Color Like Orange Quotes & Sayings

Sin defies God, utterly corrupts each individual, corrodes all social relationships, and issues in death. — D. A. Carson

I try to only eat animals that are vegan. I'm probably the opposite of a vegan. — Jim Gaffigan

I always say it took me 10 minutes to write 'Cars,' but if I am honest it could have been even less than that - and it has been a really successful song over the years. It is still massively used, in advertising, in films, and people do cover versions of it a lot. — Gary Numan

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

From space the little world looked like nothing much - perhaps a pitted and decaying pumpkin, dull orange-black in color, with a handful of tiny orbiting craft floating around it like fruit flies. Here and there amber lights shone out of craters in the surface. What seemed to be scores of deformed silver minnows nibbling the pumpkin rind - together with numbers of smaller noshmates - were actually huge transactinide carriers and lesser starships, either taking on fuel or docked nose-to-ground while their crews rested and recreated inside the not so heavenly body.

I have been told that the original Phlegethon of Greek mythology was a fiery river in Hades. Sheltok Concern owned a dozen or so similar way stations with brimstony names - Gehenna, Styx, Sheol, Tophet, Avernus, Niflheim, and the like - that served vessels bound to or fro the terrible R-class worlds where ultraheavy elements are mined. — Julian May

Shadows stretched from one side of the street to the other, reaching up the walls like fingers as the street lamps came on. In the north, a bank of dark clouds was building above the ridge of mountains, the tops of Buchanan and Crandell already fading into misty half-light. The last pigmented bands of sunset gilded the sides of buildings in orange light, but the rattle of wind against the panes of glass brought with it a promise of rain.
Autumn was coming, but no one save Hunter Slate seemed to notice the change. — Danika Stone

If you were a butterfly, what color would you bleed?" I ask.
He looks at me like I just asked him to pluck his eyeballs out. Then his face softens a bit.
"Blue," he answers. "And you, Ms. Branson?"
I think about my own question for a moment. I don't want to be typical and say my favorite color like he did.
"Orange," I say.
He studies my face. "Why orange?"
"Because blue burns orange," I say. "I figure no two colors could ever be closer than those igniting a flame. — Nikki Godwin

I just want to make sure that he treats you right! I can't let my little girl get hurt!"
" ... I can't even tell if you're joking or not. — August Westman

Autumn comes
like a buyer of cloth,
her long fingers
touching,
turning orange,
yellow, brown.

taking what she wants,
stretching
the bone taut air.

Her skin crackles beneath
our feet.

I didn't think anyone wanted me,

bruises pulled
like a sweater around
my neck.

We talk
in the pore tightening air,
branches bare,
about the girl buried in the chill
of prewinter.

We show each other
our mutilated children
in the guise of women
as autumn plucks
at our lips.

Each color,
blue, black, ochre
popping like kisses
on the rib lined flesh,
the puberty soft things.

And we muse
how women
keep bruises
hidden
beneath dead
leaves. — Janice Mirikitani

Oh Paris
From red to green all the yellow dies away
Paris Vancouver Hyeres Maintenon New York and the Antilles
The window opens like an orange
The beautiful fruit of light
("Windows") — Guillaume Apollinaire

Today he wore a burnt-orange shirt, black pants, and a tie that looked like a street fight at the south end of the color wheel. — Kathy Reichs

Everyone was pointing upward at the sky, which was turning into a symphony of color. First, orange streaks appeared in the blue, like an oboe joining a flute, turning a solo into a duet. That harmony built into a crescendo of colors as yellow and then pink added their voices to the chorus. The sky darkened, throwing the array of colors into even sharper relief. The word sunset couldn't possibly contain the meaning of the beauty above them, and for the millionth time since they'd landed, Wells found that the words they'd been taught to describe Earth paled in comparison to the real thing. — Kass Morgan

The sky was a ragged blaze of red and pink and orange, and its double trembled on the surface of the pond like color spilled from a paintbox. — Natalie Babbitt

Well, trust me," I said. "I'm more intense than I look. I'm intense like a lion is orange."
"So, like ... medium intense? Since a lion is kind of a tannish color?"
"No, they're orange." I frowned. "Aren't they? I've never actually seen one."
"I think tigers are the orange ones," Mizzy said. "But they're still only half orange, since they have black stripes. Maybe you should be intense like an orange is orange."
"Too obvious," I said. "I'm intense like a lion is tannish." Did that work? Didn't exactly slip off the tongue. — Brandon Sanderson

During a color consultation, I like to reference food as a visual. Hot fudge and orange marmalade paint a clearer picture and helps prevent end results that leave you feeling unsatisfied. — Tabatha Coffey

Naomi looks at me, her orange-brown eyes rimmed in dark shadow flecked with silver sparkles. All of that darkness around the pop of color in her irises makes them seem huge, like two sunsets floating in a night sky. I smirk again. There I go getting all poetic; good for me. — C.M. Stunich

You ought to see it when it blooms, all dark red flowers from horizon to horizon, like a see of blood. Come the dry season, and the world turns the color of old bronze. And this is only hranna, child. There are hundred kinds of grass out there, grasses as yellow as lemon and as dark as indigo, blue grasses and orange grasses and grasses as rainbows. — George R R Martin

These too are of a burning color
not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies. — John Steinbeck

There is no reason why good cannot triumph as often as evil. The triumph of anything is a matter of organization. If there are such things as angels, I hope that they are organized along the lines of the Mafia. — Kurt Vonnegut

It was like trying to break up with the color orange, or Wednesday, or silent e. It was the most passionate and tumultuous relationship I'd ever known. — Rob Sheffield

Pumpkins. That's what we resemble
pumpkins, in our orange graduation robes.
'This color makes me look so fat,'
Angie says, straightening her cap.
'Why can't our school have decent colors?'
'You're not fat,' Michael says, dressed in shirt and tie.
You're glowing. Like a nuclear pumpkin.
Very attractive, really. — Kelly Bingham

I've seen you up close, like this. I remember your eyes. They're the color of the sea -- just inside a coral reef and your freckles are like the stones of a volcanic island scattered along the sand. Your hair is like the sun setting over the water, shooting out orange rays in all directions — Melissa Turner Lee

The first time I met Crenshaw was about three years ago, right after first grade ended. It was early evening, and my family and I had parked at a rest stop off a highway. I was lying on the grass near a picnic table, gazing up at the stars blinking to life. I heard a noise, a wheels-on-gravel skateboard sound. I sat up on my elbows. Sure enough, a skater on a board was threading his way through the parking lot. I could see right away that he was an unusual guy. He was a black and white kitten. A big one, taller than me. His eyes were the sparkly color of morning grass. He was wearing a black and orange San Francisco Giants baseball cap. He hopped off his board and headed my way. He was standing on two legs just like a human. "Meow," he said. "Meow," I said back, because it seemed polite. — Katherine Applegate

Success. I turned back to my sandwich, only to find that it wasn't there anymore. Maybe because it had been hijacked.
"Give me that!" I told the vamp, who was holding it firmly against his chest, a determined look on his face.
"What ees zat?" he demanded, eyeing my prize.
"Cheese." I held it up.
"Zat ees not cheese."
"How do you know?"
"Eet is orange."
"A lot of cheese is orange."
"Non! No cheese ees that color. Cheese comes from zee milk. Zee milk, eet ees white. When 'ave you seen milk that looks like zat?"
I held up the square of little slices and pointed at the bold-faced label. "Processed American Cheese."
He snatched the package, without letting go of his hostage. And eyed it warily. "Eet says 'cheese food.'" He looked up, obviously perplexed. "What ees thees? Zee cheese, it does not eat. — Karen Chance

What does this beauty or than music mean to you? You cannot see the waves rolling up the beach or hear their roar. What do they mean to you?' In the most evident sense they mean everything. I cannot fathom or define their meaning any more than I can fathom or define love or religion or goodness. — Helen Keller

The dove, as it flies in the sun, seems simply to sparkle like silver, but only one who has been able to wait at length to discover its hidden face will see its true gold or, rather, the color of a shining orange. — Umberto Eco

In time the glowing, cratered moon began its seeming rise from the sea, casting a prism of light across the slowly darkening water, splitting itself into a thousand different parts, each more beautiful than the last. At exactly the same moment, the sun was meeting the horizon in the opposite direction, turning the sky red and orange and yellow, as if heaven above had suddenly opened its gates and let all its beauty escape its holy confines. The ocean turned golden silver as the shifting colors reflected off it, waters rippling and sparkling with the changing light, the vision glorious, almost like the beginning of time. The sun continued to lower itself, casting its glow as far as the eye could see, before finally, slowly, vanishing beneath the waves. The moon continued its slow drift upward, shimmering as it turned a thousand different shades of yellow, each paler than the last, before finally becoming the color of the stars. — Nicholas Sparks

When life is too easy for us, we must beware or we may not be ready to meet the blows which sooner or later come to everyone, rich or poor. — Eleanor Roosevelt

Children go with whatever makes them feel good - like if that's the color green or orange, they do that with their clothes. As I've grown older, everything reversed. My music, my personality - onstage those things became my colors. — Janelle Monae