Blue Note Quotes & Sayings

No matter how many times you have slipped or fallen, rise up ... You are stronger than you realize. — Dieter F. Uchtdorf

We were constantly appealing for funds from readers when I edited 'The Black Dwarf' in 1968-69. — Tariq Ali

There is no end to relationship. There may be the end of a particular relationship, but relationship can never end; to be is to be related. — Jiddu Krishnamurti

I have a huge rib cage, which is why I can hold a note out until I'm blue in the face ... because I have such a big lung capacity. — Jessica Simpson

S if lack of privilege were a competition that he was still determined to win, even in the face of another's clear and inarguable triumph. — Hanya Yanagihara

His blue-and-white striped robe ballooning out in the wind, he rode directly to me and fell off the donkey. Gasping theatrically, he handed me a note and then collapsed face down in the sand. Since the donkey had been doing all the work, I ignored this demonstration. While John bent over the fallen man with expressions of concern I opened the note. — Elizabeth Peters

He was struck by what a glorious and fearless animal Blue Sargent was, and he made a mental note to tell her that very thing, if she didn't drown getting whatever the second thing was. — Maggie Stiefvater

Little Sister Rose-Marie,
Will thy feet as willing-light
Run through Paradise, I wonder,
As they run the blue skies under,
Willing feet, so airy-light?
Little Sister Rose-Marie
Will thy voice as bird-note clear
Lift and ripple over Heaven
As its mortal sound is given,
Swift bird-voice, so young and clear?
How God will be glad of thee,
Little Sister Rose-Marie! — Adelaide Crapsey

He knew Kandinsky by heart: every trickle of red, slash of black ink, and hemorrhage of gold. Each dissonant note in its allegro, the harmony in its adagio, and its deep blue intermezzo, formed a symphony he had memorized in his body. He couldn't say if Fragment 2 symbolized the Deluge, the Last Judgment, or the Resurrection. But it had become his religion, offering both redemption and pain.. — Kelly Oliver

Seth rolled his eyes. "Because you're such a ladies man."
"I can be. I just have standards, is all. I'm very selective about who I choose to spend time with, whereas you'll fuck anything that moves. And several things that don't. — Elle Parker

I know the girl is right because the snake is in me, knotted around my intestines, hanging off my ribs, snuggled like a lover around my black heart. "I love you," I said, addressing the snake, Madison, Bell, Kevin, Pig, my mother, my past lives and the new lover speeding toward me at this very moment. I wondered if it mattered whether you loved one person or another. Weren't lovers interchangeable when you thought back about them? Maybe that was true in the future too. What I really loved was the note. I always loved odd things: the blue curacao bottle, the wet asphalt, my own insipid fear. — Darcey Steinke

I want to stop time, freeze myself at this level and never let go of her. — Daniel Keyes

They exchanged notes, like children. My grandfather made his out of newspaper clippings and dropped them in her woven baskets, into which he knew only she would dare stick a hand. Meet me under the wooden bridge and I will show you things you have never, ever seen. The "M" was taken from the army that would take his mother's life: GERMAN FRONT ADVANCES ON SOVIET BORDER; the "eet" from their approaching warships: NAZI FLEET DEFEATS FRENCH AT LESACS; the "me" from the peninsula they were blue-eyeing: GERMANS SURROUND CRIMEA; the "und" from too little, too late: AMERICAN WAR FUNDS REACH ENGLAND; the "er" from the dog of dogs: HITLER RENDERS NONAGGRESSION PACT INOPERATIVE ... and so on, and so on, each note a collage of love that could never be, and a war that could — Jonathan Safran Foer

Shea took her time braiding her hair, fussing over her blue jeans, adjusting her ribbed cotton shirt, allowing her mind time to cope with the new knowledge. It was frightening yet fascinating. She wished she had observed it in someone other than herself. It was hard to accept it clinically when it was her own body she was studying.
Such a nice body.
She nearly dropped her brush. Will you stop! Just the low velvet touch of his voice sent heat curling through her body. It was sinful and unfair to have such a voice.
I did not think you would ever speak with me as a lifemate would. I waited long for that impatient comment. There was a teasing note now. — Christine Feehan

No sooner is the exploitation of the labourer by the manufacturer, so far, at an end, that he receives his wages in cash, than he is set upon by the other portions of the bourgeoisie, the landlord, the shopkeeper, the pawnbroker, etc. — Karl Marx

If you're one of the fortunate few on this Earth with a pass to enter the gates of Augusta National on Masters Sunday, you don't leave early. You just don't. If it's a Masters Sunday when Tiger Woods is near the top of the leader board, you really don't leave early. — Willie Geist

He was a scholar, so goddamned intelligent he couldn't see the writing on the wall. He wanted answers to life's tragedies when their very unfair nature meant they had none. — Skye Warren

Just like any civilized person, you've spent practically your whole life torturing an innocent wild creature. Starved it, then force-fed it, cut it, cursed it, driven it to exhaustion. Imprisoned it with other creatures who tormented it."
"What?" Diana shakes her head in miserable confusion. "I don't
even kill spiders! I never wanted to hurt anything."
"The innocent wild creature to which I refer, my darling, is you. — Martha N. Beck

It was a card, stamped with a mermaid in the center, colored and adorned with glittery starfish stickers and hand-drawn reeds in green and yellow. Inside, edged along the bottom in blue-green waves and encircled with a heart, he'd written a note:
Dear Elyse,
Thank you for being my new friend.
And liking mermaids.
And marrying my brother.
Your new friend,
Sebastian Kane
P.S. Are you a mermaid? Yes or No. — Sarah Ockler

The Blue album, there's hardly a dishonest note in the vocals. At that period of my life, I had no personal defenses. I felt like a cellophane wrapper on a pack of cigarettes. I felt like I had absolutely no secrets from the world and I couldn't pretend in my life to be strong. Or to be happy. But the advantage of it in the music was that there were no defenses there, either. — Joni Mitchell

That first winter, when it was time for her friends to leave, the girl ventured out into the show to say goodbye, and the stunning raven-haired Squaller handed her another gift.
"A blue kefta," said the math teacher, shaking her head. "What would she do with that?"
"Maybe she knew a Grisha who died," replied the cook, taking note of the tears that filled the girl's eyes. They did not see the note that read, You will always be one of us. — Leigh Bardugo

The whole passage was underlined in bleeding, water-soaked black ink. But there was another ink, this one a crisp blue, post-flood, and an arrow led from "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" to a margin note written in her loop-heavy cursive: Straight & Fast. — John Green

Magnus thought once again of the blue-eyed man standing in his parlor. Then he lit a match and burned the note. — Cassandra Clare

The pure, absolute quality and nature of each note in itself are only appreciated by the strummer. For some notes have all the sea in them, and some cathedral bells; others a woodland joyance and a smell of greenery; in some fauns dance to the merry reed, and even the grave centaurs peep out from their caves. Some bring moonlight, and some the deep crimson of a rose's heart; some are blue, some red, and others will tell of an army with silken standards and march-music. And throughout all the sequence of suggestion, up above the little white men leap and peep, and strive against the imprisoning wires; and all the big rosewood box hums as it were full of hiving bees. — Kenneth Grahame

There ain't no female equivalent of blue balls. Nothin' even close. It's a uniquely masculine condition, and one I think I'm going to suffer with for the next couple of hours."
"B-but you don't have to-"
He couldn't help a chuckle at the note of frantic frustration in her voice. "Darlin', if you weren't three sheets to the wind, I promise I'd already have you on your back in the bed of this truck."
She glanced over her shoulder. "It doesn't look very comfortable."
"I assure you comfort would be the furthest thing from your mind."
And based on the tightness of his jeans, it sure as hell was the furthest thing from his. — Victoria Vane

A banquet is probably the most fatiguing thing in the world except ditch digging. — Mark Twain

Sure enough, at the bottom of the box lay a note, crisply folded and sealed with blue wax. The insignia, though, was not Lord John's customary smiling half-moon-and-stars, but an unfamiliar crest, showing a fish with a ring in its mouth. Jamie glanced at this, frowning, then broke the seal and opened the note. — Diana Gabaldon

At home I have a blue piano.
But I can't play a note.
It's been in the shadow of the cellar door
Ever since the world went rotten.
Four starry hands play harmonies,
The Woman in the Moon sang in her boat.
Now only rats dance to the clanks.
The keyboard is in bits.
I wept for what is blue. Is dead.
Sweet angels, I have eaten
Such bitter bread. Push open
The door of heaven. For me, for now-
Although I am still alive-
Although it is not allowed — Else Lasker-Schuler

When she started back she saw a blue jay perched atop the feeder. She stopped dead and held her breath. It stood large and polished and looked royally remote from the other birds busy feeding and she could nearly believe she'd never seen a jay before. It stood enormous, looking in at her, seeing whatever it saw, and she wanted to tell Rey to look up. She watched it, black-barred across the wings and tail, and she thought she'd somehow only now learned how to look. She'd never seen a thing so clearly and it was not simply because the jay was posted where it was, close enough for her to note the details of cresting and color. There was also the clean shock of its appearance among the smaller brownish birds, its mineral blue and muted blue and broad dark neckband. But if Rey looked up, the bird would fly. — Don DeLillo

Dearest Annie, Roses are red. Violets are blue. I'm using my hand But I'm thinking of you. - Ronan P.S. Just to clarify, I'm using my hand to write this note ... get your mind out of the gutter. — L. H. Cosway

The sky was of the deepest blue, with a few white, fleecy clouds drifting lazily across it, and the air was filled with the low drone of insects or with a sudden sharper note as bee or bluefly shot past with its quivering, long-drawn hum, like an insect tuning-fork. — Arthur Conan Doyle

Around 1980, I'd been writing short stories, all to no success; so I wrote a fan letter to Stephen King and asked "How long should it take an aspiring writer to either get published or know when to give up?" Lo and behold, King wrote back to me in long hand with blue flair pen on 14-inch paper, purveying a very nice, helpful note; in it he said my letter proved a "command of the language," that I should never give up, and that it would take years to succeed, not months. "That's cold comfort but it's the truth." This was the ultimate encouragement for a young writer to be who didn't know shit about the market. I took Mr. King's advice and actually sold my first novel little more than a year later. I'll always be copiously grateful for this advice, and it's the same advice I give aspiring writers now (along with the story of King's reply!). — Edward Lee

There has to be a way. I didn't die in that cave, and Dylan didn't die when he was two, and Teeth didn't die in the shrimp boat, because there is always a way. And I'm going to find it. — Hannah Moskowitz

He's a funny one," said Ida. "Here's how he sound." She pursed her lips and, expertly, imitated the red-winged blackbird's call: not the liquid piping of the wood thrush, which dipped down into the dry tchh tchh tchh of the cricket's birr and up again in delerious, sobbing trills; not the clear, three-note whistle of the chickadee or even the blue jay's rough cry, which was like a rusty gate creaking. This was an abrupt, whirring, unfamiliar cry, a scream of warning -congeree!- which choked itself off on a subdued, fluting note. — Donna Tartt

Her close friends have gathered.
Lord, ain't it a shame
Grieving together
Sharing the blame.
But when she was dying
Lord, we let her down.
There's no use cryin'
It can't help her now.

The party's all over
Drink up and go home.
It's too late to love her
And leave her alone.

Just say she was someone
Lord, so far from home
Whose life was so lonesome
She died all alone
Who dreamed pretty dreams
That never came true
Lord, why was she born
So black and blue?
Oh, why was she born
So black and blue?

Epitaph (Black And Blue)
Written by: Kris Kristofferson
Note: "Epitaph" is about Janis Joplin. — Kris Kristofferson

Partly it was a sort of hymn to the wisdom and majesty of Big Brother, but still more it was an act of self-hypnosis, a deliberate drowning of consciousness by means of rhythmic noise. — George Orwell

When you're dying, the unicorn up in heaven gets a note from an angel telling her there's a person who's going to need a ride up soon. The unicorn finds out what the person likes. Favorite foods and books, colors and activities, pets and games. She gets a room ready for him, or her, near people who she knows they'll enjoy being with, maybe other friends and family who have died before.
When the unicorn is done, she jumps off of heaven's perch, flies through the blue sky, around the clouds, over any rainbows, and down to the person. She's invisible to everyone. She patiently waits. When the person dies, she gathers them up on her back, using her hooves and horn. All of a sudden, they sit up straight and smile, they laugh, because they're on top of a unicorn and alive again. They hold on tight to her golden reins and the unicorn takes them to their new home, where they're happy. — Cathy Lamb

You hear lots of notes, don't you? Some have a major sound. Some have a minor sound. But there's not one blue note among all these black and white keys. The real blues, the soul of the sound, comes from the spaces in-between. — David Mutti Clark