious. She thought of another woman whose dress never was too fine for little wet cheeks to lie against, or loving little arms to press; whose face, in spite of many lines and the grey hairs above it, was never sour or unsympathetic when children's eyes turned towards it; and whose hands never were too busy, too full or too nice to welcome and serve the little sons and daughters who freely brought their small hopes and fears, sins and sorrows, to her, who dealt out justice and mercy with such wise love. Ah that's a mother thought Polly, as the memory came warm into her heart, making her feel very rich, and pity Maud for being so poor. ~ Louisa May Alcott, #NFDB
1478:I had some serious problems.
My best friend counted me with his enemies.
Victoria was still on the loose, putting everyone I loved in danger.
If I didn't become a vampire soon, the Volturi would kill me.
And now it seemed if I did, the Quileute werewolves would try to do the job themselves―along with trying to kill my future familiy. I didn't think they had any chance really, but would my best friend get himself killed in the attempt?
Very serious problems. So why did they all suddenly seem insignificant when we broke through the last of the trees and I caught sight of the expression on Charlie's purple face?
Edward squeezed me gently. "I'm here."
I drew in a deep breath.
That was true. Edward was here, with his arms around me.
I could face anything as long as that was true.
I squared my shoulders and walked forward to meet my fate, with my destiny solidly at my side. ~ Stephenie Meyer,#NFDB
1479:In A Southern Garden
WHEN the tall bamboos are clicking to the restless little breeze,
And bats begin their jerky skimming flight,
And the creamy scented blossoms of the dark pittosporum trees,
Grow sweeter with the coming of the night.
And the harbour in the distance lies beneath a purple pall,
And nearer, at the garden’s lowest fringe,
Loud the water soughs and gurgles ’mid the rocks below the wall,
Dark-heaving, with a dim uncanny tinge
Of a green as pale as beryls, like the strange faint-coloured flame
That burns around the Women of the Sea:
And the strip of sky to westward which the camphorlaurels frame,
Has turned to ash-of-rose and ivory—
And a chorus rises valiantly from where the crickets hide,
Close-shaded by the balsams drooping down—
It is evening in a garden by the kindly water-side,
A garden near the lights of Sydney town!
~ Dorothea Mackellar,#NFDB
1480:Mom! Look. This one is my favorite," Devin said, pulling out a faded pink dress with a red plaid sash. The crinoline petticoat underneath was so old and stiff it made snapping sounds, like beads or fire embers. She dropped the dress over her head, over her clothes. It brushed the floor. "When I'm old enough for it to fit me, I'm going to wear it with purple shoes," she said.
"A bold choice," Kate said as Devin dove back into the trunk. The attic in Kate's mother's house had always fascinated Devin with its promise of hidden treasures. When Kate's mother had been alive, she had let Devin eat Baby Ruth candy bars and drink grape soda and play in this old trunk full of dresses that generations of Morris women had worn to try entice rich men to marry them. Most of the clothes had belonged to Kate's grandmother Marilee, a renowned beauty who, like all the rest, had fallen in love with a poor man instead. ~ Sarah Addison Allen,#NFDB
1481:Some three halfe pennyworth of Latine here also had he throwen at his face, but it was choise stuffe I can tell you, as there is a choise euen amongest ragges gathered vp from the dunghill. At the townes end met him the burgers and dunstical incorporationers of Wittenberg in their distinguished liueries, their distinguished liuerie faces I mene, for they were most of them hot liuered dronkards, and had all the coate coulours of sanguin, purple, crimson, copper, carnation that were to be had in their countenaunces. Filthy knaues, no cost had they bestowed on the town for his welcome, sauing new painted their houghs & bousing houses, which commonly are built fayrer than their Churches, and ouer their gates set the town armes, which sounded gulping after this sort, Vanhotten, slotten, irk bloshen glotten gelderslike: what euer the wordes were, the sense was this, Good drinke is a medicine for all diseases. A ~ Thomas Nashe, #NFDB
1482:The large drawing-room was an immense, long room, with a sort of gallery that ran from one pavilion to the other, taking up the whole of the façade on the garden side. A large French window opened on to the steps. This gallery glittered with gold. The ceiling, gently arched, had fanciful scrolls winding round great gilt medallions, that shone like bucklers. Bosses and dazzling garlands encircled the arch; fillets of gold, resembling threads of molten metal, ran round the walls, framing the panels, which were hung with red silk; festoons of roses, topped with tufts of full-blown blossoms, hung down along the sides of the mirrors. An Aubusson carpet spread its purple flowers over the polished flooring. The furniture of red silk damask, the door-hangings and window-curtains of the same material, the huge ormolu clock on the mantel-piece, the porcelain vases standing on the consoles, the legs of the two long tables ~ mile Zola, #NFDB
1483:Memories Of The Pacific Coast
I know a land, I, too,
Where warm keen incense on the sea-wind blows,
And all the winter long the skies are blue,
And the brown deserts blossom with the rose.
Deserts of all delight,
Cactus and palm and earth of thirsty gold,
Dark purple blooms round eaves of sun-washed white,
And that Hesperian fruit men sought of old.
O, to be wandering there,
Under the palm-trees, on that sunset shore,
Where the waves break in song, and the bright air
Is crystal clean; and peace is ours, once more.
There Beauty dwells,
Beauty, re-born in whiteness from the foam;
And Youth returns with all its magic spells,
And the heart finds its long-forgotten home,-Home--home! Where is that land?
For, when I dream it found, the old hungering cry
Aches in the soul, drives me from all I planned,
And sets my sail to seek another sky.
~ Alfred Noyes,#NFDB
1484:On the other side of that big-ass mirror, a video camera was watching us. In about ten seconds, it was going to start spitting static at itself, and everything it saw was going to break up into a fuzzy, gray-white wash, rolling up and down, that wouldn’t be admissible as evidence on Judge Judy. Those missing frames would last a little less than a quarter of a minute, consolidate themselves back
into a semblance of reality, and then I would theoretically go walking right back out of here.
Between now and that moment, there stretched an infinite ocean of potential
time. Time enough to walk around the world. Time enough to fall in love, get
married on a white beach under purple stars, write a book of poems about
truest passion, have a few good and bloody screaming matches, get divorced in a court of autumn elves and gypsy moths, then set the ink-stained, tear-streaked pages of your text ablaze. ~ Clinton Boomer,#NFDB
1485:In addition to a stack of small white plates, a basket of rolled cloth napkins, and a pile of polished silver forks, there is baked Brie in puff pastry, caviar with blinis (caviar!), a shallow bowl of beautiful purple grapes with a sterling silver pair of scissors placed beside it, poached shrimp with cocktail sauce, and a pale pink mold in the shape of a fish with crackers surrounding it, thin lemon slices and capers on top.
"That's not the salmon mousse from the Silver Palate, is it?" I ask. The salmon mousse from the Silver Palate is perhaps my favorite thing to eat in the world.
"Oh shoot," she says, and I can all but imagine her stomping her little foot. "You found me out. Is it just so tacky I brought in food from the city? I did press the mousse into the fish mold myself, and I also fixed the Brie. That is, I put some apricot jam on it and wrapped it in Pepperidge Farm puff pastry dough. ~ Susan Rebecca White,#NFDB
1486:One Monday, just for sport, Charlie grabbed an eggplant that a spectacularly wizened granny was going for, but instead of twisting it out of his hand with some mystic kung fu move as he expected, she looked him in the eye and shook her head - just a jog, barely perceptible really - it might have been a tic, but it was the most eloquent of gestures. Charlie read it as saying: O White Devil, you do not want to purloin that purple fruit, for I have four thousand years of ancestors and civilization on you; my grandparents built the railroads and dug the silver mines, and my parents survived the earthquake, the fire, and a society that outlawed even being Chinese; I am mother to a dozen, grandmother to a hundred, and great-grandmother to a legion; I have birthed babies and washed the dead; I am history and suffering and wisdom; I am a Buddha and a dragon; so get your fucking hand off my eggplant before you lose it. ~ Christopher Moore, #NFDB
1487:Be courteous, kind, and forgiving.
Be gentle and peaceful each day.
Be warm and human and grateful.
Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike, Be witty and happy and wise.
Be honest and love all your neighbors.
Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant.
Be pompous, obese, and eat cactus.
Be dull and boring and omnipresent.
Criticize things that you don't know about.
Be oblong and have your knees removed.
Be sure to stop at stop signs,
And drive fifty-five miles an hour.
Pick up a hitchhiker foaming at the mouth.
And when you get home get a master's degree in geology.
Be tasteless , rude, and offensive.
Live in a swamp and be three- dimensional.
Put a live chicken in your underwear.
Go into a closet and suck eggs.
"Now, everyone," repeat
Added- Ladies only: Never make love to bigfoot!
Men only: Hello, my name is bigfoot. ~ Steve Martin,#NFDB
1488:cabin for a long moment. Just looking at it made her smile. It was tiny and whimsical – a cedar sided A-frame with a bright green roof and purple trim, complete with a purple star at the point of the A-frame. It sat in a small open area amongst spruce and alder. The hill tumbled down behind it, offering a wide-open view of Kachemak Bay. She’d been in Diamond Creek, Alaska for almost three years. The sun was rising behind the mountains across the bay, streaks of gold and pink reaching into the sky and filtering through the wispy clouds that sat above the mountains this morning. The air was cool and crisp, typical for an Alaskan summer morning. When the sun was high, the chill would dissipate. A faded blue Subaru pulled into the driveway. Susie climbed out of her car, grabbed some fishing gear and walked to Emma’s truck. “Morning! Sorry I’m late,” Susie said. Emma reached over and took a fishing rod out of Susie’s hands. ~ J H Croix, #NFDB
1489:You’re either remarkable or invisible,” says Seth Godin in his 2002 bestseller, Purple Cow.1 As he elaborated in a Fast Company manifesto he published on the subject: “The world is full of boring stuff—brown cows—which is why so few people pay attention…. A purple cow… now that would stand out. Remarkable marketing is the art of building things worth noticing.”2 When Giles read Godin’s book, he had an epiphany: For his mission to build a sustainable career, it had to produce purple cows, the type of remarkable projects that compel people to spread the word. But this left him with a second question: In the world of computer programming, where does one launch remarkable projects? He found his second answer in a 2005 career guide with a quirky title: My Job Went to India: 52 Ways to Save Your Job.3 The book was written by Chad Fowler, a well-known Ruby programmer who also dabbles in career advice for software developers. ~ Cal Newport, #NFDB
1490:Suddenly I was struck by the heavy fragrance of flowers. On the other side there was a garden about the size of a small room, a plot of ground raised by fill to the height of our belts. And full of flowers. A special, luxuriant flora. Long stemmed, with horn-shaped flowers whose petals were like black velvet. In one corner, a bush like a lily, arrayed with giant white blossoms like goblets. And scattered through that garden, thin-stemmed plants with white flowers marked by a single pink petal. It seemed that these gave off an exotic sweetness that cloyed and choked. In the midst of it all a bunch of fat crimson flowers lay tumbled, their silky, fleshy blossoms dipping down among the long stems of furious green grasses. This small, magical plot seemed a kaleidoscope. Just in front of my eyes purple irises bloomed up. A myriad fragrances mingled in its dazzling scent, and every hue of the rainbow glowed from those flowers. ~ G za Cs th, #NFDB
1491:We have plenty of matches in our house
We keep them on hand always
Currently our favourite brand
Is Ohio Blue Tip
Though we used to prefer Diamond Brand
That was before we discovered
Ohio Blue Tip matches
They are excellently packaged
Sturdy little boxes
With dark and light blue and white labels
With words lettered
In the shape of a megaphone
As if to say even louder to the world
Here is the most beautiful match in the world
It’s one-and-a-half-inch soft pine stem
Capped by a grainy dark purple head
So sober and furious and stubbornly ready
To burst into flame
Lighting, perhaps the cigarette of the woman you love
For the first time
And it was never really the same after that
All this will we give you
That is what you gave me
I become the cigarette and you the match
Or I the match and you the cigarette
Blazing with kisses that smoulder towards heaven. ~ Ron Padgett,#NFDB
1492:After The Storm
The air is full of after-thunder freshness,
And everything rejoices and revives.
With the whole outburst of its purple clusters
The lilac drinks the air of paradise.
The gutters overflow; the change of weather
Makes all you see appear alive and new.
Meanwhile the shades of sky are growing lighter,
Beyond the blackest cloud the height is blue.
An artist's hand, with mastery still greater
Wipes dirt and dust off objects in his path.
Reality and life, the past and present,
Emerge transformed out of his colour-bath.
The memory of over half a lifetime
Like swiftly passing thunder dies away.
The century is no more under wardship:
High time to let the future have its say.
It is not revolutions and upheavals
That clear the road to new and better days,
But revelations, lavishness and torments
Of someone's soul, inspired and ablaze.
~ Boris Pasternak,#NFDB
1493:Dream-Land
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti,#NFDB
1494:When this all started, when the US of A got into this war and the Supreme Court decided what the hell, let's send women to, everyone wondered what effect it would have.
Could women fight my girl Rio has a shiny Silver Star, A fistful of Purple Hearts, and a notched M1 that say yes.
Could the men fight alongside women, or would the simple creatures be too distracted by feminine curves? Well, I won't spend a long night in a hole with Luther gear, who has never been a gentleman but he is a good soldier and he never made a pass at me. Possibly he was distracted by the artillery garage coming down on our heads. Possibly was that I hadn't showered in ... God only knows how long you have to ask my fleas. We were not a man and a woman in that hole we were too scared little babies screaming and cursing and so we could be grateful for the warmth of our own piss running down our legs.
It was not a romantic evening. ~ Michael Grant,#NFDB
1495:Why are we bringing him along, again?" Will inquired, of the world in general as well as his sister.
Cecily put her hands on her hips. "Why are you bringing Tessa?"
"Because Tessa and I are going to be married," Will said, and Tessa smiled; the way that Will's little sister could ruffle his feathers like no one else was still amusing to her.
"Well, Gabriel and I might well be married," Cecily said. "Someday."
Gabriel made a choking noise, and turned an alarming shade of purple.
Will threw up his hands. "You can't be married Cecily! You're only fifteen! When I get married, I'll be eighteen! An adult!"
Cecily did not look impressed. "We may have a long engagement," she said. "But I cannot see why you are counseling me to marry a man my parents have never met."
Will sputtered. "I am not counseling you to marry a man your parents have never met!"
"Then we are in agreement. Gabriel must meet Mam and Dad. ~ Cassandra Clare,#NFDB
1496:1207
What Care The Dead, For Chanticleer
592
What care the Dead, for Chanticleer—
What care the Dead for Day?
'Tis late your Sunrise vex their face—
And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning
Pour as blank on them
As on the Tier of Wall
The Mason builded, yesterday,
And equally as cool—
What care the Dead for Summer?
The Solstice had no Sun
Could waste the Snow before their Gate—
And knew One Bird a Tune—
Could thrill their Mortised Ear
Of all the Birds that be—
This One—beloved of Mankind
Henceforward cherished be—
What care the Dead for Winter?
Themselves as easy freeze—
June Noon—as January Night—
As soon the South—her Breeze
Of Sycamore—or Cinnamon—
Deposit in a Stone
And put a Stone to keep it Warm—
Give Spices—unto Men—
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
1497:No doubt you are aware that the winds have colour... A record of this belief will be found in the literature of all ancient peoples. There are four winds and eight sub-winds each with its own colour. The wind from the east is a deep purple, from the south a fine shining silver. The north wind is a hard black and the west is amber. People in the old days had the power of perceiving these colours and could spend a day sitting quietly on a hillside watching the beauty of the winds, their fall and rise and changing hues, the magic of neighbouring winds when they are inter-weaved like ribbons at a wedding. It was a better occupation than gazing at newspapers. The sub-winds had colours of indescribable delicacy, a reddish-yellow half-way between silver and purple, a greyish-green which was related equally to black and brown. What could be more exquisite than a countryside swept lightly by cool rain reddened by the south-west breeze'. ~ Flann O Brien, #NFDB
1498:Dream Land
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,#NFDB
1499:It was only twenty-five years ago that the philosopher Joseph Levine officially dubbed it the explanatory gap, which he later described in his book Purple Haze: We have no idea, I contend, how a physical object could constitute a subject of experience, enjoying, not merely instantiating, states with all sorts of qualitative character. As I now look at my red diskette case, I’m having a visual experience that is reddish in character. Light of a particular composition is bouncing off the diskette case and stimulating my retina in a particular way. That retinal stimulation now causes further impulses down the optic nerve, eventually causing various neural events in the visual cortex. Where in all of this can we see the events that explain my having a reddish experience? There seems to be no discernible connection between the physical description and the mental one, and thus no explanation of the latter in terms of the former.2 ~ Michael S Gazzaniga, #NFDB
1500:Love Poem
We have plenty of matches in our house
We keep them on hand always
Currently our favourite brand
Is Ohio Blue Tip
Though we used to prefer Diamond Brand
That was before we discovered
Ohio Blue Tip matches
They are excellently packaged
Sturdy little boxes
With dark and light blue and white labels
With words lettered
In the shape of a megaphone
As if to say even louder to the world
Here is the most beautiful match in the world
It’s one-and-a-half-inch soft pine stem
Capped by a grainy dark purple head
So sober and furious and stubbornly ready
To burst into flame
Lighting, perhaps the cigarette of the woman you love
For the first time
And it was never really the same after thatAll this will we give you
That is what you gave me
I become the cigarette and you the match
Or I the match and you the cigarette
Blazing with kisses that smoulder towards heaven. ~ Ron Padgett,#NFDB
159 Poetry
50 Fiction
22 Occultism
16 Integral Yoga
15 Mythology
12 Mysticism
11 Philosophy
10 Philsophy
9 Christianity
5 Psychology
1 Theosophy
1 Thelema
1 Hinduism
1 Alchemy
34 Percy Bysshe Shelley
24 Sri Aurobindo
18 H P Lovecraft
15 John Keats
13 Robert Browning
13 Ovid
12 William Wordsworth
12 William Butler Yeats
11 Aleister Crowley
10 Ralph Waldo Emerson
9 The Mother
9 Satprem
8 Walt Whitman
8 Friedrich Schiller
6 Lucretius
6 Edgar Allan Poe
5 James George Frazer
3 Saint Augustine of Hippo
3 Plato
3 Hafiz
3 Carl Jung
2 Moses de Leon
2 Li Bai
2 Joseph Campbell
2 Jorge Luis Borges
2 Friedrich Nietzsche
2 Franz Bardon
34 Shelley - Poems
18 Lovecraft - Poems
15 Keats - Poems
13 Savitri
13 Metamorphoses
13 Browning - Poems
12 Yeats - Poems
12 Wordsworth - Poems
10 Emerson - Poems
8 Whitman - Poems
8 Schiller - Poems
6 Poe - Poems
6 Of The Nature Of Things
6 Liber ABA
5 The Golden Bough
5 The Bible
5 Collected Poems
4 Magick Without Tears
3 Hafiz - Poems
3 City of God
3 Agenda Vol 01
2 Thus Spoke Zarathustra
2 The Secret Doctrine
2 The Hero with a Thousand Faces
2 Prayers And Meditations
2 Mysterium Coniunctionis
2 Li Bai - Poems
2 Crowley - Poems
2 Agenda Vol 02
2 A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah
2 5.1.01 - Ilion
0.00 - The Book of Lies Text, #The Book of Lies, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
This chapter is called Imperial purple
and A Punic War.
--
82. Bortsch: also Imperial purple (and A PUNIC WAR).
83. The Blind Pig.
0 1960-07-12 - Mothers Vision - the Voice, the ashram a tiny part of myself, the Mothers Force, sparkling white light compressed - enormous formation of negative vibrations - light in evil, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Its form was elongated, slanting downwards (it always has this form). At the top it looked like a head, then the lines disappeared down below. It had no openings. And then, it was surrounded by various dark sheaths, a very dark purple which is the color of protection. A sparkling light was entering into itit kept entering, but without making any holes. It passed right through everything, through the purplethrough everything. It passed through and entered inside, where there were sparklings of every color, like a cascade. There are always these cascades of forcesimilar to a cascading stream whose waters neither flow on nor disappear, but accumulate: an accumulation of energies, a condensation. And they accumulate without taking up any more space through a kind of compression. And inside, its moving, vibrating, vibrating, vibrating, it keeps coming and comingyou dont know where it comes from, but it keeps coming and accumulating.
It was a force with a sparkling white light at its center, the light which is the force of the Divine Mother, and as soon as it was well packed and concentrated inside, or condensed, it took on all the colorsvibrations of every color Like a materialization these colors were like a materialization of the Divine Force when it enters matter. (Just as matter is a condensation of energy, well, this seemed to be a condensation of Divine Force. Thats really the impression it gave.)
0 1960-09-20, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Along the way, I once went down into this physical mind for awhile to try to set it right, to organize it a little (it was done rather quickly, I didnt stay there long). So when I went inside X, I saw It was rather curious, for its the opposite of the method we follow. In his material consciousness (physical and vital), he has trained himself to be impersonal, open, limitless, in communication with all the universal forces. In the physical mind, silence, immobility. But in the speculative mind, the one there at the very top of the head what an organization, phew! All the tradition in its most superb organization, but such a ri-gi-dity! And it had a pretty quality of light, a silver blueVERY pretty. Oh, it was very calm, wonderfully calm and quiet and still. But what a ceiling it had!the outer form resembled rigid cubes. Everything inside was beautiful, but that There was a very large cube right at the top, I recall, bordered by a purple line, which is a line of powerall this was quite luminous. It looked like a pyramid; the smaller cubes formed a kind of base, the lower part of which faded into something cloudy, and then this passed imperceptibly downwards to a more material realm, or in other words, the physical mind. The cube on top was the largest and most luminous, and the least yieldingeven inflexible, you could say. The others were somewhat less defined, and at the bottom it was very blurred. But up at the top!thats where I wanted to go, right to the top.
When I got there, I felt a moment of anguish; my feeling was that nothing could be done. Not for him in particular, but universally, for all those in his categoryit seemed hopeless.6 If that was perfection, then nothing more could be done. This lasted only a second, but it was painful. And then I tried that is, I wanted to bring my consciousness down into the highest cubethis eternal, universal and infinite consciousness which is the first and foremost expression of the manifestation but nothing doing. It was impossible. I tried for several minutes and saw that it was absolutely impossible. So I had to make a curious movement (I couldnt get through it, it was impassable), I had to come back down into the so-called lower consciousness (not lower, actuallyit was vast and impersonal), and from there I came out and regained my equilibrium. This is what gave me that splitting headache I told you about. I came out of there as if I were carrying the weight the weight of an irreducible absoluteit was dreadful. Unfortunately, I was unable to rest afterwards, and as people were waiting to see me, I had to talkwhich is very tiring for me. And this produced a bubbling in my head, like a this dark blue light of power in matter was there, shot through with streaks of white and gold, and all this was flashing back and forth in my head, this way and that way I thought I was going to have a stroke! (Mother laughs)
0 1960-10-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
She was a small woman, fat, almost flabbyshe gave you the feeling that if you leaned against her, it would melt! Once, I remember I was there in Tlemcen with Andres father, who had come to join usa painter, an artist. Theon was wearing a dark purple robe. Theon said to him, This robe is purple. No, its not purple, the other answered, its violet. Theon went rigid: When I say purple, its purple! And they started arguing over this foolishness. Suddenly there flashed from my head, No, this is too ridiculous!I didnt say a word, but it went out from my head (I even saw the flash), and then Madame Theon got up and came over to me, stood behind me (neither of us uttered a word the other two were staring at each other like two angry cocks), then she laid my head against her breastabsolutely the feeling of sinking into eiderdown!
And never in my life, never, had I felt such peaceit was absolutely luminous and soft a peace, such a soft, tender, luminous peace. After a moment, she bent down and whispered in my ear, One must never question ones master! It wasnt I who was questioning!
0 1961-03-25, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
It was mainly on your right side I banged on it. But strangely enough, it didnt break it became supple, but then it lost its beauty. (It was so beautiful, as though sculptured!) I tried to pass through it, but to do so (this is what I found interesting), instead of passing through at this level (the chest), the psychic plane the level of the souls vibration I had to climb up above and then descend; and finally, without even realizing it, I found myself inside I had entered through sheer force of concentration. There, at the vital level, the emotional vital (solar plexus), I put two flowers: one very large Endurance in the Most Material Vital [zinnia] and another flower like the one X just gave me [cosmos] but bigger and pure white (it concerns sexual movements, light in sexual movements). But curiously enough, I passed inside through a trance; I was quite busy trying to make it more fluid when all at once, poof! I found myself inside. But since I entered through a trance it became completely objective: no more thought, nothing. And I saw I had put these two flowers there (at the levels of the abdomen and chest), one more active, a very large, dark purple Endurance flower, and another much smaller, pure white, slightly lower down. While I was watching this I think the clock must have struck something pulled me and it all faded away.
And I found it interesting that when I received your letter yesterday evening I concentrated for a moment, almost out of curiosity: Why doesnt he ever feel he has an experience? Why doesnt he feel anything? I wanted to know precisely what type of experience would give you the feeling of having an experience!
0 1961-12-20, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
As for Theon, he was European and wore a long purple robe that wasnt at all like the one in my vision. (Im not sure, but I think he was either Polish or Russian, but more probably Russian, of Jewish descent, and that he was forced to leave his country; he never said anything about this to anyone, its only an impression.) When I saw him I recognized him as a being of great power. And he bore a certain likeness to Sri Aurobindo: Theon was about the same size (not a tall man, of medium height) and thin, slim, with quite a similar profile. But when I met Theon I saw (or rather I felt) that he was not the man I saw in my vision because he didnt have that vibration. Yet it was he who first taught me things, and I went and worked at Tlemcen for two years in a row. But this other thing was always there in the background of the consciousness.
Then when Richard came here he met Sri Aurobindo (he was haunted by the idea of meeting the Master, the Guru, the Great Teacher). Sri Aurobindo was in hiding, seeing no one, but when Richard insisted, he met him, and Richard returned with a photograph. It was one of those early photos, with nothing in it. It was empty, the remnants of the political man, not at all resembling what I had seen I didnt recognize him. Its strange, I said to myself, thats not it (for I saw only his external appearance, there was no inner contact). But still, I was curious to meet him. At any rate, I cant say that when I saw this photograph I felt, Hes the one! Not at all. He impressed me as being a very interesting man, but no more.
0 1963-05-18, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Of course, all these things are lights, so you cant reproduce them. But still, it must be a violet that is not dull and not dark (Mother starts from the most material Nature). What she has put is too red, but if its too blue, it wont be good eitheryou understand the difficulty? Then after violet there is blue, which must be truly blue, not too light, but it must be a bright blue. Not too light because there are three consecutive blues: there is the blue of the Mind, and then comes the Higher Mind, which is paler, and then the Illumined Mind, which is the color of the flag [Mothers flag], a silver blue, but naturally paler than that. And after this comes yellow, a yellow that is the yellow of the Intuitive Mind; it must not be golden, it must be the color of cadmium. Then after this yellow, which is pale, we have the Overmind with all the colors they must all be bright colors, not dark: blue, red, green, violet, purple, yellow, all of them, all the colors. And after that, we then have all the golds of the Supermind, with its three layers. And then, after that, there is one layer of golden whiteit is white, but a golden white. After this golden white, there is silver whitesilver white: how can I explain that? (H. has sent me some ridiculous pictures of a sun shining on waterit has nothing to do with that.) If you put silver, silver gray (Mother shows a silver box nearby shining brilliantly in the sun), silver gray together with white that is, it is white, but if you put the four whites together you see the difference. There is a white white, then there is a white with a touch of pink, then a silvery white and a golden white. It makes four worlds.
I have explained this [to H.] as I am explaining it to you, but H. has not seen it so she cant understand. I want to show her on paper. It is twelve different things [or twelve worlds], one after another.1
0 1967-02-04, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Why? Theres a purple V in front of you. A purple Vnot purple: dark mauve, the colour of the vital. A V for victory.
Has something happened?
02.03 - The Glory and the Fall of Life, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
And griefless countries under purple suns.
This, once a star of bright remote idea
--
She crowned the Idea a king in purple robes,
Put her magic serpent sceptre in Thought's grip,
02.06 - The Kingdoms and Godheads of the Greater Life, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Lit the dense purple barrier of thought's sky:
A dim large trance showed to the night her stars.
02.09 - The Paradise of the Life-Gods, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
And woods of quivering purple solitude;
Below him lay like gleaming jewelled thoughts
02.10 - The Kingdoms and Godheads of the Little Mind, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
A half-intuition purpled in its sense;
It threw the lightning’s fork and hit the unseen.
02.11 - The Kingdoms and Godheads of the Greater Mind, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
It wears once more a purple robe of thought
And knows itself the Ideal's seer and king,
04.01 - The Birth and Childhood of the Flame, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
In ceaseless motion round the purple rim
Day after day sped by like coloured spokes,
05.02 - Satyavan, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Fill his youth's purple ambience and endured
The haunting miracle of a perfect face.
05.03 - Satyavan and Savitri, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Couched on a purple robe of sky above
Look down on a rich secrecy and hush
06.02 - The Way of Fate and the Problem of Pain, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Assailed the purple glory of the noon
And disappeared like a receding star
07.01 - The Joy of Union; the Ordeal of the Foreknowledge, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Day was a purple pageant and a hymn,
A wave of the laughter of light from morn to eve.
07.04 - The Triple Soul-Forces, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
A Woman sat in gold and purple sheen,
Armed with the trident and the thunderbolt,
07.05 - The Finding of the Soul, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Trailed heaven like a purple scarf and wore
As his vermilion caste-mark a red sun.
10.03 - The Debate of Love and Death, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
A glory is his dream of purple sky.
A march of his greatness are the wheeling stars.
1.00b - Introduction, #The Perennial Philosophy, #Aldous Huxley, #Philosophy
The middle along the magician up to the globe is dark purple, representing the sign of the akasa principle
Above the magicians head, with an invisible ribbon for a crown, there is a goldedged silvery white lotus flower as a sign of the divinity. In the inside there is the ruby red philosophers stone symbolizing the quintessence of the whole hermetic science. On the right side in the background there is the sun, yellow like gold and on the left side we see the moon, silvery-white, expressing plus and minus in the macro and microcosm, the electrical and magnetical fluids.
--
The eternal, the infinite, the boundless, and the uncreated have been expressed symbolically by the word AUM and the dark purple to black colour.
Initiation I
1.00e - DIVISION E - MOTION ON THE PHYSICAL AND ASTRAL PLANES, #A Treatise on Cosmic Fire, #Alice Bailey, #Occultism
a. Between the eyebrows, consisting of ninety-six petals, one-half of the lotus being rose and yellow, and the other half blue and purple.
b. The very top of the head. A centre consisting of twelve major petals of white and gold, and nine hundred and sixty secondary petals arranged around the central twelve. This makes a total of ten hundred and sixty-eight petals in the two head centres (making the one centre) or three hundred and fifty-six triplicities. All these figures have an occult significance.
1.01 - BOOK THE FIRST, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
And saw the palace by the purple light.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
1.01 - Economy, #Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience, #Henry David Thoreau, #Philosophy
All costume off a man is pitiful or grotesque. It is only the serious eye peering from and the sincere life passed within it, which restrain laughter and consecrate the costume of any people. Let Harlequin be taken with a fit of the colic and his trappings will have to serve that mood too. When the soldier is hit by a cannon ball rags are as becoming as purple.
The childish and savage taste of men and women for new patterns keeps how many shaking and squinting through kaleidoscopes that they may discover the particular figure which this generation requires today.
1.01 - The King of the Wood, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
legends which traced their spilt blood in the purple bloom of the
violet, the scarlet stain of the anemone, or the crimson flush of
1.01 - To Watanabe Sukefusa, #Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin, #unset, #Zen
"Look," he said baring his shoulder. "It is still hot and extremely painful." There was an ugly, purple scar burn several inches square, blackened at the center. "Oh, how miserable I am! What have
I done to deserve this!" he wept sadly. Then he began shouting out delirious cries, begging for medicine and hollering loud prayers. His suffering continued throughout the next night and the following nights as well. The purple scar on his shoulder grew steadily larger and more inflamed, festering and filling with pus, and producing an excruciating heat that became gradually more intense.
His tongue became scorched in his mouth. His breath was foul. His hair all fell out. He became so filthy and unsightly no one could bear to look at him.
1.02 - BOOK THE SECOND, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
Of blazing gems, with purple garments on;
The Hours, in order rang'd on either hand,
--
When now the moon disclos'd her purple rays;
The stars were fled, for Lucifer had chased
1.03 - BOOK THE THIRD, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
The ruddy welkin, or the purple morn;
And tho' the crowding nymphs her body hide,
--
With all the purple youthfulness of face,
That gently blushes in the wat'ry glass.
--
In such a blush as purple clusters show,
Ere yet the sun's autumnal heats refine
--
The purple vests, and flow'ry garlands please.
Stand then aside, I'll make the counterfeit
1.03 - Supernatural Aid, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
the edge of a burnished blade and cheeks like purple wine or
anemones blood-red: her lips as coral and cornelian shine and
1.03 - The Sephiros, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
Its plants are the Mandrake and Damiana, both of whose aphrodisiac qualities are well known. Its perfume is Jas- mine, also a sexual excitant ; its colour purple ; its Sepher
Yetsirah title, "The Pure or Clear Intelligence"; its number 9, and its Tarot correspondence the four Nines.
1.04 - BOOK THE FOURTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
Was doom'd for ever to a purple fruit.
Mean-time poor Thisbe fear'd, so long she stay'd,
--
Still witness in thy purple fruit our blood.
She spoke, and in her bosom plung'd the sword,
--
But here, and there, some purple streaks they gain'd.
Still the lov'd object the fond leafs pursue,
--
While purple clusters, dangling from on high,
Ting'd the wrought purple with a second die.
Now from the skies was shot a doubtful light,
--
The rising Phospher with a purple light
Did sluggish mortals to new toils invite.
1.05 - AUERBACHS CELLAR, #Faust, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
And purple grapes at hand!
BRANDER
1.05 - BOOK THE FIFTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
A purple mantle fring'd with gold he wore;
His neck well-turn'd with golden chains was grac'd,
--
Within the channel of her purple veins;
Nothing to fill love's grasp; her husb and chaste
1.05 - The Magical Control of the Weather, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
wings of pasteboard; his purple mantle was taken away and a clout
wrapt about him instead. At Licata the patron saint, St. Angelo,
1.05 - The Second Circle The Wanton. Minos. The Infernal Hurricane. Francesca da Rimini., #The Divine Comedy, #Dante Alighieri, #Christianity
Who visiting goest through the purple air
Us, who have stained the world incarnadine,
1.06 - BOOK THE SIXTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
To give the spungy fleece a purple dye:
Of vulgar strain her mother, lately dead,
--
Then disappear'd; as purple streaks adorn
The opening beauties of the rosy morn;
--
With glowing purple of the Tyrian dye:
Or, justly intermixing shades with light,
--
And let the soul gush out in streams of purple gore.
But Damasichthon, by a double wound,
--
Stagnate, and dull, within her purple veins,
Its current stop'd, the lifeless blood remains.
--
In purple notes, her wretched case betray'd:
The piece, when finish'd, secretly she gave
--
Run down in purple streams of clotted gore.
Ask'd by his wife to this inhuman feast,
1.07 - BOOK THE SEVENTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
With iv'ry scepter, and in purple drest.
Forthwith the brass-hoof'd bulls are set at large,
--
Scarce was the knife with the pale purple stain'd,
And no presages cou'd be then obtain'd,
1.07 - The Three Schools of Magick 2, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
Moreover I behld a vision of a river. There was a little boat thereon; and in it under purple sails was a golden woman, an image of Asi wrought in finest gold. Also the river was of blood, and the boat of shining steel. Then I loved her; and, loosing my girdle, cast myself into the stream.
I gathered myself into the little boat, and for many days and nights did I love her, burning beautiful incense before her.
1.08a - The Ladder, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
Sun lifts itself majestically over the misty purple banks of vibrating cloud-forms in the distant horizon, and one lifts up one's arms in ecstatic joy to the golden dawn in a mighty gesture of glorification, of blissful praise :
" Hail unto Thee who art Ra in thy rising, even unto
1.08 - BOOK THE EIGHTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
On whose grey head a lock of purple hue,
The strength, and fortune of his kingdom, grew.
--
Hither the daughter of the purple king
Ascended oft, to hear its musick ring;
--
His purple lock my sanguine hope destroys,
And clouds the prospect of my rising joys.
--
This purple lock, a pledge of love, receive;
No worthless present, since in it I give
1.08 - Origin of Rudra: his becoming eight Rudras, #Vishnu Purana, #Vyasa, #Hinduism
In the beginning of the Kalpa, as Brahmā purposed to create a son, who should be like himself, a youth of a purple complexion[2] appeared, crying with a low cry, and running about[3]. Brahmā, when he beheld him thus afflicted, said to him, "Why dost thou weep?" "Give me a name," replied the boy. "Rudra be thy name," rejoined the great father of all creatures: "be composed; desist from tears." But, thus addressed, the boy still wept seven times, and Brahmā therefore gave to him seven other denominations; and to these eight persons regions and wives and posterity belong. The eight manifestations, then, are named Rudra, Bhava, Śarva, Iśāna, Paśupati, Bhīma, Ugra, and Mahādeva, which were given to them by their great progenitor. He also assigned to them their respective stations, the sun, water, earth, air, fire, ether, the ministrant Brahman, and the moon; for these are their several forms[4]. The wives of the sun and the other manifestations, termed Rudra and the rest, were respectively, Suvercalā, Uṣā, Vikesī, Sivā, Svāhā, Diśā, Dīkṣā, and Rohinī. Now hear an account of their progeny, by whose successive generations this world has been peopled. Their sons, then, were severally, Sanaiścara (Saturn), Śukra (Venus), the fiery-bodied Mars, Manojava (Hanumān), Skanda, Svarga, Santāna, and Budha (Mercury).
It was the Rudra of this description that married Satī, who abandoned her corporeal existence in consequence of the displeasure of Dakṣa[5]. She afterwards was the daughter of Himavān (the snowy mountains) by Menā; and in that character, as the only Umā, the mighty Bhava again married her[6]. The divinities Dhātā and Vidhātā were born to Bhrigu by Khyāti, as was a daughter, Śrī, the wife of Nārāyaṇa, the god of gods[7].
--
ga and Vāyu Purāṇas, as already noticed (p. 38); and these Kumāras are of different complexions in different Kalpas. In the Vaiṣṇava Purāṇas, however, we have only one original form, to which the name of Nīlalohita, the blue and red or purple complexioned is assigned. In the Kūrma this youth comes from Brahmā's mouth: in the Vāyu, from his forehead.
[3]: This is the Paurāṇic etymology: ### or rud, 'to weep,' and dru, 'to run' The grammarians derive the name from rud, 'to weep,' with ra affix.
1.09 - BOOK THE NINTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
His garment, in the reeking purple dy'd,
To rouse love's passion, he presents the bride.
--
The purple tide forsook his veins, with fear;
All moisture left his limbs. Transform'd to stone,
11.07 - The Labours of the Gods: The five Purifications, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Above and next to this region of the viscera, on the other side of the diaphragm, is the region of the thorax, the chest cavity. It contains the ,most important of all human organs, the heart and the lungs, which means the respiratory and the circulatory systems, extending into the solar plexus; and the power that controls it is that of the third element Tejas, the pulsating, radiant energy. It is the energising heat, the warmth of will and aspiration, concentration in the heart; it is also Tapas. It is indeed a form of fire, fire in its essential substance, a quiet white flame against the robust red and crimson and purple fires of earth. It is the mounting urge of consciousness in its rhythmic poise of harmonious strength. And that is the god Aryama of the Vedas, the godhead presiding over the upward surge of evolution. From here comes not merely the drive to go forward, the secret dynamo that moves the being to its goal but also the vision that shows the way and the conditions under which the end is achieved or fulfilled. From here too comes rhythm and the balance and the happy harmony of all movements in life. The calm heave of the lung sand the glad beat of the heart are the sign and symbol of a radiant animation.
We now come to the fourth domain, the domain of Marut; in the physical body it is the mouth, the throat, the tongue, the facial front in general. It is the field of expression, of articulationVak, the word is the symbol. Here is the alert, the mobile field, also a stage for the play, the outward display of all the significances that life movements carry in them, physical or psychological. Speech or utterance is the epitomised or concretised expression of the sense of life movement.
1.10 - ALICE'S EVIDENCE, #Alice in Wonderland, #Lewis Carroll, #Fiction
"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen, turning purple.
"I won't!" said Alice.
1.10 - BOOK THE TENTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
And laurestines, with purple berries crown'd.
With pliant feet, now, ivies this way wind,
--
Ruling his tender mouth with purple reins.
'Twas when the summer sun, at noon of day,
--
Where now, in robes of heav'nly purple drest,
He serves the nectar at th' Almighty's feast,
--
From the green turf a purple flow'r you rise,
And with your fragrant breath perfume the skies.
--
A lilly's form it took; its purple hue
Was all that made a diff'rence to the view,
--
And to this hour the mournful purple wears
Ai, Ai, inscrib'd in funeral characters.
--
With cov'rings of Sydonian purple spread:
The solemn rites perform'd, he calls her bride,
--
Her snowy skin with waving purple die;
As crimson veils in palaces display'd,
--
A flow'r began to rear its purple head:
Such, as on Punick apples is reveal'd,
1.10 - The Magical Garment, #The Practice of Magical Evocation, #Franz Bardon, #Occultism
- purple beings of the Sun - yellow, gold or white beings of Venus
- green beings of Mercury - opalescent, orange beings of the Moon- silver or white
1.11 - BOOK THE ELEVENTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
His patron's noble juice of purple hue,
Touch'd by his lips, a gilded cordial grew;
--
Graceful his purple mantle swept the ground.
High on the left his iv'ry lute he rais'd,
--
A purple turbant folds about his head;
Veils the reproach from publick view, and fears
1.12 - BOOK THE TWELFTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
And sign'd his bosom with a purple dint.
At this the seed of Neptune: Goddess-born,
--
Yet from the wound ensu'd no purple flood;
But look'd a bubbling mass of frying blood.
1.12 - The Superconscient, #Sri Aurobindo or the Adventure of Consciousness, #Satprem, #Integral Yoga
And griefless countries under purple suns.207
On May 5, 1909, after one year of confinement, Sri Aurobindo was acquitted. He owed his life to two unexpected events. One of the prisoners had betrayed him, denouncing him as the leader of the underground movement. His testimony in court would have meant the death penalty for Sri Aurobindo, but mysteriously he was shot in his cell. Then came the day of the trial, and as everyone sat expecting a verdict of capital punishment, Sri Aurobindo's lawyer was seized by a sudden illumination, which spread through the entire courtroom and profoundly shook the jury: "Long after he is dead and gone, his words will be echoed and re-echoed, not only in India, but across distant seas and lands. Therefore I say that a man in his position is standing not only before the bar of this court, but before the bar of the High Court of History." Sri Aurobindo was thirty-seven. His brother Barin, beside him in the cage, was sentenced to the gallows.208
1.13 - BOOK THE THIRTEENTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
On a green stem; and of a purple hue:
Like his, whom unaware Apollo slew:
--
She saw, and strait the purple beams, that grace
The rosie morning, vanish'd from her face;
--
With purple dawn controuls the Pow'rs of night;
If from a female hand that virtue springs,
--
Some blushing bunches of a purple hue:
And these, and those, are all reserv'd for you.
--
Which lost the purple, mingling with the flood,
Then, like a troubled torrent, it appear'd:
1.13 - The Kings of Rome and Alba, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
where every one else went on foot: they wore purple robes
embroidered or spangled with gold: in the right hand they bore a
--
some respects from what it is to-day. The purple Apennines, indeed,
in their eternal calm on the one hand, and the shining Mediterranean
1.15 - ON THE THOUSAND AND ONE GOALS, #Thus Spoke Zarathustra, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
out with purple honors there. Never did one neighbor
understand the other: ever was his soul amazed at the
1.16 - The Season of Truth, #On the Way to Supermanhood, #Satprem, #Integral Yoga
But this unyielding husk, this old illusory matter everywhere under our feet, continues to exist, at least for others. Its prevailing perception is the criterion of objectivity, what we call the world as it is. Is it conceivable that a handful of more advanced beings, of pioneers of the new world, will live in that true way, that true body (invisible to others), while others will continue living and seeing in the old shadow, stumbling along and suffering and dying with it, until they too become capable of effecting the ultimate conversion and entering the new world which will become the prevailing objectivity yet on this earth and in this matter, but seen with the true look? The old husk would fall off when everyone is capable of seeing with the same look when everyone, thrust into a more advanced season, would see the tree in bloom rather than the old pod?... The tree is in bloom because the season has come. Perhaps we must wait till men realize that the season has come and that all the flowers are there, on the beautiful tree they are indeed there, except for those who dawdle in winter when spring is breaking out all over. The supramental consciousness, the supramental rhythm, is actually an extraordinarily swift rhythm the present earth seems immobile and stagnant compared to that rhythm and maybe that simple acceleration is what makes all the difference, what brings out the orange sweetness of the supramental radiation, its warm and vivid depths, its light earth, the way the acceleration of the galaxies turns the stars red or purple depending on their direction. How could this new vision, as concrete as that of all the Himalayas put together, even more concrete because it discloses all the innermost depths of the Himalayas and their living peace, their solid eternity, not radically change the whole life of humanity, at least for those who can see, and gradually everybody, as radically as man's perception changed the world as perceived by the caterpillar?... For, ultimately, this new vision does not abolish the world; it reveals it as it is (and this supramental as it is is also capable of growing with future ages where is the end?). It is not true that matter suddenly becomes different by some miraculous and transmuting stroke it becomes (for our eyes) what it always was. It ceases to be this winding and steep caterpillar trail to level out into its sun-drenched prairies, which extend farther and farther with our look. True matter, supramental matter, was forever awaiting our true look only like recognizes like. The divine season is waiting for us on earth, if we consent to recognize this Like of which we are now only a semblance. And the whole problem of the transmutation arises again: Is it a transmutation of matter or a transmutation of vision? Doubtless it is both, but the change of vision is what triggers the change of matter; the change in vision is what permits a new manipulation of matter, as our human eyes have enabled a new manipulation of the world. And this change of matter seems possible only if humanity as a whole, or a sufficiently effective proportion of the great earthly body because we are a single body, we always forget consents to brea the the new air, to soak up that sap, to stop believing in its phantoms and fears and old mental impossibilities. And we can believe we can even see that this change of vision is contagious. There is contagion of Truth, an irrepressible spreading of Truth. It is Truth that is breaking our molds and our human consciousnesses and our law and our systems and our countries under its invisible golden pressure the world is under a solar spell, which is shaking our age and throwing it into panic by its influx of vigor, and the Truth of a few will force all the rest to change, as simply and inevitably as the first touch of spring spreads from branch to branch and bursts out from bud to bud.
The secrets are simple, we have said, and we wonder if that difficult transmutation, that complex alchemy, those thick manuals and mysterious initiations, those educated austerities and spiritual exercises, those meditations and retreats and tortured breathing, that whole labor of the spirit are not actually the labor of the mind trying to make it difficult, tremendously difficult, so it can inflate itself further, and then glory in untying the enormous knot it had itself tied. If things are too simple, it does not believe in them, because it has nothing to do because it yearns to do, at all costs. That is its food and livelihood its ego's livelihood. But that mental inflation and pontification may hide from us an utter simplicity, a supreme facility, a supreme nondoing that is the art of doing well. We have had to do and do again, tramp around the trails of the mind to individualize a fragment of that formidable, immense Consciousness-Force, that universal Energy-Harmony, to make it self-conscious, as it were, in one form and in billions of forms. But has not the time come, at the end of the little flame's long journey, to break the mold that helped us to grow and rediscover the totality of Consciousness and Energy and Harmony in one small center of being, a little point of matter, in one clear little note, and to let That do, That change our eyes, That permeate our tissues, That widen our substance to let a supreme Child who runs over the great prairies of the world play in us and for us, if we want, because he is us? This difficult transmutation may not be so difficult after all. It must be as simple as truth, simple as a smile, simple as a child at play. Perhaps everything hinges simply on whether we wish to take the path of difficulty the path of the mind desperately inflating itself to try to blow itself up to the size of the universe, the path of the buts and whys and hows and all the implacable laws that choke us time and again in our mental straitjacket or the path of an unknown little something stealing through the air, sparkling in the air, winking at every street corner and every encounter, in everything, all the trifles of the day, as though carrying us along in an indescribable golden wake in which everything is easy and simple and miraculous we are right in the midst of the miracle! We are in the full supramental season. It is knocking at all our closed windows, at our countries, our hearts, our crumbling systems, our shaky laws, our faltering wisdoms, in our thousands of ills that keep coming out, our thousands of little lies abandoning the skiff in distress it is softly slipping its golden skiff beneath the old specious appearances, it is growing its unexpected buds beneath the old rags, awaiting a tiny little crack to spring out into the open, a tiny little call. The transmutation is not difficult; it is all there, already done, only waiting for us to open our eyes to the unreality of misery and falsehood and death and our impotence to the unreality of the mind and the laws of the mind. It is waiting for our radical saltus into that future of truth, our mass uprising against the old cage, our general strike against the Machine. Oh! let us leave it to the elders, the old elders of the old world, the old believers in misery and suffering and the bomb and the gospel and the millions of gospels that struggle for a share of the world, to run their old squeaky machine for a few more days, to quarrel over borders, argue over reforms of the rot, debate agreements of disagreement, stockpile bombs and false knowledge and libraries and museums, preach good and evil, preach the friend and the enemy, preach country and no-country, build more and more machines and supermachines and rockets to the moon and misery for every pocketbook let us leave to them the last convulsions of the falsehood, the last cries of the rot, we who do not care about countries, borders, machines and all that walled-in future, we who believe in a light and inexpressible something that is pounding at the doors of the world and pounding in our hearts, in a completely new future, completely clear and vibrant and marvelous, without borders, without laws, without gospels, beyond all their possibilities and impossibilities, their good and evil, their small countries and small thoughts we who believe in Truth, in the supreme beauty of Truth, the supreme joy of Truth, the supreme power of Truth. We are the sons of a more marvelous Future which is already there, which will spring out into the open by our cry of trust, sweeping away all the old machinery like an unreal dream, a nightmare of the mind, an old windbag filled with only as much air as we still consent to lend it. The transmutation has to be done in our hearts, the last revolution to be carried out, the supramental revolution of the human species as others had launched the human revolution among the apes its great rebellion against the Machine, its general strike against mental knowledge, mental power and mental fabrications against the mental prison its mass defection from the old groove of pain, and its calling out for what has to be, its simple cry for truth amidst the rubble of the mental age: the truth, the truth, the truth, and nothing but the truth.
1.27 - Structure of Mind Based on that of Body, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
Black wine with purple starlight in its bosom,
Oily and sweet as the soul of a brown maid
1.34 - The Myth and Ritual of Attis, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
There the high-priest, robed in purple, washed the waggon, the
image, and the other sacred objects in the water of the stream. On
1.38 - Woman - Her Magical Formula, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
...I love you! I yearn to you! Pale or purple, veiled or voluptuous, I who am all pleasure and purple, and drunkenness of the innermost sense, desire you. Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within you: come unto me! [58-61]
B. Hadit.
--
Blue am I and gold in the light of my bride: but the red gleam is in my eyes; & my spangles are purple & green.
purple beyond purple: it is the light higher than eyesight. [50-51]
Lest it should all prove too difficult, I have not quoted several passages which are completely beyond my comprehension; even in those here set down, there is quite a little that I should not care to boast that I had altogether clear in my own mind.
1.43 - Dionysus, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
golden corn, the passing splendour of the purple grapes. Year by
year in his own beautiful land he beheld, with natural regret, the
1.75 - The AA and the Planet, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
Stained is the purple of thy mouth, O brilliant one, with the white glory of the lips of Adonai.
The foam of the grape is like the storm upon the sea; the ships tremble and shudder, the shipmaster is afraid.
1914 02 22p, #Prayers And Meditations, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
When I was a child of about thirteen, for nearly a year every night as soon as I had gone to bed it seemed to me that I went out of my body and rose straight up above the house, then above the city, very high above. Then I used to see myself clad in a magnificent golden robe, much longer than myself; and as I rose higher, the robe would stretch, spreading out in a circle around me to form a kind of immense roof over the city. Then I would see men, women, children, old men, the sick, the unfortunate coming out from every side; they would gather under the outspread robe, begging for help, telling of their miseries, their suffering, their hardships. In reply, the robe, supple and alive, would extend towards each one of them individually, and as soon as they had touched it, they were comforted or healed, and went back into their bodies happier and stronger than they had come out of them. Nothing seemed more beautiful to me, nothing could make me happier; and all the activities of the day seemed dull and colourless and without any real life, beside this activity of the night which was the true life for me. Often while I was rising up in this way, I used to see at my left an old man, silent and still, who looked at me with kindly affection and encouraged me by his presence. This old man, dressed in a long dark purple robe, was the personificationas I came to know laterof him who is called the Man of Sorrows.
Now that deep experience, that almost inexpressible reality, is translated in my mind by other ideas which I may describe in this way:
1916 12 20p, #Prayers And Meditations, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
As thou art contemplating me, I shall speak to thee this evening. I see in thy heart a diamond surrounded by a golden light. It is at once pure and warm, something which may manifest impersonal love; but why dost thou keep this treasure enclosed in that dark casket lined with deep purple? The outermost covering is of a deep lustreless blue, a real mantle of darkness. It would seem that thou art afraid of showing thy splendour. Learn to radiate and do not fear the storm: the wind carries us far from the shore but shows us over the world. Wouldst thou be thrifty of thy tenderness? But the source of love is infinite. Dost thou fear to be misunderstood? But where hast thou seen man capable of understanding the Divine? And if the eternal truth finds in thee a means of manifesting itself, what dost thou care for all the rest? Thou art like a pilgrim coming out of the sanctuary; standing on the threshold in front of the crowd, he hesitates before revealing his precious secret, that of his supreme discovery. Listen, I too hesitated for days, for I could foresee both my preaching and its results: the imperfection of expression and the still greater imperfection of understanding. And yet I turned to the earth and men and brought them my message. Turn to the earth and menisnt this the comm and thou always hearest in thy heart?in thy heart, for it is that which carries a blessed message for those who are athirst for compassion. Henceforth nothing can attack the diamond. It is unassailable in its perfect constitution and the soft radiance that flashes from it can change many things in the hearts of men. Thou doubtest thy power and fearest thy ignorance? It is precisely this that wraps up thy strength in that dark mantle of starless night. Thou hesitatest and tremblest as on the threshold of a mystery, for now the mystery of the manifestation seems to thee more terrible and unfathomable than that of the Eternal Cause. But thou must take courage again and obey the injunction from the depths. It is I who am telling thee this, for I know thee and love thee as thou didst know and love me once. I have appeared clearly before thy sight so that thou mayst in no way doubt my word. And also to thy eyes I have shown thy heart so that thou canst thus see what the supreme Truth has willed for it, so that thou mayst discover in it the law of thy being. The thing still seems to thee quite difficult: a day will come when thou wilt wonder how for so long it could have been otherwise.
Skyamuni
1.ac - The Five Adorations, #Crowley - Poems, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
I praise Thee, God, whose purple heart is hidden in the abyss
afar:
1.ac - The Wizard Way, #Crowley - Poems, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
All the purple grapes of Pan.
Ah! my proper lips are stilled.
1f.lovecraft - Ex Oblivione, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
stream under the earth till I reached another world of purple twilight,
iridescent arbours, and undying roses.
1f.lovecraft - Old Bugs, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
purple flesh hanging in loose pouches under his bleary eyes and upon
his cheeks. Altogether, Old Bugs was not pleasing to look upon.
1f.lovecraft - Poetry and the Gods, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
only the mists of dream; the purple, star-strown mists beyond Time,
where only gods and dreamers walk.
1f.lovecraft - The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
skyscraper summits of the lower town to the purple hills of the
countryside beyond. Here he was born, and from the lovely classic porch
--
golds and purples and curious greens. The vast marble dome of the State
House stood out in massive silhouette, its crowning statue haloed
1f.lovecraft - The Challenge from Beyond, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
cilia-fringed head bearing a purple central orifice. It glided on its
rear pairs of legs, with its fore part raised verticallythe legs, or
--
a curious purple comb, and a fan-shaped tail of some grey membrane
ended its grotesque bulk. There was a ring of flexible red spikes
--
color. The ultimate tier was a purple cone, from the apex of which a
blue smoky mist drifted upward to a sphere that poised in mid-aira
1f.lovecraft - The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
far in the background the purple ridge of the Tanarians, potent and
mystical, behind which lay forbidden ways into the waking world and
--
fought with the bloated purple spiders of the neighbouring vales; and
there were scenes also of the coming of the black galleys from the
--
And there was a firmament again, and a wind, and a glare of purple
light in the eyes of the falling dreamer. There were gods and presences
--
carmine, and purple, and still the dreamer fell. Cries rent the aether
as ribbons of light beat back the fiends from outside. And hoary Nodens
--
thrown dazzling through purple panes by the great gold dome of the
State House on the hill, Randolph Carter leaped shoutingly awake within
1f.lovecraft - The Dunwich Horror, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
trunk or feeler with purple annular markings, and with many evidences
of being an undeveloped mouth or throat. The limbs, save for their
--
in the spaces between the purple rings. Of genuine blood there was
none; only the foetid greenish-yellow ichor which trickled along the
--
with kinder blue or purple rings . . . an Gawd in heaventhat haff
face on top! . . .
--
ever able to place. A single lightning-bolt shot from the purple zenith
to the altar-stone, and a great tidal wave of viewless force and
1f.lovecraft - The Haunter of the Dark, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
purple slopes. Against these, some two miles away, rose the spectral
hump of Federal Hill, bristling with huddled roofs and steeples whose
--
shimmerings of cold purple haze. And beyond all else he glimpsed an
infinite gulf of darkness, where solid and semi-solid forms were known
1f.lovecraft - The Lurking Fear, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
chasing one another through endless, ensanguined corridors of purple
fulgurous sky . . . formless phantasms and kaleidoscopic mutations of a
1f.lovecraft - The Man of Stone, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
He looked almost purple when I was through, and I think he was half
delirious. Then I got a funnel from the cupboard and jammed it into his
1f.lovecraft - The Night Ocean, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
became spotted with a carrion purplecuriously brilliant despite its
sombre hueI found that I was several miles from any possible shelter.
--
nightsucceeded in washing away those vestiges of purple cloud which
had been like the ocean-cliffs in an old fairy-tale. Cheated alike of
1f.lovecraft - The Quest of Iranon, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
yellow hair glistening with myrrh and his purple robe torn with briers
of the mountain Sidrak that lies across the antique bridge of stone.
1f.lovecraft - The Shadow over Innsmouth, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
rested there on a purple velvet cushion. Even now I can hardly describe
what I saw, though it was clearly enough a sort of tiara, as the
1f.lovecraft - The Silver Key, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
purple hills beyond hills, and the spectral wooded valley dipping down
in shadow to dank hollows where trickling waters crooned and gurgled
1f.lovecraft - The Slaying of the Monster, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
clearly through the purple dusk, a guide to their goal.
For the sake of truth it is to be recorded that their spirits sank low
1f.lovecraft - Winged Death, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
red, though, with a purple ring around it. Spectral-lookingI dont
wonder the boys lay it to black magic. They seem to have seen cases
--
virulent insect bitedark red, with a purple ring around itwhich
suggested a tsetse-fly or something less innocuous. An examination
1.fs - Fantasie -- To Laura, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
Dyes my cheek with flames of purple hue,
Bids my bosom bound with swifter motion,
1.fs - Punch Song (To be sung in the Northern Countries), #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
purple, and as crystal bright;
And rejoiceth all the senses,
1.fs - The Assignation, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
Broaden below thy web of purple dye,
Which lulled boughs mysterious round us weave.
1.fs - The Count Of Hapsburg, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
In the folds of his purple-dyed robe he concealed
His tears as they swiftly coursed down.
1.fs - The Driver, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
In a darkness of purple-tinged dye,
And though to the ear all might seem then asleep
1.fs - The Four Ages Of The World, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
The goblet is sparkling with purpled-tinged wine,
Bright glistens the eye of each guest,
1.fs - The Fugitive, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
From the bush peer the sunbeams all purple and bright,
While they gleam through the clefts of the dark-waving trees,
--
O'er plain and o'er forest thy purple-dyed beams!
Thou twilight of evening, all noiselessly sing
--
Thy purple-dyed beams o'er the grave of the past!
Ah, twilight of evening, thy strains thou but singest
1.fs - The Walk, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
Hail to thee, mountain beloved, with thy glittering purple-dyed summit!
Hail to thee also, fair sun, looking so lovingly on!
--
And in a purple-tinged hill terminates sweetly the world.
Deep at the foot of the mountain, that under me falls away steeply,
1.hs - Not Worth The Toil!, #Hafiz - Poems, #unset, #Zen
The grape's fair purple garment shall outshine
Thy many-coloured rags and tattered gear.
1.hs - The Bird Of Gardens, #Hafiz - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Stirring the hyacinth's purple tresses curled,
The wind of morning through the alleys stept.
1.hs - True Love, #Hafiz - Poems, #unset, #Zen
The purple rose has turned pale with fear,
And what has befallen the wind of Spring?
1.jk - Calidore - A Fragment, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
And seems from purple clouds to wing its flight.
Green tufted islands casting their soft shades
--
To show their purple stars, and bells of amber.
Sir Gondibert has doff'd his shining steel,
1.jk - Endymion - Book I, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
For the sun's purple couch; to emulate
In ministring the potent rule of fate
1.jk - Endymion - Book II, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
In pink and purple chequer, nor, up-pil'd,
The cloudy rack slow journeying in the west,
--
So cool a purple: taste these juicy pears,
Sent me by sad Vertumnus, when his fears
1.jk - Endymion - Book IV, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
Into the wide stream came of purple hue
'Twas Bacchus and his crew!
--
There curl'd a purple mist around them; soon,
It seem'd as when around the pale new moon
1.jk - Epistle To My Brother George, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
The purple west, and, two bright streaks between,
The golden lyre itself were dimly seen:
--
Crowned with flowers purple, white, and red:
For there the lily, and the musk-rose, sighing,
--
Ocean's blue mantle streaked with purple, and green.
Now 'tis I see a canvassed ship, and now
1.jk - Fragment Of The Castle Builder, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
Ink'd purple with a song concerning dying;
An hour-glass on the turn, amid the trails
1.jk - Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil - A Story From Boccaccio, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
Her silk had play'd in purple phantasies,
She kiss'd it with a lip more chill than stone,
1.jk - Lamia. Part I, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
I dreamt I saw thee, robed in purple flakes,
Break amorous through the clouds, as morning breaks,
1.jk - Lamia. Part II, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
That purple-lined palace of sweet sin,
His spirit passd beyond its golden bourn
1.jk - Ode To A Nightingale, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
1.jk - Otho The Great - Act V, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
Hanging of heaven's clouds, purple and gold,
Slung from the spheres; gauzes of silver mist,
--
The purple slaughter-house, where Bacchus' self
Prick'd his own swollen veins? Where is my Page?
1.jk - Song Of The Indian Maid, From Endymion, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
Into the wide stream came of purple hue--
'Twas Bacchus and his crew!
1.jk - The Cap And Bells; Or, The Jealousies - A Faery Tale .. Unfinished, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
His purple vest, that ever peeping was
Rich from the fluttering crimson of his cloak,
--
And wept upon its purple palatine,
While Hum continued, shamming half a sob,--
1.jk - The Eve Of St. Agnes, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
Made purple riot: then doth he propose
A stratagem, that makes the beldame start:
1.jk - To Hope, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
With the base purple of a court oppress'd,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire:
1.lb - Gazing At The Cascade On Lu Mountain, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
Where crowns a purple haze
Ashimmer in sunlight rays
1.lb - The River Song, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
The purple house and the crimson are full of Spring
softness.
--
Five clouds hang aloft, bright on the purple sky,
The imperial guards come forth from the golden
1.lovecraft - Ex Oblivione, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Once when the gentle rain fell I glided in a barge down a sunless stream under the earth till I reached another world of purple twilight, iridescent arbours, and undying roses.
And once I walked through a golden valley that led to shadowy groves and ruins, and ended in a mighty wall green with antique vines, and pierced by a little gate of bronze.
1.lovecraft - The Wood, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Thus down the years, till on one purple night
A drunken minstrel in his careless verse
1.mdl - Inside the hidden nexus (from Jacobs Journey), #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
English version by Daniel Chanan Matt Original Language Aramaic Jacob left Be'er Sheva and set out for Haran. (Genesis 28:10) Inside the hidden nexus, from within the sealed secret, a zohar flashed, shining as a mirror, embracing two colors blended together. Once these two absorbed each other, all colors appeared: purple, the whole spectrum of colors, flashing, disappearing. Those rays of color do not wait to be seen; they merge into the fusion of zohar. In this zohar dwells the one who dwells. It provides a name for the one who is concealed and totally unknown. It is called the Voice of Jacob. Complete faith in the one who is concealed and totally unknown belongs here. Here dwells YHVH, perfection of all sides, above and below. Here Jacob is found, perfection of the Patriarchs, linked to all sides. This zohar is called by the singled-out name: "Jacob, whom I have chosen (Isaiah 41:8) Two names he is called: Jacob and Israel. At first, Jacob; later, Israel. The secret of this secret: First he attained the End of Thought, the Elucidation of the Written Torah. She is the Oral Torah, called Be'er; as it is said: "Moses began be'er, to explain, the Torah" (Deuteronomy 1:5) She is a be'er, a well and an explanation of the one who is called Sheva, Seven, as it is written: "It took him sheva, seven, years to build it" (1 Kings 6:38) Sheva is the Mighty Voice, while the End of Thought is Be'er Sheva. [bk1sm.gif] -- from Zohar: The Book of Enlightenment: (Classics of Western Spirituality), Translated by Daniel Chanan Matt <
1.mdl - The Creation of Elohim, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
English version by Daniel Chanan Matt Original Language Aramaic In the Beginning When the King conceived ordaining He engraved engravings in the luster on high. A blinding spark flashed within the Concealed of the Concealed from the mystery of the Infinite, a cluster of vapor in formlessness, set in a ring, not white, not black, not red, not green, no color at all. When a band spanned, it yielded radiant colors. Deep within the spark gushed a flow imbuing colors below, concealed within the concealed of the mystery of the Infinite. The flow broke through and did not break through its aura. It was not known at all until, under the impact of breaking through, one high and hidden point shone. Beyond that point, nothing is known. So it is called Beginning, the first command of all. "The enlightened will shine like the zohar of the sky, and those who make the masses righteous will shine like the stars forever and ever" (Daniel 12:3) Zohar, Concealed of the Concealed, struck its aura. The aura touched and did not touch this point. Then this Beginning emanated and made itself a palace for its glory and its praise. There it sowed the seed of holiness to give birth for the benefit of the universe. The secret is: "Her stock is a holy seed" (Isaiah 6:13) Zohar, sowing a seed for its glory like the seed of fine purple silk. The silkworm wraps itself within and makes itself a palace. This palace is its praise and a benefit to all. With the Beginning the Concealed One who is not known created the palace. This palace is called Elohim. The secret is: "With Beginning, ____________ created Elohim" (Genesis 1:1). [bk1sm.gif] -- from Zohar: The Book of Enlightenment: (Classics of Western Spirituality), Translated by Daniel Chanan Matt
1.pbs - Epipsychidion, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Is a far Eden of the purple East;
And we between her wings will sit, while Night,
1.pbs - Epipsychidion (Excerpt), #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Is a far Eden of the purple East;
And we between her wings will sit, while Night,
1.pbs - Fiordispina, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Lull or awaken in their purple prime,
Which the same hand will gatherthe same clime
1.pbs - Fragment Of The Elegy On The Death Of Adonis, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Sleep no more, Venus, wrapped in purple woof--
Wake violet-stoled queen, and weave the crown
--
Her love, her husband, calls--the purple blood
From his struck thigh stains her white navel now,
1.pbs - Fragments Of An Unfinished Drama, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
With which the purple velvet flower was fed
To overflow, and like a poet's heart
1.pbs - From Vergils Fourth Georgic, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Burst in their tumult on the purple brine.
1.pbs - From Vergils Tenth Eclogue, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam
Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou flow
1.pbs - Homers Hymn To Minerva, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
In purple billows, the tide suddenly
Stood still, and great Hyperions son long time
1.pbs - Hymn To Mercury, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
So the God wraps a purple atmosphere
Around his shoulders, and like fire is gone
1.pbs - Julian and Maddalo - A Conversation, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew
Down the steep West into a wondrous hue
--
The inmost purple spirit of light, and made
Their very peaks transparent. 'Ere it fade,'
--
Huddled in gloom;into the purple sea
The orange hues of heaven sunk silently.
1.pbs - Lines Written Among The Euganean Hills, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
So their plumes of purple grain,
Starred with drops of golden rain,
--
With the purple vintage strain,
Heaped upon the creaking wain,
--
In the dust thy purple pride!
Noon descends around me now:
--
When a soft and purple mist
Like a vapourous amethyst,
1.pbs - Lines Written in the Bay of Lerici, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Hovered in the purple night,
Ere she sought her ocean nest
1.pbs - Loves Rose, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Youth says, The purple flowers are mine,
Which die the while they glow.
1.pbs - Ode To Liberty, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Builds from the purple crags and silver towers
Of battlemented cloud, as in derision
1.pbs - Ode To Naples, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Moving the sea-flowers in those purple caves,
Even as the ever stormless atmosphere
1.pbs - Oedipus Tyrannus or Swellfoot The Tyrant, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Of gold and purple, and this kingly paunch
Swells like a sail before a favouring breeze,
1.pbs - Prometheus Unbound, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
'Misery!' And the Ocean's purple waves,
Climbing the land, howled to the lashing winds,
--
Clothed in dark purple, star-inwoven.
A sceptre of pale gold
--
Under plumes of purple dye,
Like rose-ensanguined ivory,
--
Beyond the purple mountains. through a chasm
Of wind-divided mist the darker lake
--
Within dim bowers of green and purple moss,
Our young Ione's soft and milky arms
--
Athwart the purple mountain slope, was written
Follow, O, follow! as they vanished by;
--
The rocks are cloven, and through the purple night
I see cars drawn by rainbow-wingd steeds
--
The flowers whose purple and translucid bowls
Stand ever mantling with areal dew,
1.pbs - Queen Mab - Part II., #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Of purple gold that motionless
Hung o'er the sinking sphere;
--
Shaded with deepest purple, gleam
Like islands on a dark blue sea;
1.pbs - Queen Mab - Part VI., #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Mingling convulsively its purple hues
With sunset's burnished gold.
1.pbs - Rosalind and Helen - a Modern Eclogue, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Daylight on its last purple cloud
Was lingering gray, and soon her strain
1.pbs - Stanzas From Calderons Cisma De Inglaterra, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
The Bee, that fears to drink its purple light,
Lest danger lurk within that Rose's bower?
1.pbs - Stanzas Written in Dejection, Near Naples, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
The purple noon's transparent might,
The breath of the moist earth is light,
--
With green and purple seaweeds strown;
I see the waves upon the shore,
1.pbs - The Cenci - A Tragedy In Five Acts, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Oh, thou bright wine whose purple splendour leaps
And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl
1.pbs - The Cloud, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,
1.pbs - The Cyclops, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Made white with foam the green and purple sea,--
And so we sought you, king. We were sailing
1.pbs - The Daemon Of The World, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
When those far clouds of feathery purple gleam
Like fairy lands girt by some heavenly sea:
--
That gleam amid yon flood of purple light,
Nor the feathery curtains
1.pbs - The Pine Forest Of The Cascine Near Pisa, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
A purple firmament of light
Which in the dark earth lay,
1.pbs - The Question, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,
And starry river buds among the sedge,
1.pbs - The Retrospect - CWM Elan, 1812, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Above the purple peaks decay,
And watch the latest line of light
1.pbs - The Revolt Of Islam - Canto I-XII, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
'Twas likest Heaven, ere yet day's purple stream
Ebbs o'er the western forest, while the gleam
--
The dawn flowed forth, and from its purple fountains
I drank those hopes which make the spirit quail,
--
Like spangling gold, and purple shells engraven
With mystic legends by no mortal hand,
--
purple, and gold, and steel! that ye would go
Proclaiming to the nations whence ye came,
--
Whose golden waves in many a purple line
Fade fast, till borne on sunlight's ebbing streams,
1.pbs - The Sensitive Plant, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue,
Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew
--
Fell into pavilions, white, purple, and blue,
To roof the glow-worm from the evening dew.
1.pbs - The Witch Of Atlas, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
Of icy crag cleaving the purple sky,
And caverns yawning round unfathomably.
1.pbs - To A Skylark, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
The pale purple even
Melts around thy flight;
1.pbs - To Jane - The Recollection, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
A firmament of purple light
Which in the dark earth lay,
1.poe - Al Aaraaf- Part 1, #Poe - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Upreared its purple stem around her knees:-
And gemmy flower, of Trebizond misnam'd-
--
And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante!
Isola d'oro!- Fior di Levante!
1.poe - Al Aaraaf- Part 2, #Poe - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Look'd out above into the purple air,
And rays from God shot down that meteor chain
1.poe - Eulalie, #Poe - Poems, #unset, #Zen
With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl-
1.poe - Sonnet- To Zante, #Poe - Poems, #unset, #Zen
O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante!
"Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"
1.poe - The Raven, #Poe - Poems, #unset, #Zen
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
1.poe - To Isadore, #Poe - Poems, #unset, #Zen
The purple flowers it bore.
Last eve in dreams, I saw thee stand,
1.rb - Bishop Blougram's Apology, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
Their drugget's worth my purple, they beat me.
But you,you're just as little those as I
1.rb - Caliban upon Setebos or, Natural Theology in the Island, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
'Say, the first straggler that boasts purple spots
Shall join the file, one pincer twisted off;
--
Yonder two flies, with purple films and pink,
Bask on the pompion-bell above: kills both.
1.rb - Paracelsus - Part II - Paracelsus Attains, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
"The purple carpets, as these mats are laid,
"Woven of fern and rush and blossoming flag."
1.rb - Paracelsus - Part IV - Paracelsus Aspires, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
In fold on fold of the purple fine,
That neither noontide nor starshine
--
Let the purple awning flap in the wind,
And a statute bright was on every deck!
1.rb - Paracelsus - Part V - Paracelsus Attains, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
We clothe with purple, crown and call to thrones,
Are human, but not his; those are but men
--
Flit where the strand is purple with its tribe
Of nested limpets; savage creatures seek
1.rb - Pauline, A Fragment of a Question, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
Treading the purple calmly to his death,
While round him, like the clouds of eve, all dusk,
1.rb - Popularity, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
* purple dye was obtained.
1.rb - Sordello - Book the Fifth, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
"You, plucking purples in Goito's moss
"Like edges of a trabea (not to cross
1.rb - Sordello - Book the First, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
The purple, and the Third Honorius filled
The holy chair. That autumn eve was stilled:
--
"Prone is the purple pavis; Este makes
"Mirth for the devil when he undertakes
--
With straining forehead, shoulders purpled, hair
Diffused between, who in a goat-skin bear
1.rb - Sordello - Book the Fourth, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
With purple trappings; silently he bent
Over its fire, when voices violent
--
"Intent on chafing each starved purple foot
"Benumbed past aching with the altar slab:
1.rb - The Englishman In Italy, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
And gourds fried in great purple slices,
That colour of popes.
1.rb - The Lost Leader, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
Rags-were they purple, his heart had been proud!
We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him,
1.rb - Times Revenges, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
Nor make these purple fingers hold
The pen; this garret's freezing cold!
1.rwe - May-Day, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
Opal hues and purple dye;
Azaleas flush the island floors,
--
Airy turrets purple-piled,
Which once my infancy beguiled,
1.rwe - Ode To Beauty, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
And the cold and purple morning
Itself with thoughts of thee adorning,
1.rwe - Saadi, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
And thousands sail the purple sea,
And give or take the stroke of war,
1.rwe - The Adirondacs, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
Whereon the purple iris dwells in beauty
Superior to all its gaudy skirts.
1.rwe - The Park, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
Yet spake yon purple mountain,
Yet said yon ancient wood,
1.rwe - The Rhodora - On Being Asked, Whence Is The Flower?, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
The purple petals, fallen in the pool,
Made the black water with their beauty gay;
1.rwe - The Sphinx, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
She melted into purple cloud,
She silvered in the moon;
1.rwe - The World-Soul, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
Yon ridge of purple landscape,
Yon sky between the walls,
1.rwe - To Rhea, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
The bandages of purple light,
Though thou weft the loveliest
1.rwe - Woodnotes, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
The purple berries in the wood
Supplied me necessary food;
1.wby - A Dialogue Of Self And Soul, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
Heart's purple and all these I set
For emblems of the day against the tower
1.wby - Another Song Of A Fool, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
This great purple butterfly,
In the prison of my hands,
1.wby - Another Song of a Fool, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
This great purple butterfly,
In the prison of my hands,
1.wby - The Ballad Of Father Gilligan, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
'He Who is wrapped in purple robes,
With planets in His care
1.wby - The Gift Of Harun Al-Rashid, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
Written in gold upon a purple stain,
And pause at last, I was about to say,
1.wby - The Lake Isle Of Innisfree, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
1.wby - The Lover Asks Forgiveness Because Of His Many Moods, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
From battle-banners, fold upon purple fold,
Queens wrought with glimmering hands;
1.wby - The Players Ask For A Blessing On The Psalteries And On Themselves, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
One gathers up his purple gown;
One leans and mutters by the wall -
1.wby - The Wanderings Of Oisin - Book I, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
And told the purple deeps their pride,
And murmured snatches of delight;
--
And fills with stars night's purple cup,
And wakes the sluggard seeds of corn,
--
Over the glimmering purple sea.
Under the golden evening light,
1.wby - The Wanderings Of Oisin - Book III, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
All emptied of purple hours as a beggar's cloak in the rain,
As a hay-cock out on the flood, or a wolf sucked under a weir.
1.wby - The Winding Stair, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
Heart's purple - and all these I set
For emblems of the day against the tower
1.wby - Wisdom, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
Stitching at a purple hoarded
That He might be nobly breeched
1.whitman - By Broad Potomacs Shore, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Again the forenoon purple of the hills,
Again the deathless grass, so noiseless, soft and green,
--
O forenoon purple of the hills, before I close, of you!
O smiling earthO summer sun, give me of you!
1.whitman - Look Down, Fair Moon, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
purple;
On the dead, on their backs, with their arms toss'd wide,
1.whitman - Song Of The Exposition, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Blazon'd with Shakspeare's purple page,
And dirged by Tennyson's sweet sad rhyme.
1.whitman - Spontaneous Me, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
The same, late in autumnthe hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, and
light and dark green,
1.whitman - The Death And Burial Of McDonald Clarke- A Parody, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Nor in purple or linen they wound him,
As a stranger he died; he went to rest
1.whitman - The World Below The Brine, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white, and goldthe
play of light through the water,
1.whitman - To A Locomotive In Winter, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Thy long, pale, floating vapor-pennants, tinged with delicate purple;
The dense and murky clouds out-belching from thy smoke-stack;
1.whitman - When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomd, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
The violet and purple morn, with just-felt breezes;
The gentle, soft-born, measureless light;
1.ww - An Evening Walk, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Come forth, and here retire in purple shade;
Even the white stems of birch, the cottage white,
--
Feeding 'mid purple heath, green rings," and broom;
While the sharp slope the slackened team confounds,
--
A crest of purple tops the warrior's head.
Bright sparks his black and rolling eye-ball hurls
--
And now that orb has touched the purple steep
Whose softened image penetrates the deep.
--
Of fainter gold, a purple gleam betray.
Each slip of lawn the broken rocks between
1.ww - A Poet's Epitaph, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Art thou a Man of purple cheer?
A rosy Man, right plump to see?
1.ww - Book Eighth- Retrospect--Love Of Nature Leading To Love Of Man, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Gathered the purple cups that round them lay,
Strewing the turfs green slope.
1.ww - Book Sixth [Cambridge and the Alps], #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Of morning beautified, or purple eve;
Or, not less pleased, lay on some turret's head,
1.ww - Elegiac Stanzas In Memory Of My Brother, John Commander Of The E. I. Companys Ship The Earl Of Aber, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss;
1.ww - Sonnet- On seeing Miss Helen Maria Williams weep at a tale of distress, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
She wept.--Life's purple tide began to flow
In languid streams through every thrilling vein;
1.ww - The Excursion- VII- Book Sixth- The Churchyard Among the Mountains, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
For robes with regal purple tinged; convert
The crook into a sceptre; give the pomp
1.ww - The Two April Mornings, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
`Yon cloud with that long purple cleft
Brings fresh into my mind
1.ww - To-- On Her First Ascent To The Summit Of Helvellyn, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
lung from off the purple pinions,
Evening spreads throughout the west!
1.ww - To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Sky streaked with purple, grove and craggy bield,
And the smooth green of many a pendent field,
1.ww - Translation Of Part Of The First Book Of The Aeneid, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
On conches lie, with purple overspread:
Meantime in canisters is heaped the bread,
1.ww - Vernal Ode, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Beneath the shadow of his purple wings
Rested a golden harp;--he touched the strings;
--
Prefer'st a garland culled from purple heath,
Or blooming thicket moist with morning dews;
2.01 - Proem, #Of The Nature Of Things, #Lucretius, #Poetry
Or purple robe, than if 'tis thine to lie
Upon the poor man's bedding. Wherefore, since
--
Of purple robe, canst thou then doubt that this
Is aught, but power of thinking?- when, besides
2.03 - Atomic Forms And Their Combinations, #Of The Nature Of Things, #Lucretius, #Poetry
Of Meliboean purple, touched with dye
Of the Thessalian shell
2.04 - Absence Of Secondary Qualities, #Of The Nature Of Things, #Lucretius, #Poetry
Shred after shred away: the purple there,
Phoenician red, most brilliant of all dyes,
2.05 - Apotheosis, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
The color of his body is purple gold. His palms have the mixed
color of five hundred lotuses, while each finger tip has eightyfour thousand signet-marks, and each mark eighty-four thou
2.08 - Three Tales of Madness and Destruction, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Hamlet opposes this interpretation. In his tale he has reached the point (the Arcanum The World) where Ophelia loses her mind, burbles nonsense and jingles, wanders through the fields girt with garlands-crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples that liberal shepherds give a grosser name, but our cold maids do call dear departed's member-and to continue his story he needs that very card, Arcanum Seventeen, in which Ophelia is seen on the bank of a stream, bent toward the glassy and sticky current that in an instant will drown her, staining her hair a moldy green.
Hidden among the graves of the cemetery, Hamlet thinks about Death, holding up the jawless skull of Yorick the jester. (This, then, is the roundish object the Page of Coins has in his hand!) Where the professional Fool is dead, the destructive folly that was reflected in him and found its release through ritual formulas becomes mingled with the language and actions of princes and subjects, unprotected even against themselves. Hamlet already knows that wherever he turns, he collects miscreants; do they believe him incapable of killing? Why, that is the only thing he succeeds in doing! The trouble is that he always strikes mistaken targets: when you kill, you always kill the wrong man.
2.12 - The Robe, #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
3:The general symbolism which we have adopted leads us, however, to prefer the description of a Robe which few dare wear. This Robe is of a rick silk of deep pure blue, the blue of the night sky: it is embroidered with golden stars, and with roses and lilies. Around the hem, its tail in its mouth, is the great serpent, while upon the front from neck to hem falls the Arrow described in the Vision of the Fifth thyr. This Robe is lined with purple silk on which is embroidered a green serpent coiled from neck to hem. The symbolism of this Robe treats of high mysteries which must be studied in Liber CCXX and Liber CDXVIII; but having thus dealt with special Robes, let us consider the use of the Robe in general.
4:The Robe is that which conceals, and which protects the Magician from the elements; it is the silence and secrecy with which he works, the hiding of himself in the occult life of Magick and Meditation. This is the "going away into the wilderness" which we find in the lives of all men of the highest types of greatness. And it is also the withdrawing of one's self from life as such.
2.1.7.08 - Comments on Specific Lines and Passages of the Poem, #Letters On Poetry And Art, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
I dont know, but purple is a light of the vital. It may have been one of the vital heavens he was thinking of. The ancients saw the vital heavens as the highest and most of the religions also have done the same. I have used the suggestion of Virgil to insert a needed new line:
And griefless countries under purple suns. [p. 120]
17 November 1936
3.00 - Hymn To Pan, #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
3.03 - SULPHUR, #Mysterium Coniunctionis, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
[137] In the sphere of Christian psychology, green has a spermatic, procreative quality, and for this reason it is the colour attributed to the Holy Ghost as the creative principle.103 Accordingly Dorn says: The male and universal seed, the first and most potent, is the solar sulphur, the first part and most potent cause of all generation.104 It is the life-spirit itself. In his De tenebris contra naturam Dorn says: We have said before that the life of the world is the light of nature and the celestial sulphur, whose substrate [subiectum] is the aetheric moisture and the heat of the firmament, namely Sol and Luna.105 Sulphur has here attained cosmic significance and is equated with the light of nature, the supreme source of knowledge for the natural philosophers. But this light does not shine unhindered, says Dorn. It is obscured by the darkness of the elements in the human body. For him, therefore, sulphur is a shining, heavenly being. Though this sulphur is a son who comes from imperfect bodies, he is ready to put on the white and purple garments.106 In Ripley he is a spirit of generative power, who works in the moisture.107 In the treatise De sulphure he is the virtue of all things and the source of illumination and of all knowledge.108 He knows, in fact, everything.109
[138] In view of the significance of sulphur it is worth our while to take a look at its effects as described by the alchemists. Above all, it burns and consumes: The little power of this sulphur is sufficient to consume a strong body.110 The strong body is the sun, as is clear from the saying: Sulphur blackens the sun and consumes it. Then, it causes or signifies the putrefactio, which in our day was never seen, says the Rosarium.111 A third capacity is that of coagulating,112 and a fourth and fifth those of tincturing (tingere, colorare) and maturing (maturare).113 Its putrefying effect is also understood as its ability to corrupt. Sulphur is the cause of imperfection in all metals, the corrupter of perfection, causing the blackness in every operation; too much sulphurousness is the cause of corruption, it is bad and not well mixed, of an evil, stinking odour and of feeble strength. Its substance is dense and tough, and its corruptive action is due on the one hand to its combustibility and on the other to its earthy feculence. It hinders perfection in all its works.114
3.12 - Of the Bloody Sacrifice, #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
conceived and germinate in a peculiar thick velvet darkness, crimson, purple, or
deep blue, approximating black: as if it were said, In the body of Our Lady of the
31 Hymns to the Star Goddess, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Yet, Thou hast said: I love you! I yearn to you! Pale or purple, veiled or voluptuous, I who am all pleasure and purple, and drunkeness of the innermost sense, desire you: Come unto me!
Yea! Mine innermost sense is drunken; it is intoxicated upon the Dew of the Rose. Thy Heart is my Heart; there is no difference, O Beloved.
--
From the broad Mountain summit we may search the slopes for a vision of the Woodl and Delta where grow the Trees of Eternity, or we may journey through the Valley between the Ivory Hillsif we fear not the purple shadows and the black pit-fall.
From Thee we came; to Thee may we return, O Well of Living Stars!
--
XVI. purple Mill
The delicate purple mist streams up from the hills: I watch and wait for the meaning of it all.
Sometimes it seems like the incense smoke of Aspiration ascending towards the Sungiver of Light, Life, Love and Liberty to the Children of Earth.
--
I, too, would ascend as a delicate purple mist that steams up from the Hills. Art Thou not all Pleasure and purple?
XVII. The Infinite Within
3.2.02 - Yoga and Skill in Works, #Essays In Philosophy And Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
overtaken in its worldward descent, the peril of the ignorance by which the unillumined intellect, even when it is keenest or sagest, must ever be bound and limited, of the sorrow and sin from which the unpurified heart, even when it wears the richest purple of aspiration and feeling, must ever suffer soil and wound and poverty, and of the vanity of its works to which the undivinised will of man, even when it is most vehement and powerful or Olympian and victorious, must eternally be subject.
It is the utility of Yoga that it opens to us a gate of escape out of the vicious circle of our ordinary human existence.
3.21 - Of Black Magic, #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
The others, proud in their purple, refuse. They make themselves
a false crown of the Horror of the Abyss; they set the Dispersion of
4.04 - THE REGENERATION OF THE KING, #Mysterium Coniunctionis, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
[393] The colour green, stressed by Khunrath, is associated with Venus. The Introitus apertus says: But in the gentle heat the mixture will liquefy and begin to swell up, and at Gods comm and will be endowed with spirit, which will soar upward carrying the stone with it, and will produce new colours, first of all the green of Venus, which will endure for a long time.121 Towards the end of this procedure, which was known as the regimen of Venus, the colour changes into a livid purple, whereupon the philosophical tree will blossom. Then follows the regimen of Mars, which displays the ephemeral colours of the rainbow and the peacock at their most glorious. In these days the hyacinthine colour122 appears, i.e., blue.
[394] The livid purple that appears towards the end of the regimen of Venus has something deathly about it. This is in accord with the ecclesiastical view of purple, which expresses the mystery of the Lords passion.123 Hence the regimen of Venus leads by implication to passion and death, a point I would emphasize in view of the reference to the dart of passion in the Cantilena. A passage from the Aquarium sapientum shows that colours are a means of expressing moral qualities and situations: While the digestion124 and coction of the dead spiritual body goes forward in man, there may be seen, as in the earthly opus, many variegated colours and signs, i.e., all manner of sufferings, afflictions, and tribulations, the chiefest of which . . . are the ceaseless assaults of the world, the flesh, and the devil.125
[395] These statements concerning the regimen of Venus are confirmed in Penotuss Table of Symbols, where the peacock is correlated with the mysterium coniugii and with Venus, as is also the green lizard. Green is the colour of the Holy Ghost, of life, procreation and resurrection. I mention this because Penotus correlates the coniugium with the dii mortui (dead gods), presumably because they need resurrecting. The peacock is an ancient Christian symbol of resurrection, like the phoenix. According to a late alchemical text,126 the bronze tablets in the labyrinth at Mero showed Osiris, after his regeneration by Isis, mounting a chariot drawn by peacocks, in which he drives along triumphing in his resurrection, like the sun.
--
[415] The whore (meretrix) is a well-known figure in alchemy. She characterizes the arcane substance in its initial, chaotic, maternal state. The Introitus apertus says that the chaos is like a mother of the metals. It is also called our Luna before the royal diadem is extracted from the menstruum of our whore,179 i.e., before the king is reborn from the moon-mother. The Tractatus aureus de lapide says of the arcane substance: That noble whore Venus180 is clothed and enveloped in abounding colour. This colour has a reddish appearance.181 The nobility of this Venus derives from the fact that she is also the queen, the chaste bride of the king.182 In his Practica de lapide Basilius Valentinus says: This tincture is the rose183 of our Masters, of Tyrian hue, called also the red blood of the dragon, described by many, and the purple cloak184 . . . with which the queen is covered.185 A variant says: That precious substance is the Venus of the ancients, the hermaphrodite, who has two sexes.186 Maier writes: In our chemistry there is Venus and Cupid. For Psyche is the female, Cupid the male, who is held to be the dragon.187 The opus ad rubeum (reddening) takes place in the second house of Venus (Libra).188 Accordingly the Turba remarks that Venus precedes the sun.189 Flamel takes Venus as an important component of the arcane substance; in an apostrophe to the Magnesia he says: Thou bearest within thee the many-formed image of Venus, the cupbearer and fire-spitting servant,190 the latter referring to the sulphurous aspect of Mercurius. Mercurius also plays the role of cup-bearer in the Cantilena. In Flamel the lapis is born of the conjunction of Venus pugnax (fighting Venus)191 and Mercuriusevidently a reference to the quarrelling that precedes their union (cf. the fighting lions). In Valentinuss poem on the prima materia lapidis Venus is identified with the fountain, the mother and bride of the king, in which her fixed father is drowned:
A stone there is, and yet no stone,
--
[460] This is the apotheosis of the filius regius, as we find it in numerous treatises. Thus the Tractatus aureus260 says: The king comes forth from the fire and rejoices in the marriage. The son is become a warrior of the fire and surpasses the tinctures, for he himself is the treasure and himself is attired in the philosophic matter. Come hither, ye sons of wisdom, let us be glad and rejoice, for the dominion of death is over, and the son reigns; he is clothed with the red garment, and the purple is put on. The reborn king is the wonder of the world, an exceeding pure spirit;261 he is, the Aquarium sapientum assures us, the most elect, the most subtile, the purest, and noblest of all the heavenly spirits, to whom all the Test yield obedience as to their King, who bestows on men all health and prosperity, heals all sickness, gives to the God-fearing temporal honour and long life, but to the wicked who abused him, eternal punishment. . . . In sum, they have designated him the chief of all things under heaven, and the marvellous end and epilogue of all philosophic works. Hence some devout philosophers of old have affirmed that he was divinely revealed to Adam, the first man, and thereafter was awaited with peculiar longing by all the holy Patriarchs.262 The Almighty, remarks the Introitus, has made him known by a most notable sign, whose birth263 is declared throughout the East on the horizon of his hemisphere. The wise Magi saw it at the beginning of the era, and were astonished, and straightway they knew that the most serene King was born in the world. Do you, when you see his star, follow it to the cradle, and there you shall behold the fair infant. Cast aside your defilements, honour the royal child, open your treasure, offer a gift of gold; and after death he will give you flesh and blood, the supreme Medicine in the three monarchies of the earth.264 The clothing of the elixir with the kingly garment is also found in the Turba.265 The Consilium coniugii describes the king as descending from heaven.266 Mylius says of King Sol that Phoebus with shining hair of gold sits in the midst, like a king and emperor of the world, grasping the sceptre and the helm. In him are all the powers of heaven.267 In another place he cites the following quotation: And at last the king will go forth crowned with his diadem, radiant as the sun, bright as the carbuncle. 268 Khunrath speaks of the wondrous natural triune Son of the Great World, whom the sages name their Son and crowned King, artificially hatched from the egg of the world.269 Elsewhere he says of the filius Mundi Maioris:
The Son of the great World [Macrocosm] who is Theocosmos, i.e., a divine power and world (but whom even today, unfortunately, many who teach nature in a pagan spirit and many builders of medical science reject in the high university schools), is the exemplar of the stone which is Theanthropos, i.e., God and man (whom, as Scripture tells us, the builders of the Church have also rejected); and from the same, in and from the Great World Book of Nature, [there issues] a continuous and everlasting doctrine for the wise and their children: indeed, it is a splendid living likeness of our Saviour Jesus Christ, in and from the Great World which by nature is very similar to him (as to miraculous conception, birth, inexpressible powers, virtues, and effects); so God our Lord, besides his Sons Biblical histories, has also created a specific image and natural representation for us in the Book of Nature.270
4.2.01 - The Mother of Dreams, #Collected Poems, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Who are those that pace by the purple waves that race to the cliff-bound floor of thy jasper shore under skies in which mystery muses,
Lapped in moonlight not of our night or plunged in sunshine that is not diurnal?
4.41 - Chapter One, #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
mine incense before me, invoking me with a pure heart, and the Serpent flame therein, thou shalt come a little to lie in my bosom. For one kiss wilt thou then be willing to give all; but whoso gives one particle of dust shall lose all in that hour. Ye shall gather goods and store of women and spices; ye shall wear rich jewels; ye shall exceed the nations of the Earth in splendour & pride; but always in the love of me, and so shall ye come to my joy. I charge you earnestly to come before me in a single robe, and covered with a rich headdress. I love you! I yearn to you! Pale or purple, veiled or voluptuous, I who am all pleasure and purple, and drunkenness of the innermost sense, desire you. Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendour within you: come unto me!
I,62: At all my meetings with you shall the priestess say-and her eyes shall burn with desire as she stands bare and rejoicing in my secret temple-To me! To me! calling forth the flame of the hearts of all in her lovechant.
4.42 - Chapter Two, #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
II,24: Behold! these be grave mysteries; for there are also of my friends who be hermits. Now think not to find them in the forest or on the mountain; but in beds of purple, caressed by magnificent beasts of women with large limbs, and fire and light in their eyes, and masses of flaming hair about them; there shall ye find them. Ye shall see them at rule, at victorious armies, at all the joy; and there shall be in them a joy a million times greater than this. Beware lest any force another, King against King! Love one another with burning hearts; on the low men trample in the fierce lust of your pride, in the day of your wrath.
II,25: Ye are against the people, O my chosen!
--
II,50: Blue am I and gold in the light of my bride: but the red gleam is in my eyes; & my spangles are purple
& green.
II,51: purple beyond purple: it is the light higher than eyesight.
II,52: There is a veil: that veil is black. It is the veil of the modest woman; it is the veil of sorrow, & the pall of death: this is none of me. Tear down that lying spectre of the centuries: veil not your vices in virtuous words: these vices are my service; ye do well, & I will reward you here and hereafter.
5.06 - Origins And Savage Period Of Mankind, #Of The Nature Of Things, #Lucretius, #Poetry
Which now thou seest to ripen purple-red
In winter time, the old telluric soil
5.07 - Beginnings Of Civilization, #Of The Nature Of Things, #Lucretius, #Poetry
'Twas pelts, and of to-day 'tis purple and gold
That cark men's lives with cares and weary with war.
--
The purple vestment, broidered with gold
And with imposing figures, if we still
5.1.01.4 - The Book of Partings, #5.1.01 - Ilion, #unset, #Zen
Wearing my sorrow even as I wear the imperial purple,
Praise yet the gods for my days that have seen thee at last in my ending.
5.1.01.8 - The Book of the Gods, #5.1.01 - Ilion, #unset, #Zen
Round him purple and dominant rippled and murmured and whispered,
Whispered of argosies sunk and the pearls and the Nereids playing,
5.1.02 - Ahana, #Collected Poems, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Life with her wine-cup of longing under the purple of her tenture,
Death as her gate of escape and rebirth and renewal of venture.
--
Trailing behind thee the purple of thy soul and the dawn-moment's glamour,
Forcing the heart of the Midnight where slumber and secrecy linger,
6.03 - Extraordinary And Paradoxical Telluric Phenomena, #Of The Nature Of Things, #Lucretius, #Poetry
With the light oil-of-olive. And purple dye
Of shell-fish so uniteth with the wool's
6.0 - Conscious, Unconscious, and Individuation, #The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
the square inch dwells the splendour. In the purple hall of
377
7.2.06 - Rose of God, #Collected Poems, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Rose of God, smitten purple with the incarnate divine Desire,
Rose of Life, crowded with petals, colour's lyre!
Aeneid, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
And there are draperies of noble purple
woven with art; and plate of massive silver
--
now gather; they recline on purple covers.
The servants pour out water for their hands
--
conceal your head beneath a purple mantle,
that while you are at worship there, no hostile
--
in gold and purple, prances, proudly champing
his foaming bit. At last the queen appears
--
holds fast her purple cloak. Her Trojan comrades
and glad Ascanius advance behind her.
--
that draped his shoulders blazed with Tyrian purple
a gift that wealthy Dido wove for him;
--
and armor, garments dyed in purple, talents
of gold and silver. From the central mound
--
the captains gleam in purple, gold; the oarsmen
are crowned with poplar leaves, their naked shoulders
--
of Meliboean purple, sinuous
and rich; and woven in it Ganymede,
--
entwined with purple ribbons whendislodged
with difficulty from the ruthless rock,
--
they throw his purple robes, familiar clothes.
Then some, as their sad office, raised the massive
--
these purple flowers, with these gifts, at least,
be generous to my descendant's spirit,
--
his eyes, attentive, stir. Brocaded purple
and Priam's scepter do not move the king
--
in purple and embroidered saddle cloths
as gifts for all the Teucrians in order.
--
at how proud royal purple veils Camilla's
smooth shoulders, how a clasp of gold entwines
--
with purple plumes and glittering with gold.
They hurry off to take their posts by turns;
--
So Rhoetus vomits out his purple life
and, crying, throws up wine with mingled blood.
--
against his shoulder: even as a purple
flower, severed by the plow, falls slack in death;
--
and gleaming purple; you like laziness,
and you delight in dances; and your tunics
--
and purple robe, the gift of his betrothed
even as, often, if a starving lion,
--
twin tunics, stiff with gold and purple, which
Sidonian Dido, glad in that task, had
--
rich foreign purple; from his Lycian bow
he cast Gortynian arrows; on his shoulders
--
stains Indian ivory with blood-red purple,
or when white lilies, mixed with many roses,
--
with gold and purple: Mnestheus, who was born
out of Assaracus, and bold Asilas
--
and purple flower, a plant not unfamiliar
to wild goats when they are wounded by winged arrows.
--
to die and tears her purple robe and fastens
a noose of ugly death from a high beam.
Blazing P2 - Map the Stages of Conventional Consciousness, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
(BO / purple)
5. ParadoxicalConsolidative
Blazing P3 - Explore the Stages of Postconventional Consciousness, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
(BO / purple)
5. ParadoxicalConsolidative
BOOK I. - Augustine censures the pagans, who attributed the calamities of the world, and especially the sack of Rome by the Goths, to the Christian religion and its prohibition of the worship of the gods, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
But, it is added, many Christians were slaughtered, and were put to death in a hideous variety of cruel ways. Well, if this be hard to bear, it is assuredly the common lot of all who are born into this life. Of this at least I am certain, that no one has ever died who was not destined to die some time. Now the end of life puts the longest life on a par with the shortest. For of two things which have alike ceased to be, the one is not better, the other worse the one greater, the other less.[55] And of what consequence is it what kind of death puts an end to life, since he who has died once is not forced to go through the same ordeal a second time? And as in the daily casualties of life every man is, as it were, threatened with numberless deaths, so long as it remains uncertain which of them is his fate, I would ask whether it is not better to suffer one and die, than to live in fear of all? I am not unaware of the poor-spirited fear which prompts us to choose rather to live long in fear of so many deaths, than to die once and so escape them all; but the weak and cowardly shrinking of the flesh is one thing, and the well-considered and reasonable persuasion of the soul quite another. That death is not to be judged an evil which is the end of a good life; for death becomes evil only by the retri bution which follows it. They, then, who are destined to die, need not be careful to inquire what death they are to die, but into what place death will usher them. And since Christians are well aware that the death of the godly pauper whose sores the dogs licked was far better than of the wicked rich man who lay in purple and fine linen, what harm could these terrific deaths do to the dead who had lived well?
[Pg 19]
--
Further still, we are reminded that in such a carnage as then occurred, the bodies could not even be buried. But godly confidence is not appalled by so ill-omened a circumstance; for the faithful bear in mind that assurance has been given that not a hair of their head shall perish, and that, therefore, though they even be devoured by beasts, their blessed resurrection will not hereby be hindered. The Truth would nowise have said, "Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul,"[57] if anything whatever that an enemy could do to the body of the slain could be detrimental to the future life. Or will some one perhaps take so absurd a position as to contend that those who kill the body are not to be feared before death, and lest they kill the body, but after death, lest they deprive it of burial? If this be so, then that is false which Christ says, "Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do;"[58] for it seems they can do great injury to the dead body. Far be it from us to suppose that the Truth can be thus false. They who kill the body are said "to do something," because the death-blow is felt, the body still having sensation; but after that, they have no more that they can do, for in the slain body there is no sensation. And so there are indeed many bodies of Christians lying unburied; but no one has separated them from heaven, nor from that earth which is all filled with the presence of Him who knows whence He will raise again what He created. It is said, indeed, in the Psalm: "The dead bodies of Thy servants have they given to be meat unto the fowls of the heaven, the flesh of Thy saints unto the beasts of the earth. Their blood have they shed like water round about Jerusalem; and there was none to bury them."[59] But this was said rather to exhibit the cruelty of those who did these things, than the misery of those who suffered them. To the eyes of men this appears a harsh and doleful lot, yet "precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints."[Pg 20][60] Wherefore all these last offices and ceremonies that concern the dead, the careful funeral arrangements, and the equipment of the tomb, and the pomp of obsequies, are rather the solace of the living than the comfort of the dead. If a costly burial does any good to a wicked man, a squalid burial, or none at all, may harm the godly. His crowd of domestics furnished the purple-clad Dives with a funeral gorgeous in the eye of man; but in the sight of God that was a more sumptuous funeral which the ulcerous pauper received at the hands of the angels, who did not carry him out to a marble tomb, but bore him aloft to Abraham's bosom.
The men against whom I have undertaken to defend the city of God laugh at all this. But even their own philosophers[61] have despised a careful burial; and often whole armies have fought and fallen for their earthly country without caring to inquire whether they would be left exposed on the field of battle, or become the food of wild beasts. Of this noble disregard of sepulture poetry has well said: "He who has no tomb has the sky for his vault."[62] How much less ought they to insult over the unburied bodies of Christians, to whom it has been promised that the flesh itself shall be restored, and the body formed anew, all the members of it being gathered not only from the earth, but from the most secret recesses of any other of the elements in which the dead bodies of men have lain hid!
BOOK II. -- PART III. ADDENDA. SCIENCE AND THE SECRET DOCTRINE CONTRASTED, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
profane mystics may give to the famous Chapter xvii., with its riddle of the woman in purple and
scarlet; whether Protestants nod at the Roman Catholics, when reading "MYSTERY, BABYLON THE
BOOK I. -- PART I. COSMIC EVOLUTION, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
significance? "Thou shalt make an hanging . . . of blue, purple, and scarlet" and "five pillars of shittim
wood for the hanging . . . four brazen rings in the four corners thereof . . . boards of fine wood for the
Book of Exodus, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
1 And the LORD spake unto Moses, saying, 2 Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an offering: of every man that giveth it willingly with his heart ye shall take my offering. 3 And this is the offering which ye shall take of them; gold, and silver, and brass, 4 And blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen, and goats' hair, 5 And rams' skins dyed red, and badgers' skins, and shittim wood, 6 Oil for the light, spices for anointing oil, and for sweet incense, 7 Onyx stones, and stones to be set in the ephod, and in the breastplate.
8 And let them make me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them. 9 According to all that I shew thee, after the pattern of the tabernacle, and the pattern of all the instruments thereof, even so shall ye make it.
--
1 Moreover thou shalt make the tabernacle with ten curtains of fine twined linen, and blue, and purple, and scarlet: with cherubims of cunning work shalt thou make them. 2 The length of one curtain shall be eight and twenty cubits, and the breadth of one curtain four cubits: and every one of the curtains shall have one measure. 3 The five curtains shall be coupled together one to another; and other five curtains shall be coupled one to another. 4 And thou shalt make loops of blue upon the edge of the one curtain from the selvedge in the coupling; and likewise shalt thou make in the uttermost edge of another curtain, in the coupling of the second. 5 Fifty loops shalt thou make in the one curtain, and fifty loops shalt thou make in the edge of the curtain that is in the coupling of the second; that the loops may take hold one of another. 6 And thou shalt make fifty taches of gold, and couple the curtains together with the taches: and it shall be one tabernacle.
The Tent Cloth over the Tabernacle
--
31 And thou shalt make a vail of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen of cunning work: with cherubims shall it be made: 32 And thou shalt hang it upon four pillars of shittim wood overlaid with gold: their hooks shall be of gold, upon the four sockets of silver. 33 And thou shalt hang up the vail under the taches, that thou mayest bring in thither within the vail the ark of the testimony: and the vail shall divide unto you between the holy place and the most holy. 34 And thou shalt put the mercy seat upon the ark of the testimony in the most holy place.
35 And thou shalt set the table without the vail, and the candlestick over against the table on the side of the tabernacle toward the south: and thou shalt put the table on the north side. 36 And thou shalt make an hanging for the door of the tent, of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen, wrought with needlework. 37 And thou shalt make for the hanging five pillars of shittim wood, and overlay them with gold, and their hooks shall be of gold: and thou shalt cast five sockets of brass for them.
CHAPTER 27
--
9 And thou shalt make the court of the tabernacle: for the south side southward there shall be hangings for the court of fine twined linen of an hundred cubits long for one side: 10 And the twenty pillars thereof and their twenty sockets shall be of brass; the hooks of the pillars and their fillets shall be of silver. 11 And likewise for the north side in length there shall be hangings of an hundred cubits long, and his twenty pillars and their twenty sockets of brass; the hooks of the pillars and their fillets of silver. 12 And for the breadth of the court on the west side shall be hangings of fifty cubits: their pillars ten, and their sockets ten. 13 And the breadth of the court on the east side eastward shall be fifty cubits. 14 The hangings of one side of the gate shall be fifteen cubits: their pillars three, and their sockets three. 15 And on the other side shall be hangings fifteen cubits: their pillars three, and their sockets three. 16 And for the gate of the court shall be an hanging of twenty cubits, of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen, wrought with needlework: and their pillars shall be four, and their sockets four.
17 All the pillars round about the court shall be filleted with silver; their hooks shall be of silver, and their sockets of brass. 18 The length of the court shall be an hundred cubits, and the breadth fifty every where, and the height five cubits of fine twined linen, and their sockets of brass. 19 All the vessels of the tabernacle in all the service thereof, and all the pins thereof, and all the pins of the court, shall be of brass.
--
1 And take thou unto thee Aaron thy brother, and his sons with him, from among the children of Israel, that he may minister unto me in the priest's office, even Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar, Aaron's sons. 2 And thou shalt make holy garments for Aaron thy brother for glory and for beauty. 3 And thou shalt speak unto all that are wise hearted, whom I have filled with the spirit of wisdom, that they may make Aaron's garments to consecrate him, that he may minister unto me in the priest's office. 4 And these are the garments which they shall make; a breastplate, and an ephod, and a robe, and a broidered coat, a mitre, and a girdle: and they shall make holy garments for Aaron thy brother, and his sons, that he may minister unto me in the priest's office. 5 And they shall take gold, and blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen.
The Ephod and Breastplate
6 And they shall make the ephod of gold, of blue, and of purple, of scarlet, and fine twined linen, with cunning work. 7 It shall have the two shoulderpieces thereof joined at the two edges thereof; and so it shall be joined together. 8 And the curious girdle of the ephod, which is upon it, shall be of the same, according to the work thereof; even of gold, of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen.
9 And thou shalt take two onyx stones, and grave on them the names of the children of Israel: 10 Six of their names on one stone, and the other six names of the rest on the other stone, according to their birth. 11 With the work of an engraver in stone, like the engravings of a signet, shalt thou engrave the two stones with the names of the children of Israel: thou shalt make them to be set in ouches of gold. 12 And thou shalt put the two stones upon the shoulders of the ephod for stones of memorial unto the children of Israel: and Aaron shall bear their names before the LORD upon his two shoulders for a memorial. 13 And thou shalt make ouches of gold; 14 And two chains of pure gold at the ends; of wrea then work shalt thou make them, and fasten the wrea then chains to the ouches.
15 And thou shalt make the breastplate of judgment with cunning work; after the work of the ephod thou shalt make it; of gold, of blue, and of purple, and of scarlet, and of fine twined linen, shalt thou make it. 16 Foursquare it shall be being doubled; a span shall be the length thereof, and a span shall be the breadth thereof. 17 And thou shalt set in it settings of stones, even four rows of stones: the first row shall be a sardius, a topaz, and a carbuncle: this shall be the first row. 18 And the second row shall be an emerald, a sapphire, and a diamond. 19 And the third row a ligure, an agate, and an amethyst. 20 And the fourth row a beryl, and an onyx, and a jasper: they shall be set in gold in their inclosings. 21 And the stones shall be with the names of the children of Israel, twelve, according to their names, like the engravings of a signet; every one with his name shall they be according to the twelve tribes.
22 And thou shalt make upon the breastplate chains at the ends of wrea then work of pure gold. 23 And thou shalt make upon the breastplate two rings of gold, and shalt put the two rings on the two ends of the breastplate. 24 And thou shalt put the two wrea then chains of gold in the two rings which are on the ends of the breastplate. 25 And the other two ends of the two wrea then chains thou shalt fasten in the two ouches, and put them on the shoulderpieces of the ephod before it. 26 And thou shalt make two rings of gold, and thou shalt put them upon the two ends of the breastplate in the border thereof, which is in the side of the ephod inward. 27 And two other rings of gold thou shalt make, and shalt put them on the two sides of the ephod underneath, toward the forepart thereof, over against the other coupling thereof, above the curious girdle of the ephod. 28 And they shall bind the breastplate by the rings thereof unto the rings of the ephod with a lace of blue, that it may be above the curious girdle of the ephod, and that the breastplate be not loosed from the ephod.
--
31 And thou shalt make the robe of the ephod all of blue. 32 And there shall be an hole in the top of it, in the midst thereof: it shall have a binding of woven work round about the hole of it, as it were the hole of an habergeon, that it be not rent. 33 And beneath upon the hem of it thou shalt make pomegranates of blue, and of purple, and of scarlet, round about the hem thereof; and bells of gold between them round about: 34 A golden bell and a pomegranate, a golden bell and a pomegranate, upon the hem of the robe round about. 35 And it shall be upon Aaron to minister: and his sound shall be heard when he goeth in unto the holy place before the LORD, and when he cometh out, that he die not.
36 And thou shalt make a plate of pure gold, and grave upon it, like the engravings of a signet, HOLINESS TO THE LORD. 37 And thou shalt put it on a blue lace, that it may be upon the mitre; upon the forefront of the mitre it shall be. 38 And it shall be upon Aaron's forehead, that Aaron may bear the iniquity of the holy things, which the children of Israel shall hallow in all their holy gifts; and it shall be always upon his forehead, that they may be accepted before the LORD.
--
4 And Moses spake unto all the congregation of the children of Israel, saying, This is the thing which the LORD commanded, saying, 5 Take ye from among you an offering unto the LORD: whosoever is of a willing heart, let him bring it, an offering of the LORD; gold, and silver, and brass, 6 And blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen, and goats' hair, 7 And rams' skins dyed red, and badgers' skins, and shittim wood, 8 And oil for the light, and spices for anointing oil, and for the sweet incense, 9 And onyx stones, and stones to be set for the ephod, and for the breastplate.
Call for Artisans
--
20 And all the congregation of the children of Israel departed from the presence of Moses. 21 And they came, every one whose heart stirred him up, and every one whom his spirit made willing, and they brought the LORD's offering to the work of the tabernacle of the congregation, and for all his service, and for the holy garments. 22 And they came, both men and women, as many as were willing hearted, and brought bracelets, and earrings, and rings, and tablets, all jewels of gold: and every man that offered offered an offering of gold unto the LORD. 23 And every man, with whom was found blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen, and goats' hair, and red skins of rams, and badgers' skins, brought them. 24 Every one that did offer an offering of silver and brass brought the LORD's offering: and every man, with whom was found shittim wood for any work of the service, brought it. 25 And all the women that were wise hearted did spin with their hands, and brought that which they had spun, both of blue, and of purple, and of scarlet, and of fine linen. 26 And all the women whose heart stirred them up in wisdom spun goats' hair. 27 And the rulers brought onyx stones, and stones to be set, for the ephod, and for the breastplate; 28 And spice, and oil for the light, and for the anointing oil, and for the sweet incense. 29 The children of Israel brought a willing offering unto the LORD, every man and woman, whose heart made them willing to bring for all manner of work, which the LORD had commanded to be made by the hand of Moses.
The Artisans
30 And Moses said unto the children of Israel, See, the LORD hath called by name Bezaleel the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah; 31 And he hath filled him with the spirit of God, in wisdom, in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship; 32 And to devise curious works, to work in gold, and in silver, and in brass, 33 And in the cutting of stones, to set them, and in carving of wood, to make any manner of cunning work. 34 And he hath put in his heart that he may teach, both he, and Aholiab, the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan. 35 Them hath he filled with wisdom of heart, to work all manner of work, of the engraver, and of the cunning workman, and of the embroiderer, in blue, and in purple, in scarlet, and in fine linen, and of the weaver, even of them that do any work, and of those that devise cunning work.
CHAPTER 36
--
8 And every wise hearted man among them that wrought the work of the tabernacle made ten curtains of fine twined linen, and blue, and purple, and scarlet: with cherubims of cunning work made he them. 9 The length of one curtain was twenty and eight cubits, and the breadth of one curtain four cubits: the curtains were all of one size. 10 And he coupled the five curtains one unto another: and the other five curtains he coupled one unto another. 11 And he made loops of blue on the edge of one curtain from the selvedge in the coupling: likewise he made in the uttermost side of another curtain, in the coupling of the second. 12 Fifty loops made he in one curtain, and fifty loops made he in the edge of the curtain which was in the coupling of the second: the loops held one curtain to another. 13 And he made fifty taches of gold, and coupled the curtains one unto another with the taches: so it became one tabernacle.
14 And he made curtains of goats' hair for the tent over the tabernacle: eleven curtains he made them. 15 The length of one curtain was thirty cubits, and four cubits was the breadth of one curtain: the eleven curtains were of one size. 16 And he coupled five curtains by themselves, and six curtains by themselves. 17 And he made fifty loops upon the uttermost edge of the curtain in the coupling, and fifty loops made he upon the edge of the curtain which coupleth the second. 18 And he made fifty taches of brass to couple the tent together, that it might be one. 19 And he made a covering for the tent of rams' skins dyed red, and a covering of badgers' skins above that.
--
35 And he made a vail of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen: with cherubims made he it of cunning work. 36 And he made thereunto four pillars of shittim wood, and overlaid them with gold: their hooks were of gold; and he cast for them four sockets of silver. 37 And he made an hanging for the tabernacle door of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen, of needlework; 38 And the five pillars of it with their hooks: and he overlaid their chapiters and their fillets with gold: but their five sockets were of brass.
CHAPTER 37
--
18 And the hanging for the gate of the court was needlework, of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen: and twenty cubits was the length, and the height in the breadth was five cubits, answerable to the hangings of the court. 19 And their pillars were four, and their sockets of brass four; their hooks of silver, and the overlaying of their chapiters and their fillets of silver. 20 And all the pins of the tabernacle, and of the court round about, were of brass.
21 This is the sum of the tabernacle, even of the tabernacle of testimony, as it was counted, according to the commandment of Moses, for the service of the Levites, by the hand of Ithamar, son to Aaron the priest. 22 And Bezaleel the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, made all that the LORD commanded Moses. 23 And with him was Aholiab, son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan, an engraver, and a cunning workman, and an embroiderer in blue, and in purple, and in scarlet, and fine linen. 24 All the gold that was occupied for the work in all the work of the holy place, even the gold of the offering, was twenty and nine talents, and seven hundred and thirty shekels, after the shekel of the sanctuary. 25 And the silver of them that were numbered of the congregation was an hundred talents, and a thousand seven hundred and threescore and fifteen shekels, after the shekel of the sanctuary: 26 A bekah for every man, that is, half a shekel, after the shekel of the sanctuary, for every one that went to be numbered, from twenty years old and upward, for six hundred thousand and three thousand and five hundred and fifty men. 27 And of the hundred talents of silver were cast the sockets of the sanctuary, and the sockets of the vail; an hundred sockets of the hundred talents, a talent for a socket. 28 And of the thousand seven hundred seventy and five shekels he made hooks for the pillars, and overlaid their chapiters, and filleted them. 29 And the brass of the offering was seventy talents, and two thousand and four hundred shekels. 30 And therewith he made the sockets to the door of the tabernacle of the congregation, and the brasen altar, and the brasen grate for it, and all the vessels of the altar, 31 And the sockets of the court round about, and the sockets of the court gate, and all the pins of the tabernacle, and all the pins of the court round about.
CHAPTER 39
--
1 And of the blue, and purple, and scarlet, they made cloths of service, to do service in the holy place, and made the holy garments for Aaron; as the LORD commanded Moses. 2 And he made the ephod of gold, blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen. 3 And they did beat the gold into thin plates, and cut it into wires, to work it in the blue, and in the purple, and in the scarlet, and in the fine linen, with cunning work. 4 They made shoulderpieces for it, to couple it together: by the two edges was it coupled together. 5 And the curious girdle of his ephod, that was upon it, was of the same, according to the work thereof; of gold, blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen; as the LORD commanded Moses. 6 And they wrought onyx stones inclosed in ouches of gold, graven, as signets are graven, with the names of the children of Israel. 7 And he put them on the shoulders of the ephod, that they should be stones for a memorial to the children of Israel; as the LORD commanded Moses.
8 And he made the breastplate of cunning work, like the work of the ephod; of gold, blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen. 9 It was foursquare; they made the breastplate double: a span was the length thereof, and a span the breadth thereof, being doubled. 10 And they set in it four rows of stones: the first row was a sardius, a topaz, and a carbuncle: this was the first row. 11 And the second row, an emerald, a sapphire, and a diamond. 12 And the third row, a ligure, an agate, and an amethyst. 13 And the fourth row, a beryl, an onyx, and a jasper: they were inclosed in ouches of gold in their inclosings. 14 And the stones were according to the names of the children of Israel, twelve, according to their names, like the engravings of a signet, every one with his name, according to the twelve tribes.
15 And they made upon the breastplate chains at the ends, of wrea then work of pure gold. 16 And they made two ouches of gold, and two gold rings; and put the two rings in the two ends of the breastplate. 17 And they put the two wrea then chains of gold in the two rings on the ends of the breastplate. 18 And the two ends of the two wrea then chains they fastened in the two ouches, and put them on the shoulderpieces of the ephod, before it. 19 And they made two rings of gold, and put them on the two ends of the breastplate, upon the border of it, which was on the side of the ephod inward. 20 And they made two other golden rings, and put them on the two sides of the ephod underneath, toward the forepart of it, over against the other coupling thereof, above the curious girdle of the ephod. 21 And they did bind the breastplate by his rings unto the rings of the ephod with a lace of blue, that it might be above the curious girdle of the ephod, and that the breastplate might not be loosed from the ephod; as the LORD commanded Moses.
22 And he made the robe of the ephod of woven work, all of blue. 23 And there was an hole in the midst of the robe, as the hole of an habergeon, with a band round about the hole, that it should not rend. 24 And they made upon the hems of the robe pomegranates of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and twined linen. 25 And they made bells of pure gold, and put the bells between the pomegranates upon the hem of the robe, round about between the pomegranates; 26 A bell and a pomegranate, a bell and a pomegranate, round about the hem of the robe to minister in; as the LORD commanded Moses.
27 And they made coats of fine linen of woven work for Aaron, and for his sons, 28 And a mitre of fine linen, and goodly bonnets of fine linen, and linen breeches of fine twined linen, 29 And a girdle of fine twined linen, and blue, and purple, and scarlet, of needlework; as the LORD commanded Moses. 30 And they made the plate of the holy crown of pure gold, and wrote upon it a writing, like to the engravings of a signet, HOLINESS TO THE LORD. 31 And they tied unto it a lace of blue, to fasten it on high upon the mitre; as the LORD commanded Moses.
Presentation of the Work to Moses
Book of Imaginary Beings (text), #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
every possible shade of purple, like the hues of a changeable silk . . . Upon collecting a basinful, and allowing it to
settle thoroughly, we perceived that the whole mass of
--
there were very swift wild asses with white coats, purple
heads, blue eyes, and in the middle of their foreheads a
BOOK X. - Porphyrys doctrine of redemption, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
Will some one say that these miracles are false, that they never happened, and that the records of them are lies? Whoever says so, and asserts that in such matters no records whatever can be credited, may also say that there are no gods who care for human affairs. For they have induced men to worship them only by means of miraculous works, which the hea then histories testify, and by which the gods have made a display of their own power rather than done any real service. This is the reason why we have not undertaken in this work,[Pg 409] of which we are now writing the tenth book, to refute those who either deny that there is any divine power, or contend that it does not interfere with human affairs, but those who prefer their own god to our God, the Founder of the holy and most glorious city, not knowing that He is also the invisible and unchangeable Founder of this visible and changing world, and the truest bestower of the blessed life which resides not in things created, but in Himself. For thus speaks His most trustworthy prophet: "It is good for me to be united to God."[408] Among philosophers it is a question, what is that end and good to the attainment of which all our duties are to have a relation? The Psalmist did not say, It is good for me to have great wealth, or to wear imperial insignia, purple, sceptre, and diadem; or, as some even of the philosophers have not blushed to say, It is good for me to enjoy sensual pleasure; or, as the better men among them seemed to say, My good is my spiritual strength; but, "It is good for me to be united to God." This he had learned from Him whom the holy angels, with the accompanying witness of miracles, presented as the sole object of worship. And hence he himself became the sacrifice of God, whose spiritual love inflamed him, and into whose ineffable and incorporeal embrace he yearned to cast himself. Moreover, if the worshippers of many gods (whatever kind of gods they fancy their own to be) believe that the miracles recorded in their civil histories, or in the books of magic, or of the more respectable theurgy, were wrought by these gods, what reason have they for refusing to believe the miracles recorded in those writings, to which we owe a credence as much greater as He is greater to whom alone these writings teach us to sacrifice?
19. On the reasonableness of offering, as the true religion teaches, a visible sacrifice to the one true and invisible God.
BOOK XXII. - Of the eternal happiness of the saints, the resurrection of the body, and the miracles of the early Church, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
How can I tell of the rest of creation, with all its beauty and utility, which the divine goodness has given to man to please his eye and serve his purposes, condemned though he is, and hurled into these labours and miseries? Shall I speak of the manifold and various loveliness of sky, and earth, and sea; of the plentiful supply and wonderful qualities of the light; of sun, moon, and stars; of the shade of trees; of the colours and perfume of flowers; of the multitude of birds, all differing in plumage and in song; of the variety of animals, of which the smallest in size are often the most wonderful,the works of ants and bees astonishing us more than the huge bodies of whales? Shall I speak of the sea, which itself is so grand a spectacle, when it arrays itself as it were in vestures of various colours, now running through every shade of green, and again becoming purple or blue? Is it not delightful to look at it in storm, and experience the soothing complacency which it inspires, by suggesting that we ourselves are not tossed and shipwrecked?[1022] What shall I say of the numberless kinds of food to alleviate hunger, and the variety of seasonings to stimulate appetite which are scattered everywhere by nature, and for which we are not indebted to the art of cookery? How many natural appliances are there for preserving and restoring health! How grateful is the alternation of day and night! how pleasant the breezes that cool the air! how abundant the supply of clothing furnished us by trees and animals! Who can enumerate all the blessings we enjoy? If I were to attempt to detail and unfold only these few which I have indicated in the mass, such an enumeration would fill a volume. And all these are but the solace of the[Pg 529] wretched and condemned, not the rewards of the blessed. What then shall these rewards be, if such be the blessings of a condemned state? What will He give to those whom He has predestined to life, who has given such things even to those whom He has predestined to death? What blessings will He in the blessed life shower upon those for whom, even in this state of misery, He has been willing that His only-begotten Son should endure such sufferings even to death? Thus the apostle reasons concerning those who are predestined to that kingdom: "He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also give us all things?"[1023] When this promise is fulfilled, what shall we be? What blessings shall we receive in that kingdom, since already we have received as the pledge of them Christ's dying? In what condition shall the spirit of man be, when it has no longer any vice at all; when it neither yields to any, nor is in bondage to any, nor has to make war against any, but is perfected, and enjoys undisturbed peace with itself? Shall it not then know all things with certainty, and without any labour or error, when unhindered and joyfully it drinks the wisdom of God at the fountainhead? What shall the body be, when it is in every respect subject to the spirit, from which it shall draw a life so sufficient, as to stand in need of no other nutriment? For it shall no longer be animal, but spiritual, having indeed the substance of flesh, but without any fleshly corruption.
25. Of the obstinacy of those individuals who impugn the resurrection of the body, though, as was predicted, the whole world believes it.
Cratylus, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
sometimes uses purple only, or any other colour, and sometimes mixes
up several colours, as his method is when he has to paint flesh colour
Diamond Sutra 1, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Bowl: The bowl, or patra, was called the vessel of humility, and the Vinaya, or rules of the Buddhist order, established limits as to its size, material, and color. In the Buddhas day, most bowls were made of iron in order to withstand being banged about during the constant wandering of the monks. However, bowls of clay and stone were also used, and the Buddhas own bowl was made of purple stone. It was said to have been the bowl used by Vipashyin, the first buddha of the present kalpa, and was given to Shakyamuni by the Guardians of the Four Quarters following his
Enlightenment.
ENNEAD 03.02 - Of Providence., #Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 04, #Plotinus, #Christianity
Besides, if this world contain both bad and good people, and if the latter play the greater part in the world, there will take place that which is seen in dramas where the poet, at times, imposes his ideas on the actors, and again at others relies on their ingenuity. The obtaining of the first, second or third rank by an actor does not depend on the poet. The poet only assigns to each the part he is capable of filling, and assigns to him a suitable place. Likewise (in the world), each one occupies his assigned place, and the bad man, as well as the good one, has the place that suits him. Each one, according to his nature and character, comes to occupy the place that suits him, and that he had chosen, and then speaks and acts with piety if he be good, and impiously, if he be evil. Before the beginning of the drama, the actors already had their proper characters; they only developed it. In dramas composed by men, it is the poet who assigns their parts to the actors; and the latter are responsible only for the efficiency or inefficiency of their acting; for they have nothing to do but repeat the words of the poet. But in this drama (of life), of which men imitate certain parts when their nature is poetic, it is the soul that is the actor. This actor receives his part from the creator, as stage-actors receive from the poet their masks, garments, their purple robe, or their rags. Thus in the drama of the world it is not from chance that the soul receives her part.
1072
Ex Oblivione, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Once when the gentle rain fell I glided in a barge down a sunless stream under the earth till I reached another world of purple twilight, iridescent arbours, and undying roses.
And once I walked through a golden valley that led to shadowy groves and ruins, and ended in a mighty wall green with antique vines, and pierced by a little gate of bronze.
Liber 46 - The Key of the Mysteries, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
and with every mocking purple. After Jesus the Inquisitor they have
invented the "sans-culotte" Jesus! Measure if you can all the tears and
Medea - A Vergillian Cento, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
In bedroom lingering in purple bright--
But not indeed escaping punishment
Phaedo, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
The tale, my friend, he said, is as follows:In the first place, the earth, when looked at from above, is in appearance streaked like one of those balls which have leather coverings in twelve pieces, and is decked with various colours, of which the colours used by painters on earth are in a manner samples. But there the whole earth is made up of them, and they are brighter far and clearer than ours; there is a purple of wonderful lustre, also the radiance of gold, and the white which is in the earth is whiter than any chalk or snow. Of these and other colours the earth is made up, and they are more in number and fairer than the eye of man has ever seen; the very hollows (of which I was speaking) filled with air and water have a colour of their own, and are seen like light gleaming amid the diversity of the other colours, so that the whole presents a single and continuous appearance of variety in unity. And in this fair region everything that growstrees, and flowers, and fruitsare in a like degree fairer than any here; and there are hills, having stones in them in a like degree smoother, and more transparent, and fairer in colour than our highly-valued emeralds and sardonyxes and jaspers, and other gems, which are but minute fragments of them: for there all the stones are like our precious stones, and fairer still (compare Republic). The reason is, that they are pure, and not, like our precious stones, infected or corroded by the corrupt briny elements which coagulate among us, and which breed foulness and disease both in earth and stones, as well as in animals and plants. They are the jewels of the upper earth, which also shines with gold and silver and the like, and they are set in the light of day and are large and abundant and in all places, making the earth a sight to gladden the beholder's eye. And there are animals and men, some in a middle region, others dwelling about the air as we dwell about the sea; others in islands which the air flows round, near the continent: and in a word, the air is used by them as the water and the sea are by us, and the ether is to them what the air is to us. Moreover, the temperament of their seasons is such that they have no disease, and live much longer than we do, and have sight and hearing and smell, and all the other senses, in far greater perfection, in the same proportion that air is purer than water or the ether than air. Also they have temples and sacred places in which the gods really dwell, and they hear their voices and receive their answers, and are conscious of them and hold converse with them, and they see the sun, moon, and stars as they truly are, and their other blessedness is of a piece with this.
Such is the nature of the whole earth, and of the things which are around the earth; and there are divers regions in the hollows on the face of the globe everywhere, some of them deeper and more extended than that which we inhabit, others deeper but with a narrower opening than ours, and some are shallower and also wider. All have numerous perforations, and there are passages broad and narrow in the interior of the earth, connecting them with one another; and there flows out of and into them, as into basins, a vast tide of water, and huge subterranean streams of perennial rivers, and springs hot and cold, and a great fire, and great rivers of fire, and streams of liquid mud, thin or thick (like the rivers of mud in Sicily, and the lava streams which follow them), and the regions about which they happen to flow are filled up with them. And there is a swinging or see-saw in the interior of the earth which moves all this up and down, and is due to the following cause:There is a chasm which is the vastest of them all, and pierces right through the whole earth; this is that chasm which Homer describes in the words,
The Dwellings of the Philosophers, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
that Raymond Lully prepared acetone, and Cassius the purple of gold; that Glauber obtained
sodium sulphate and Van Helmont recognized the existence of gases. But, with the exception
--
green, which they were at the beginning, they now appear adorned with a brilliant purple
envelope, a sure clue to their maturity and excellence.
--
[*427-1 (phoinis ) purple red indicates. De Cyrano Bergerac does not omit to speak about it, in
the course of an allegorical tale where is interspersed some of this language of the birds which
--
be green, its Breast Azure-enameled, its Wings Incarnate, and its Head purple, which tossed a
glittering Crown of Gold, the Rays whereof sparkled from its Eyes. It kept a long time upon
--
virgin whose crown is golden and whose tunic is white, covered with an ample purple drape.
Her eyes are soft and her bearing modest. She bears on her bosom a rich jewel, symbol of her
--
This very bright body is endowed with a magnificent purple coloration which is the color
of pure iron analogous to the iodine vapors in terms of its brightness and intensity. It
--
being of a light blue color, the purple resulting from their combination, reveals the totality of
the metal. Subjected to the philosophical dissolution, silver abandons few impurities, in
The Gospel According to John, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
1 Then Pilate took Jesus and scourged him. 2 And the soldiers plaited a crown of thorns, and put it on his head, and arrayed him in a purple robe; 3 they came up to him, saying, "Hail, King of the Jews!" and struck him with their hands. 4 Pilate went out again, and said to them, "See, I am bringing him out to you, that you may know that I find no crime in him." 5 So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe.
Pilate said to them, "Behold the man!"
The Gospel According to Luke, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
19 There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day: 20 And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores, 21 And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man's table: moreover the dogs came and licked his sores.
22 And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom: the rich man also died, and was buried; 23 And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. 24 And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame.
The Gospel According to Mark, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
16 The soldiers took Him away into the palace (that is, the Praetorium), and they called together the whole Roman cohort. 17 They dressed Him up in purple, and after twisting a crown of thorns, they put it on Him; 18 and they began to acclaim Him, "Hail, King of the Jews!" 19 They kept beating His head with a reed, and spitting on Him, and kneeling and bowing before Him. 20 After they had mocked Him, they took the purple robe off Him and put His own garments on Him. And they led Him out to crucify Him.
The Way of the Cross
The Immortal, #Labyrinths, #Jorge Luis Borges, #Poetry
At the end of one corridor, a not unforeseen wall blocked my path - and a distant light fell upon me. I raised my dazzled eyes; above, vertiginously high above, I saw a circle of sky so blue it was almost purple. The metal treads of a stairway led up the wall. Weariness made my muscles slack, but I climbed the stairs, only pausing from time to time to sob clumsily with joy. Little by little I began to discern friezes and the capitals of columns, triangular pediments and vaults, confused glories carved in granite and marble. Thus it was that I was led to ascend from the blind realm of black and intertwining labyrinths into the brilliant City.
I emerged into a kind of small plaza - a courtyard might better describe it. It was surrounded by a single building, of irregular angles and varying heights. It was to this heterogeneous building that the many cupolas and columns belonged. More than any other feature of that incredible monument, I was arrested by the great antiquity of its construction. I felt that it had existed before humankind, before the world itself.
The Revelation of Jesus Christ or the Apocalypse, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
1 And there came one of the seven angels which had the seven vials, and talked with me, saying unto me, Come hither; I will shew unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth upon many waters: 2 With whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication, and the inhabitants of the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her fornication. 3 So he carried me away in the spirit into the wilderness: and I saw a woman sit upon a scarlet coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns. 4 And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication: 5 And upon her forehead was a name written, Mystery, Babylon The Great, The Mother of Harlots and Abominations of the Earth. 6 And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration.
Meaning of the Beast and Harlot
--
11 And the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her; for no man buyeth their merchandise any more: 12 The merchandise of gold, and silver, and precious stones, and of pearls, and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all thyine wood, and all manner vessels of ivory, and all manner vessels of most precious wood, and of brass, and iron, and marble, 13 And cinnamon, and odours, and ointments, and frankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour, and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and souls of men. 14 And the fruits that thy soul lusted after are departed from thee, and all things which were dainty and goodly are departed from thee, and thou shalt find them no more at all.
15 The merchants of these things, which were made rich by her, shall stand afar off for the fear of her torment, weeping and wailing, 16 And saying, Alas, alas, that great city, that was clothed in fine linen, and purple, and scarlet, and decked with gold, and precious stones, and pearls! 17 For in one hour so great riches is come to nought.
And every shipmaster, and all the company in ships, and sailors, and as many as trade by sea, stood afar off, 18 And cried when they saw the smoke of her burning, saying, What city is like unto this great city! 19 And they cast dust on their heads, and cried, weeping and wailing, saying, Alas, alas, that great city, wherein were made rich all that had ships in the sea by reason of her costliness! for in one hour is she made desolate. 20 Rejoice over her, thou heaven, and ye holy apostles and prophets; for God hath avenged you on her.
Thus Spoke Zarathustra text, #Thus Spoke Zarathustra, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
its purple saddles!"
It may be ungracious, though hardly un-Nietzschean,
Timaeus, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Colours are flames which emanate from all bodies, having particles corresponding to the sense of sight. Some of the particles are less and some larger, and some are equal to the parts of the sight. The equal particles appear transparent; the larger contract, and the lesser dilate the sight. White is produced by the dilation, black by the contraction, of the particles of sight. There is also a swifter motion of another sort of fire which forces a way through the passages of the eyes, and elicits from them a union of fire and water which we call tears. The inner fire flashes forth, and the outer finds a way in and is extinguished in the moisture, and all sorts of colours are generated by the mixture. This affection is termed by us dazzling, and the object which produces it is called bright. There is yet another sort of fire which mingles with the moisture of the eye without flashing, and produces a colour like bloodto this we give the name of red. A bright element mingling with red and white produces a colour which we call auburn. The law of proportion, however, according to which compound colours are formed, cannot be determined scientifically or even probably. Red, when mingled with black and white, gives a purple hue, which becomes umber when the colours are burnt and there is a larger admixture of black. Flame-colour is a mixture of auburn and dun; dun of white and black; yellow of white and auburn. White and bright meeting, and falling upon a full black, become dark blue; dark blue mingling with white becomes a light blue; the union of flame-colour and black makes leek-green. There is no difficulty in seeing how other colours are probably composed. But he who should attempt to test the truth of this by experiment, would forget the difference of the human and divine nature. God only is able to compound and resolve substances; such experiments are impossible to man.
These are the elements of necessity which the Creator received in the world of generation when he made the all-sufficient and perfect creature, using the secondary causes as his ministers, but himself fashioning the good in all things. For there are two sorts of causes, the one divine, the other necessary; and we should seek to discover the divine above all, and, for their sake, the necessary, because without them the higher cannot be attained by us.
--
Of the particles coming from other bodies which fall upon the sight, some are smaller and some are larger, and some are equal to the parts of the sight itself. Those which are equal are imperceptible, and we call them transparent. The larger produce contraction, the smaller dilation, in the sight, exercising a power akin to that of hot and cold bodies on the flesh, or of astringent bodies on the tongue, or of those heating bodies which we termed pungent. White and black are similar effects of contraction and dilation in another sphere, and for this reason have a different appearance. Wherefore, we ought to term white that which dilates the visual ray, and the opposite of this is black. There is also a swifter motion of a different sort of fire which strikes and dilates the ray of sight until it reaches the eyes, forcing a way through their passages and melting them, and eliciting from them a union of fire and water which we call tears, being itself an opposite fire which comes to them from an opposite directionthe inner fire flashes forth like lightning, and the outer finds a way in and is extinguished in the moisture, and all sorts of colours are generated by the mixture. This affection is termed dazzling, and the object which produces it is called bright and flashing. There is another sort of fire which is intermediate, and which reaches and mingles with the moisture of the eye without flashing; and in this, the fire mingling with the ray of the moisture, produces a colour like blood, to which we give the name of red. A bright hue mingled with red and white gives the colour called auburn (Greek). The law of proportion, however, according to which the several colours are formed, even if a man knew he would be foolish in telling, for he could not give any necessary reason, nor indeed any tolerable or probable explanation of them. Again, red, when mingled with black and white, becomes purple, but it becomes umber (Greek) when the colours are burnt as well as mingled and the black is more thoroughly mixed with them. Flame-colour (Greek) is produced by a union of auburn and dun (Greek), and dun by an admixture of black and white; pale yellow (Greek), by an admixture of white and auburn. White and bright meeting, and falling upon a full black, become dark blue (Greek), and when dark blue mingles with white, a light blue (Greek) colour is formed, as flame-colour with black makes leek green (Greek). There will be no difficulty in seeing how and by what mixtures the colours derived from these are made according to the rules of probability. He, however, who should attempt to verify all this by experiment, would forget the difference of the human and divine nature. For God only has the knowledge and also the power which are able to combine many things into one and again resolve the one into many. But no man either is or ever will be able to accomplish either the one or the other operation.
These are the elements, thus of necessity then subsisting, which the creator of the fairest and best of created things associated with himself, when he made the self-sufficing and most perfect God, using the necessary causes as his ministers in the accomplishment of his work, but himself contriving the good in all his creations. Wherefore we may distinguish two sorts of causes, the one divine and the other necessary, and may seek for the divine in all things, as far as our nature admits, with a view to the blessed life; but the necessary kind only for the sake of the divine, considering that without them and when isolated from them, these higher things for which we look cannot be apprehended or received or in any way shared by us.
Verses of Vemana, #is Book, #unset, #Zen
If we consider the conduct of men, surely no one is able to esteem it aright no more than we are able to esteem the purple hue of the pindi herb.
548
--- Overview of noun purple
The noun purple has 2 senses (first 1 from tagged texts)
1. (2) purple, purpleness ::: (a purple color or pigment)
2. purple ::: (of imperial status; "he was born to the purple")
--- Overview of verb purple
The verb purple has 2 senses (no senses from tagged texts)
1. purple ::: (become purple)
2. purple, empurple, purpurate ::: (color purple)
--- Overview of adj purple
The adj purple has 3 senses (first 1 from tagged texts)
1. (9) purple, violet, purplish ::: (of a color intermediate between red and blue)
2. empurpled, over-embellished, purple ::: (excessively elaborate or showily expressed; "a writer of empurpled literature"; "many purple passages"; "an over-embellished story of the fish that got away")
3. imperial, majestic, purple, regal, royal ::: (belonging to or befitting a supreme ruler; "golden age of imperial splendor"; "purple tyrant"; "regal attire"; "treated with royal acclaim"; "the royal carriage of a stag's head")
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun purple
2 senses of purple
Sense 1
purple, purpleness
=> chromatic color, chromatic colour, spectral color, spectral colour
=> color, colour, coloring, colouring
=> visual property
=> property
=> attribute
=> abstraction, abstract entity
=> entity
Sense 2
purple
=> nobility, noblesse
=> status, position
=> state
=> attribute
=> abstraction, abstract entity
=> entity
--- Hyponyms of noun purple
1 of 2 senses of purple
Sense 1
purple, purpleness
=> lavender
=> mauve
=> reddish purple, royal purple
=> violet, reddish blue
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun purple
2 senses of purple
Sense 1
purple, purpleness
=> chromatic color, chromatic colour, spectral color, spectral colour
Sense 2
purple
=> nobility, noblesse
--- Similarity of adj purple
3 senses of purple
Sense 1
purple, violet, purplish
=> chromatic (vs. achromatic)
Sense 2
empurpled, over-embellished, purple
=> rhetorical (vs. unrhetorical)
Sense 3
imperial, majestic, purple, regal, royal
=> noble (vs. lowborn)
--- Antonyms of adj purple
3 senses of purple
Sense 1
purple, violet, purplish
INDIRECT (VIA chromatic) -> achromatic, neutral
Sense 2
empurpled, over-embellished, purple
INDIRECT (VIA rhetorical) -> unrhetorical
Sense 3
imperial, majestic, purple, regal, royal
INDIRECT (VIA noble) -> lowborn
--- Coordinate Terms (sisters) of noun purple
2 senses of purple
Sense 1
purple, purpleness
-> chromatic color, chromatic colour, spectral color, spectral colour
=> red, redness
=> orange, orangeness
=> salmon
=> yellow, yellowness
=> blond, blonde
=> green, greenness, viridity
=> blue, blueness
=> purple, purpleness
=> pink
=> brown, brownness
=> olive
=> pastel
=> complementary color, complementary
Sense 2
purple
-> nobility, noblesse
=> purple
--- Pertainyms of adj purple
3 senses of purple
Sense 1
purple, violet, purplish
Sense 2
empurpled, over-embellished, purple
Sense 3
imperial, majestic, purple, regal, royal
--- Derived Forms of adj purple
2 of 3 senses of purple
Sense 1
purple, violet, purplish
RELATED TO->(noun) purple#1
=> purple, purpleness
RELATED TO->(noun) purpleness#1
=> purple, purpleness
Sense 3
imperial, majestic, purple, regal, royal
RELATED TO->(noun) purple#2
=> purple
--- Grep of noun purple
banded purple
early purple orchid
late purple aster
order of the purple heart
purple
purple-flowering raspberry
purple-fringed orchid
purple-fringed orchis
purple-hooded orchis
purple-staining cortinarius
purple-stemmed aster
purple amaranth
purple anise
purple apricot
purple avens
purple bacteria
purple beech
purple boneset
purple chinese houses
purple clematis
purple clover
purple cress
purple emperor
purple finch
purple fringeless orchid
purple fringeless orchis
purple gallinule
purple grackle
purple granadillo
purple ground cherry
purple heart
purple heather
purple loco
purple locoweed
purple loosestrife
purple martin
purple milk vetch
purple mullein
purple nightshade
purple onion
purple orchis
purple osier
purple passage
purple pea
purple poppy mallow
purple rock brake
purple sage
purple sanicle
purple saxifrage
purple silkweed
purple strawberry guava
purple trillium
purple velvet plant
purple virgin's bower
purple willow
purpleness
red-spotted purple
reddish purple
retinal purple
royal purple
texas purple spike
tyrian purple
visual purple
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Wikipedia - Riders of the Purple Sage (1918 film) -- 1918 film by Frank Lloyd
Wikipedia - Riders of the Purple Sage (1925 film) -- 1925 film
Wikipedia - Riders of the Purple Sage (1931 film) -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - Riders of the Purple Sage (1941 film) -- 1941 film by James Tinling
Wikipedia - Riders of the Purple Sage (1996 film) -- 1996 television film
Wikipedia - Riders of the Purple Wage -- Novella by Philip JosM-CM-) Farmer
Wikipedia - Rocky Bleier -- Recipient of the Purple Heart medal
Wikipedia - Shades of purple -- Variations of the color purple
Wikipedia - Shoshana Johnson -- Recipient of the Purple Heart medal
Wikipedia - Tanzanite -- Blue to purple variety of the mineral zoisite
Wikipedia - Ted W. Lawson -- American soldier, author and Purple Heart recipient
Wikipedia - Tee Masaniai -- Recipient of the Purple Heart medal
Wikipedia - The City of Purple Dreams (1918 film) -- 1918 film directed by Colin Campbell
Wikipedia - The City of Purple Dreams (1928 film) -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - The Color Purple (film) -- 1985 film directed by Steven Spielberg
Wikipedia - The Color Purple -- 1982 novel by Alice Walker
Wikipedia - The Deep Purple (1920 film) -- 1920 film by Raoul Walsh
Wikipedia - Their Purple Moment -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - The Purple Book (Labour Party) -- 20111 essay collection
Wikipedia - The Purple Dawn -- 1923 silent film by Charles R. Seeling
Wikipedia - The Purple Gang (film) -- 1960 film
Wikipedia - The Purple Gang -- Criminal mob group of the 1920s
Wikipedia - The Purple Highway -- 1923 film by Henry Kolker
Wikipedia - The Purple Lady -- 1916 film directed by George A. Lessey
Wikipedia - The Purple Onion (Toronto) -- Canadian music venue
Wikipedia - The Purple People Eater -- 1958 single by Sheb Wooley
Wikipedia - The Purple Vigilantes -- 1938 film
Wikipedia - The Unknown Purple -- 1923 film by Roland West
Wikipedia - Trabea -- Various types of Ancient Roman clothing, especially a toga-like garment worn by Consuls, distinguished by its red or purple color
Wikipedia - Type B Cipher Machine -- Japanese diplomatic code named Purple by the US
Wikipedia - Tyrian purple -- Natural dye extracted from ''Murex'' sea snails
Wikipedia - Ube cheesecake -- Filipino cheesecake colored purple with yams
Wikipedia - Ube ice cream -- Filipino ice cream made with purple yam
Wikipedia - Ultramarine -- Deep blue purple color pigment which was originally made with ground lapis lazuli
Wikipedia - Velvet-purple coronet -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Viva Purple -- Line on the Viva bus rapid transit system
Wikipedia - William O. Eareckson -- US Air Force officer and recipient of the Purple Heart medal
Wikipedia - Woman from Tokyo -- 1973 single by Deep Purple
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https://military.wikia.org/wiki/Category:Recipients_of_the_Purple_Heart_medal
https://military.wikia.org/wiki/Purple_Heart
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/File:Chasublepurple.jpg
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Royal_Arch_Purple
Kheper - purple -- 44
wiki.auroville - Purple-rumped_sunbird
https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Analysis/PurpleIsTheNewBlack
https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Creator/Purpledragon6
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Barney (1992 - 2010) - It started as a home video series in 1988 called Barney & The Backyard Gang created by Sheryl leach and starring Sandy Duncan. But from the moment Barney & Friends hit the airwaves on PBS in 1992, the famous purple dinosaur become a phenomenon in both children's television and pop culture. He was ev...
Legends of the Hidden Temple (1993 - 1996) - A popular game show on Nickelodeon where kids on several teams would comptete against each other to find an anicient artifact. The game begins with six teams, the Red jaguars, Blue barracudas, Green monkeys, Orange iguanas, Purple parrots, and Silver snakes. In the first round the six teams would ha...
Eek! the Cat (1992 - 1997) - The adventures of a chubby purple cat named Eek! He has a girlfriend who is about five to six times his size. And she has a crazy shark like dog that constantly gives Eek trouble.
GUTS (1992 - 1996) - An American Gladiators type show for kids that aired on Nickelodeon. It was hosted by Mike O' Malley. In the game, three children or teens represented by blue, red, and purple compete in various sporting events. Some events made use of wired harnesses while others used a wave pool or racing track. T...
The Dreamstone (1990 - 1995) - A cartoon between good and evil, The Dreammaker, Wuts, and Noops lived in the Land of Dreams, where the Dreamstone was the most powerfull object in the land. Where as on the other side on the purple mist, was Viltheed, Zordrak and an army of Urpneys. Along with Argorribles, and in later episodes, Th...
Widget, the World Watcher (1990 - 2012) - A purple alien and three kids, Kristine, Kevin and Brian try to save the environment. They are often helped by Megabrain who is only a floating head with hands
The Adventures of T-Rex (1992 - 1993) - The world of T-Rex is inhabited by clothed civilized dinosaurs. In Rep City a gang of thugs, led by Big Boss Graves, is planning to take over the city, but professor Edison asks the help of 5 stand-up comedians, the 5 T-Rex brothers, Bugsy (purple), Bernie (blue), Buck (yellow), Bubba (green) and Br...
The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang (1980 - 1981) - A young (purple) woman arrives in 1957 with her time machine and befriends the Fonz and the "Happy Days" gang. They join her in her time machine and have time traveling adventures on Earth and in Space.
The Maxx (1995 - 1995) - Maxx is a purple-clad superhero living in a cardboard box. His only friend is Julie Winters, a freelance social worker. Maxx often finds himself shifting back and forth between the "real" world and a more primitive outback world where he rules, and protects Julie. Mr. Gone, a self-proclaimed "studen...
Wildfire (1986 - 1986) - Year ago, in a fantasy realm, a benevolent queen died shortly after giving birth to a daughter. The baby girl is taken into the real world, and left on the doorstep of a kind man, with no hint at her origin except for a purple horse medallion around her neck. Fast forward, and the young girl is on...
You Wish (1997 - 1998) - When divorced mother of two Jillian Apple (Harley Jane Kozak) goes into Mustapha's (John Rhys-Davies) rug shop in search of a purple rug, she gets more than she bargained for... with the rug comes an imprisoned Genie (John Ales)! Although goofy Genie's eager to use his magical powers to serve his n...
Widget, the World Watcher (1990 - 1990) - This was about a little purple alien who was into saving the environment. He lived in a little cave at the beach where a group of kids would visit him.
Dr. Slump (1981 - 1986) - Akira Toriyama's first anime. Dr. Senbei Norimaki created a purple haired android who can run real fast, cannot get damaged, and has great strength. Until 1986, Akira Toriyama moves on to Dragonball.
The Wiggles (1998 - Current) - The Wiggles are an Australian band who wear yellow, red, purple, and blue skivvies.
Harold and the Purple Crayon (2001 - 2002) - The protagonist, Harold, is a curious four-year-old boy who, with his purple crayon, has the power to create a world of his own simply by drawing it.
Robot and Monster (2012 - 2015) - Robot & Monster focuses on the day-to-day adventures of Robot Default, a genius inventor, living with his roommate Monster Krumholtz, a cheerful and enthusiastic purple creature, and their pest-turned-pet Marf.
My Little Pony: The Movie(1986) - The Witches from the Volcano of Gloom send a very powerful, purple slime-like substance known as "Smooze" to Ponyland. It is up to all of the little ponies to find help to stop the Smooze. Will the little ponies and there friends be able to save Ponyland from the Smooze and the Witches? Find out...
The Color Purple(1985) - This film follows the life of Celie, a young black girl growing up in the early 1900's. The first time we see Celie, she is 14 - and pregnant - by her father. We stay with her for the next 30 years of her toug
Purple People Eater(1980) - A kid plays the old novelty song "Purple People Eater" and the creature actually appears. The two then proceed to help an elderly couple who are being evicted by their greed
Strawberry Shortcake in Big Apple City(1981) - Strawberry Shortcake travels to Big Apple City to compete with the Peculiar Purple Pieman of Porcupine Peak in a televise
Purple Rain(1984) - Take a richly-human story of survival and triumph, a now soundtrack by the hottest bands around and the startling presence and musically of rock superstar Prince --- the man who lived the music --- and you've got what may be in Rolling Stone's words "the smartest, most spritually ambitous rock-'n'-r...
Graffiti Bridge(1990) - Graffiti Bridge is a 1990 American rock musical drama film written by, directed by, and starring Prince in his final film role. It is the sequel to his 1984 film, Purple Rain. Like its predecessor, it was accompanied by a soundtrack album of the sam
The Court Jester(1956) - In medieval England, a king and his family have been massacred and a strugggle has begun to give the throne to its rightful heir, a baby carrying the royal birthmark of a purple pimpernal on his posterior. Meanwhile, Hubert Hawkins is a former carnival entertainer who plans to steal the throne for h...
Ninja Kill(1987) - An army of evil purple ninjas do battle with sadistic yellow ninja to stop an assassination plot.
The Purple Rose Of Cairo(1985) - In New Jersey in 1935, a movie character walks off the screen and into the real world.
https://myanimelist.net/manga/15449/Yami_no_Purple_Eyes
https://myanimelist.net/manga/3694/Honoka_ni_Purple
https://myanimelist.net/manga/41865/Hajishirazu_no_Purple_Haze__JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_yori
https://myanimelist.net/manga/72855/Umineko_no_Naku_Koro_ni_Shi__Forgery_of_the_Purple_Logic
Purple Noon (1960) ::: 7.8/10 -- Plein soleil (original title) -- Purple Noon Poster -- Tom Ripley is a talented mimic, moocher, forger and all-around criminal improviser; but there's more to Tom Ripley than even he can guess. Director: Ren Clment Writers:
Purple Rain (1984) ::: 6.6/10 -- R | 1h 51min | Drama, Music, Romance | 27 July 1984 (USA) -- A young musician, tormented by an abusive situation at home, must contend with a rival singer, a burgeoning romance, and his own dissatisfied band, as his star begins to rise. Director: Albert Magnoli Writers:
Purple Violets (2007) ::: 6.4/10 -- 1h 43min | Comedy, Drama, Romance | 20 February 2009 (Mexico) -- Patti Petalson (Blair) struggles with the pressure of becoming the next important American writer. Director: Edward Burns Writer: Edward Burns Stars:
The Color Purple (1985) ::: 7.8/10 -- PG-13 | 2h 34min | Drama | 7 February 1986 (USA) -- A black Southern woman struggles to find her identity after suffering abuse from her father and others over four decades. Director: Steven Spielberg Writers: Menno Meyjes (screenplay), Alice Walker (novel)
The Puffy Chair (2005) ::: 6.5/10 -- R | 1h 25min | Comedy, Drama, Romance | 27 April 2007 (UK) -- Josh Sagers drives cross-country on a mission to deliver his father's birthday gift - a giant purple LazyBoy. Directors: Jay Duplass, Mark Duplass (uncredited) Writers: Mark Duplass, Jay Duplass Stars:
The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985) ::: 7.7/10 -- PG | 1h 22min | Comedy, Fantasy, Romance | 19 April 1985 (USA) -- In New Jersey in 1935, a movie character walks off the screen and into the real world. Director: Woody Allen Writer: Woody Allen
https://purple-hyacinth.fandom.com/
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https://colors.fandom.com/wiki/Purple
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https://crossfirefps.fandom.com/wiki/Jungle_Knife-Purple_Camo
https://cyanideandhappiness.fandom.com/wiki/Purple-Shirted_Eye_Stabber
https://darksouls.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Coward's_Crystal
https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Healing_Ray
https://dnd4.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Dragon_Knight
https://dreamfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Bedtime_with_Barney:_The_Perfectly_Purple_Planet_Adventure
https://dreamfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Dream_Fiction_Wiki:Home?file=220px-Poster+of+the+movie+Purple+People+Eater.jpg
https://dreamfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Pink_%26_Purple
https://dreamfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Pink_and_Purple
https://dreamfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Pink_i_Purple
https://dreamfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Pink_&_Purple
https://dreamfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Guy_(TV_series)
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https://elderscrolls.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Mountain_Flower
https://elderscrolls.fandom.com/wiki/Purple-Plumes
https://fanfiction.fandom.com/wiki/A_2_Sister_And_1_Brother_From_50_Years_in_the_past_And_A_Wolf_With_Purple_And_Traquas
https://fanfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Lost_Purple
https://fanfiction.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Processor_Unit
https://farmville.fandom.com/wiki/Ewe_(Pastel_Purple)
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https://ffxiclopedia.fandom.com/wiki/Purple,_The_New_Black
https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Plains_of_Purple_Dust
https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Dragon
https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Dragon_Knight
https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Dragon_knight
https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_dragon_knight
https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Purple_Dragon_Knights
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Battle Spirits: Kakumei no Galette -- -- Bandai Namco Pictures -- ? eps -- Card game -- Game Military Sci-Fi Adventure Demons -- Battle Spirits: Kakumei no Galette Battle Spirits: Kakumei no Galette -- Centuries after the events of Saga Brave, a third race called the Mauve has emerged alongside Humans and Mazoku. Identified by their purple blood and immense intelligence, the Mauve are shunned by the other two races and are viewed as a threat to the peace of the world. Having experienced this prejudice first-hand, a teenage Mauve named Galette Revolt journeys forth to find a way for all races to understand each other by playing Battle Spirits. However, other factions from each race aim to maintain the peace/reform the world through more nefarious ways... -- ONA - Aug 28, 2020 -- 682 N/A -- -- Future Card Buddyfight Recap -- -- OLM, Xebec -- 1 ep -- Card game -- Game -- Future Card Buddyfight Recap Future Card Buddyfight Recap -- Recap episode aired between episodes 23 and 24. -- Special - Jun 14, 2014 -- 645 6.01
Battle Spirits: Kakumei no Galette -- -- Bandai Namco Pictures -- ? eps -- Card game -- Game Military Sci-Fi Adventure Demons -- Battle Spirits: Kakumei no Galette Battle Spirits: Kakumei no Galette -- Centuries after the events of Saga Brave, a third race called the Mauve has emerged alongside Humans and Mazoku. Identified by their purple blood and immense intelligence, the Mauve are shunned by the other two races and are viewed as a threat to the peace of the world. Having experienced this prejudice first-hand, a teenage Mauve named Galette Revolt journeys forth to find a way for all races to understand each other by playing Battle Spirits. However, other factions from each race aim to maintain the peace/reform the world through more nefarious ways... -- ONA - Aug 28, 2020 -- 682 N/A -- -- Shinkai no Kantai: Submarine 707 -- -- J.C.Staff, Toei Animation -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Action Adventure Military Sci-Fi -- Shinkai no Kantai: Submarine 707 Shinkai no Kantai: Submarine 707 -- A mysterious object attacks and destroys any ship or submarine. Submarine 707 has the mission to search for that mysterious object, when summoned by a whale to follow it. The whale leads them to the world of Mu. But on their way they meet the mysterious object. They find out , it is Commander Red Silver, who had attacked the world of Mu to get Mu's magma sources. Submarine takes up the battle to defeat Red Silver and save Mu, and the world for that matter. -- -- (Source: ANN) -- OVA - Jan 10, 1997 -- 680 5.64
Mahouka Koukou no Rettousei: Tsuioku-hen -- -- - -- ? eps -- Light novel -- Sci-Fi Supernatural Magic -- Mahouka Koukou no Rettousei: Tsuioku-hen Mahouka Koukou no Rettousei: Tsuioku-hen -- Looking at Miyuki and Tatsuya now, it might be hard to imagine them as anything other than loving siblings. But it wasn't always this way.. -- -- Three years ago, Miyuki was always uncomfortable around her older brother. The rest of their family treated him no better than a lowly servant, even though he was the perfect Guardian, watching over Miyuki while she lived a normal middle school life. But what really bothered her was that he never showed any emotions or thoughts of his own. -- -- However, when danger comes calling during a fateful trip to Okinawa, their relationship as brother and sister will change forever… -- -- (Source: Yen Press) -- - - ??? ??, ???? -- 25,203 N/ASakasama no Patema: Beginning of the Day -- -- Purple Cow Studio Japan, Studio Rikka -- 4 eps -- - -- Sci-Fi -- Sakasama no Patema: Beginning of the Day Sakasama no Patema: Beginning of the Day -- This is an online distribution of the prologue of the movie, illustrating the first day of the entire story. -- -- A world, forever beyond your expectations. -- -- In a dark, cramped, underground world of endless tunnels and shafts, people wear protective suits and live out their modest yet happy lives. The princess of the underground community, Patema, goes out exploring as always, inspired by her curiosity of the unknown depths of the world. -- -- Her favorite spot is the "danger zone," an area forbidden by the "rule" of the community. Despite being frequently chastised by her caretaker Jii, she cannot hold back her curiosity for the reason behind the rule, because no one would tell her what the "danger" was. When she approaches the hidden "secret," the story begins. -- -- (Source: translation of a synopsis from the nicovideo news) -- Special - Feb 26, 2012 -- 25,203 7.38
Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi -- -- Studio Kafka -- 3 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Magic Fantasy Shounen -- Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi -- The story takes place shortly before Cartaphilus took a nap and Chise became an auditor at the academy. -- -- Elias and his friends help Chise prepare for the academy, where in the middle of everyday life, Spriggan visits the mansion on a spooky horse with the words, "The appearance of the ghost hunting association is unusual this time." -- -- Gabriel, an ordinary boy who just moved from London, was bored of his environment of parting with friends, being in an unfamiliar location, and everything else. Sitting by the window and glancing beyond, he spotted a purple smoke and decided to chase after it, looking to escape his boredom. Though it should not, the world of the boy begins to converge with the wizards, who live on the other side behind a thick veil. -- -- (Source: MAL News) -- OVA - Sep 10, 2021 -- 18,799 N/A -- -- Ai Tenshi Densetsu Wedding Peach -- -- OLM -- 51 eps -- Manga -- Adventure Magic Comedy Romance Shoujo -- Ai Tenshi Densetsu Wedding Peach Ai Tenshi Densetsu Wedding Peach -- There are three known worlds—the human world, the angel world, and the devil world. The evil queen Raindevilla yearns to destroy the angel world with help or her many devil minions. The goddess Aphrodite sends an angel to the human world, Limone, to summon three love angels in the form of three school girls, Momoko Hanasaki, Yuri Tanima, and Hinagiku Tamano, who together become Angel Lilly, Angel Daisy, and Wedding Peach. The three girls must fight to overcome the evils of the devils, as well as their own lives, and restore peace to the angel world by gathering all pieces of the Sacred Four Somethings (or Saint Something Four) and defeat the evil queen once and for all. -- -- (Source: ANN) -- -- Licensor: -- ADV Films -- 18,769 6.68
Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi -- -- Studio Kafka -- 3 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Magic Fantasy Shounen -- Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi -- The story takes place shortly before Cartaphilus took a nap and Chise became an auditor at the academy. -- -- Elias and his friends help Chise prepare for the academy, where in the middle of everyday life, Spriggan visits the mansion on a spooky horse with the words, "The appearance of the ghost hunting association is unusual this time." -- -- Gabriel, an ordinary boy who just moved from London, was bored of his environment of parting with friends, being in an unfamiliar location, and everything else. Sitting by the window and glancing beyond, he spotted a purple smoke and decided to chase after it, looking to escape his boredom. Though it should not, the world of the boy begins to converge with the wizards, who live on the other side behind a thick veil. -- -- (Source: MAL News) -- OVA - Sep 10, 2021 -- 18,799 N/A -- -- Danchigai: Juusan Goutou Sentou Ikitai!! -- -- Creators in Pack -- 1 ep -- 4-koma manga -- Slice of Life Comedy -- Danchigai: Juusan Goutou Sentou Ikitai!! Danchigai: Juusan Goutou Sentou Ikitai!! -- Unaired episode of Danchigai included on the Blu-ray/DVD volume. -- Special - Sep 18, 2015 -- 18,734 6.44
Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi -- -- Studio Kafka -- 3 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Magic Fantasy Shounen -- Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi Mahoutsukai no Yome: Nishi no Shounen to Seiran no Kishi -- The story takes place shortly before Cartaphilus took a nap and Chise became an auditor at the academy. -- -- Elias and his friends help Chise prepare for the academy, where in the middle of everyday life, Spriggan visits the mansion on a spooky horse with the words, "The appearance of the ghost hunting association is unusual this time." -- -- Gabriel, an ordinary boy who just moved from London, was bored of his environment of parting with friends, being in an unfamiliar location, and everything else. Sitting by the window and glancing beyond, he spotted a purple smoke and decided to chase after it, looking to escape his boredom. Though it should not, the world of the boy begins to converge with the wizards, who live on the other side behind a thick veil. -- -- (Source: MAL News) -- OVA - Sep 10, 2021 -- 18,799 N/A -- -- Kyoushoku Soukou Guyver (2005) -- -- OLM -- 26 eps -- Manga -- Adventure Sci-Fi Shounen -- Kyoushoku Soukou Guyver (2005) Kyoushoku Soukou Guyver (2005) -- Sho Fukamachi, a normal teenager accidentally found an alien object called Unit and thus, changed his life forever. The Unit bonded with Sho, resulting in an incredibly powerful life-form called Guyver. With this great power, Sho battles the mysterious Chronos organization and it's Zoanoids, in order to protect his friends and his world. Unknown to Sho, the battle against Chronos will lead to the discovery of the origins of human, their destiny, and the Creators... -- -- (Source: ANN) -- 18,791 7.25
Mobile Suit Gundam 0083: The Fading Light of Zeon -- -- Sunrise -- 1 ep -- Original -- Action Sci-Fi Adventure Space Mecha -- Mobile Suit Gundam 0083: The Fading Light of Zeon Mobile Suit Gundam 0083: The Fading Light of Zeon -- U.C. 0083 - Three years after the end of the catastrophic One Year War, peace on Earth and the colonies is shattered by the presence of the Delaz Fleet, a rogue Zeon military group loyal to the ideals of the late dictator Gihren Zabi. Delaz Fleet`s ace pilot Anavel Gato, once hailed as "The Nightmare of Solomon", infiltrates the Federation`s Torrington base in Australia and steals the nuclear-armed Gundam GP02A "Physalis" prototype. Rookie pilot Kou Uraki - with the aid of Anaheim Electronics engineer Nina Purpleton and the crew of the carrier Albion - pilots the Gundam GP01 "Zephyranthes" prototype in an attempt to recover the stolen Gundam unit and prevent another war from breaking out. -- -- (Source: AniDB) -- -- Licensor: -- Nozomi Entertainment -- Movie - Aug 29, 1992 -- 7,330 6.68
Paradise Kiss -- -- Madhouse -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Comedy Drama Josei Romance Slice of Life -- Paradise Kiss Paradise Kiss -- On her way home from school, Yukari Hayasaka is approached by a weird-looking guy who starts looking at her body intently. He's got blond spiky hair, a spiked choker, and multiple piercings on his ears and face. She wants nothing to do with him, and runs away, only to bump into a very tall and beautiful purple-haired woman with a flower pattern around her eye. Yukari faints from shock and wakes up later in a strange place called the Atelier. It turns out that these strangers are fashion designers who attend the most famous art school around, Yazawa Art Academy, and their group wants Yukari to model for their brand in Yazawa Academy's upcoming show. -- -- Yukari turns down their offer and escapes the Atelier, but unknowingly leaves her school ID behind. George Koizumi, the head designer, later sees it and immediately knows she would be the perfect model for them and will not stop until he gets what he wants—and he wants her. Yukari had never considered something as frivolous as modeling before, but could life among these eccentric designers actually prove to be fun? Or will Yukari lose herself in this world of art and passion? -- -- 157,790 7.83
Paradise Kiss -- -- Madhouse -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Comedy Drama Josei Romance Slice of Life -- Paradise Kiss Paradise Kiss -- On her way home from school, Yukari Hayasaka is approached by a weird-looking guy who starts looking at her body intently. He's got blond spiky hair, a spiked choker, and multiple piercings on his ears and face. She wants nothing to do with him, and runs away, only to bump into a very tall and beautiful purple-haired woman with a flower pattern around her eye. Yukari faints from shock and wakes up later in a strange place called the Atelier. It turns out that these strangers are fashion designers who attend the most famous art school around, Yazawa Art Academy, and their group wants Yukari to model for their brand in Yazawa Academy's upcoming show. -- -- Yukari turns down their offer and escapes the Atelier, but unknowingly leaves her school ID behind. George Koizumi, the head designer, later sees it and immediately knows she would be the perfect model for them and will not stop until he gets what he wants—and he wants her. Yukari had never considered something as frivolous as modeling before, but could life among these eccentric designers actually prove to be fun? Or will Yukari lose herself in this world of art and passion? -- -- -- Licensor: -- Geneon Entertainment USA -- 157,790 7.83
Rockman.EXE Movie: Hikari to Yami no Program -- -- Xebec -- 1 ep -- - -- Action Adventure Game Kids -- Rockman.EXE Movie: Hikari to Yami no Program Rockman.EXE Movie: Hikari to Yami no Program -- Deep in the dark recesses of the UnderNet, Forte sleeps as he drifts aimlessly. In this cybernetic graveyard, a pulsating power re-awakens Forte, alerting him to a dangerous being shortly ahead. A haunting face appears amidst a massive bright purple blob, laughing directly at Forte. Cursing him, Forte finds himself powerless as the blob takes form, and captures him within its grasp! -- Nearing the time of sunset, a peaceful city and its people go about their everyday business. Curious bystanders on a sidewalk glimpse a shimmering purple light, which suddenly expands into tall pillar that reaches up to the sky. Screams erupt from the people as the pillar of light takes flight, absorbing everything in its destructive path. A tower clock dings the hour of 4 o'clock as the pillar desintigrates, leaving behind a trail of cybernetic residue and utter emptyness. -- 'The Program of Light and Dark' -- -- (Source: Official Site) -- Movie - Mar 12, 2005 -- 3,827 7.21
Sakasama no Patema -- -- Purple Cow Studio Japan, Studio Rikka -- 1 ep -- Original -- Adventure Sci-Fi -- Sakasama no Patema Sakasama no Patema -- Patema is a plucky young girl from an underground civilization boasting an incredible network of tunnels. Inspired by a friend that mysteriously went missing, she is often reprimanded due to her constant excursions of these tunnels due to her royal status. After she enters what is known as the "forbidden zone," she accidentally falls into a giant bottomless pit after being startled by a strange creature. -- -- Finding herself on the surface, a world literally turned upside down, she begins falling towards the sky only to be saved by Age, a discontented student of the totalitarian nation known as Aiga. The people of Aiga are taught to believe that "Inverts," like Patema, are sinners that will be "swallowed by the sky," but Age has resisted this propaganda and decides to protect his new friend. A chance meeting between two curious teenagers leads to an exploration of two unique worlds as they begin working together to unveil the secrets of their origins in Sakasama no Patema, a heart-warming film about overcoming differences in order to coexist. -- -- -- The film was first premiered at France's Annecy, the world's largest animation festival, on June 13, 2013. Screening in Japanese theaters began on November 9, 2013. -- -- Licensor: -- GKIDS, NYAV Post -- Movie - Nov 9, 2013 -- 225,667 8.03
Tentacle and Witches -- -- - -- 4 eps -- Visual novel -- Hentai Supernatural Magic -- Tentacle and Witches Tentacle and Witches -- High school can be a complicated time for young men, especially for young men named Ichirou Tachibana. Ichirou knows his homeroom teacher Yuuko Morino's biggest secret: she's a witch! When fellow classmate and witch Lily Ramses Futaba catches him peaking on Yuuko, she decides it's the perfect time for her to use a new spell she's acquired and turn Ichirou into her familiar servant. -- -- Lily's planned antagonism for Ichirou goes awry when the spell turns him into some sort of twisted, purple, tentacle monster. Now he must directly acquire sexual energy from witches in order to sate the tentacle monster's lust and retain elements of his humanity. To make matters worse for the two witches, Ichirou's new form gives him the power to control them to satisfy his basest desires! -- -- The trio also find out that the spell that Lily acquired was sold to her deceptively and intentionally made to appear genuine. Amidst all the sexual misadventures in the Witches and Tentacle, they're about to discover that something far more sinister is at work, and they are but pawns within a larger game. -- OVA - May 27, 2011 -- 14,597 7.11
Yami no Purple Eye -- -- Toei Animation -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Psychological Supernatural Music Horror Mystery Shoujo -- Yami no Purple Eye Yami no Purple Eye -- Based on a shoujo manga written and illustrated by Shinohara Chie serialised in Shoujo Comic. -- -- The original story follows the struggles of a teenage girl after she finds herself turning into a lycanthropy-leopard and having to battle her newly found predatory instincts. -- -- In 1987 an animated music video of 30 minutes length was made based on the award winning manga. -- -- (Source: AniDB) -- Music - ??? ??, 1987 -- 1,424 4.76
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Edo_murasaki_sugata_kurabe_(Comparison_of_Figures_in_Edo_Purple)_by_Utagawa_Kunisada
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Purple_flowers_in_Hong_Kong
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:045_Purple_Glass_Buddha_from_Behind_(34801254210).jpg
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anemone_purple_anemonefish.jpg
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Convergence_in_the_vocabularies_that_emerged_in_populations_of_different_sizes,_for_N_=_2_(black_dots),_N_=_6_(blue_diamonds),_N_=_8_(purple_squares),_N_=_24_(green_triangles),_and_N_=_50_(yellow_circles).webp
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fluffy_purple_puppy_plushie_self_portrait.jpg
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=Category:Edo_murasaki_sugata_kurabe_(Comparison_of_Figures_in_Edo_Purple)_by_Utagawa_Kunisada&curid=103806370
3 (The Purple Album)
Adam Purple
Aechmea 'Purple Gem'
Agent Purple
Alvin Purple
American purple gallinule
A Purple Place for Dying
ASC Purple
At the Purple Onion
Born in the purple
Bridgeport Purple Knights
Bromocresol purple
Buddleja 'Hinebud 2' = Purple Splendor
Buddleja davidii 'Monum' = Nanho Purple
Buddleja davidii 'Princeton Purple'
Buddleja davidii 'Pyrkeep' = Purple Emperor
Buddleja davidii 'SMBDPL' = Merry Magic Purple
Buddleja Lo & Behold 'Purple Haze'
Buff-throated purpletuft
Burn (Deep Purple album)
Captain Underpants and the Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People
Cherokee purple
Classic Albums: Deep Purple The Making of Machine Head
Coast purple tip
Code Purple
Crash Bandicoot Purple: Ripto's Rampage and Spyro Orange: The Cortex Conspiracy
Dark purple
DEA Purple Heart Award
Deepest Purple: The Very Best of Deep Purple
Deep Purple
Deep Purple (album)
Deep Purple discography
Deep Purple in Concert
Deep Purple in Rock
Deep Purple Tribute
Donald Purple Hart
Dusky purpletuft
El Nio/More Purple than Black
Evansville Purple Aces
Evansville Purple Aces men's soccer
Exercise Purple Storm
Exercise Purple Warrior
Flaming Guns of the Purple Sage
Garden of the Purple Dragon
Gentleman Usher of the Purple Rod
Great purple hairstreak
Han purple and Han blue
Hercules's Dog Discovers Purple Dye
Infinite (Deep Purple album)
Jeremiah Peabody's Polyunsaturated Quick-Dissolving Fast-Acting Pleasant-Tasting Green and Purple Pills
King Biscuit Flower Hour Presents: Deep Purple in Concert
Law Enforcement Purple Heart
Line of purples
List of Deep Purple members
Lithium molybdenum purple bronze
Live (New Riders of the Purple Sage album)
Look Blue Go Purple
Made in Japan (Deep Purple album)
Mega Purple
Metacresol purple
METRORail Purple Line
Military Order of the Purple Heart
Mrs Pankhurst's Purple Feather
Ms. Purple
National Purple Heart Hall of Honor
Neoregelia 'Purple Pleasure'
Neoregelia 'Purple Princess'
New Riders of the Purple Sage
Niagara Purple Eagles
Niagara Purple Eagles men's soccer
Pan-Purple Coalition
Phoenix Rising (Deep Purple album)
Powerhouse (Deep Purple album)
Purple
Purple amaranth
Purple and Brown
Purple-backed fairywren
Purple-backed sunbeam
Purple-backed thornbill
Purple bacteria
Purple Bamboo Park
Purple-banded sunbird
Purple bankclimber
Purple-bearded bee-eater
Purplebeck
Purple-bellied lory
Purple Belt
Purple-bibbed whitetip
Purple Book
Purple-breasted cotinga
Purple-breasted sunbird
Purplebricks
Purplebricks Canada
Purple Butterfly
Purple Cane, Nebraska
Purple-capped fruit dove
Purple-chested hummingbird
Purple chimaera
Purple chip
Purple chokeberry
Purple City Productions
Purple Cloud Temple
Purple cochoa
Purple-collared woodstar
Purple.com
Purple (company)
Purple corn
Purple Corridor
Purple Cow
Purple Cow: Transform Your Business by Being Remarkable
Purple Crayon
Purple-crested turaco
Purple-crowned fairy
Purple-crowned fairywren
Purple-crowned lorikeet
Purple-crowned plovercrest
Purple Crush
Purple Day
Purple (disambiguation)
Purple Disco Machine
Purple Dragon
Purple Drank (album)
Purple eagle ray
Purple Earth hypothesis
Purple-edged copper
Purple (EP)
Purple Eyes in the Dark
Purple-faced langur
Purple finch
Purple Forbidden enclosure
Purple fringing
Purple frog
Purple gallinule
Purple Gang
Purple-gaped honeyeater
Purple giant hyssop
Purple glove syndrome
Purple (government)
Purple grenadier
Purple gromwell
Purple hairstreak
Purple Haze
Purple Haze (disambiguation)
Purple-headed starling
Purple Heart
Purple Heart (disambiguation)
Purple Hearts (British band)
Purple Heart Trail
Purple heron
Purple Hibiscus
Purple honeycreeper
Purple House (Alice Springs)
Purple indigobird
Purple-K
Purple King
Purple Kiss
Purple labeo
Purple Line
Purple Line (Bangkok)
Purple Line (ceasefire line)
Purple Line (CTA)
Purple Line (Dubai Metro)
Purple-lined wrasse
Purple Line Extension
Purple Line (Maryland)
Purple Line (Namma Metro)
Purple Line (Pune Metro)
Purple Line (song)
Purple (magazine)
Purple Man
Purple Mark
Purple martin
Purple mbuna
Purple milkvetch
Purple milkweed
Purple monkeyflower
Purple Moon
Purple moor grass and rush pastures
Purple Mountain
Purple Mountain (Kerry)
Purple Mountain (Nanjing)
Purple Mountain Observatory
Purple Mountains
Purple Mountains (album)
Purplemouth moray eel
Purple Music Switzerland
Purple Naked Ladies
Purple-naped lory
Purple-naped sunbird
Purple-necked rock-wallaby
Purple needletail
Purple Noon
Purple of Cassius
Purple Onion
Purple Onion (album)
Purple on Time
Purple Osaka mustard
Purple parchment
Purple People
Purple Pilgrims
Purple Pills
Purple Playhouse
Purple (Pop Evil song)
Purple prose
Purple Pyramid Records
Purple quail-dove
Purple Radio (London)
Purple Rain
Purple Rain (album)
Purple Rain (cocktail)
Purple Rain (film)
Purple Rain protest
Purple raspberry
Purple-red earth snake
Purple Reign
Purple Reign in Blood
Purple Reign (show)
Purple Ribbon All-Stars
Purple Ribbon Records
Purple roller
Purple Rose Theatre Company
Purple ruffles basil
Purple-rumped sunbird
Purple Sage, Wyoming
Purple sandpiper
Purple Saturn Day
Purple Sea
Purple shore crab
Purple-shot copper
Purple soft coral
Purple Songs Can Fly
Purple spaghetti-eel
Purple Spirit Singers
Purple Springs
Purple squirrel
Purple starling
Purple (Stone Temple Pilots album)
Purple Storm
Purple Storm (film)
Purple sulfur bacteria
Purple sunbird
Purple Sunset
Purple swamphen
Purple sweet potato color
Purple sweet potato haupia pie
Purple-tailed imperial pigeon
Purple Tape
Purple (technology company)
Purple thorn
Purple-throated carib
Purple-throated cotinga
Purple-throated cuckooshrike
Purple-throated euphonia
Purple-throated fruitcrow
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