Do Orange Quotes & Sayings

Finn, do you see the lias - whatever, the orange-haired girl?" Razo Gestured ahead. "Do you think she's pretty?"
Finn glanced Dasha's way, then returned his attention ot his horse. "She's all right."
"Really? Just all right?"
Finn shrugged.
Razo rolled his eyes. "What am I saying? He doesn't think any girl is pretty but Enna."
"Are there any girls but Enna?" Finn called back.
"There'd better be. — Shannon Hale

A shadow passes over her face, but she shakes it off fast as she leans forward, her bright-blue hair swinging over her shoulder and clashing with her pumpkin-orange shirt. "You think you're the only one who wants to bring back someone they love? Everyone loses someone. It's inevitable. Everyone thinks they're willing to give up everything to get that person back. There aren't many who are actually capable of it."
My breath catches in my throat as my brain processes her words. Nowhere in that speech did she say what I wanted was impossible. She just said most people aren't willing to make the necessary sacrifice.
"I'll do it. Anything. Whatever it takes. — Erica Cameron

The majority of (painters), because they aren't colorists, do not see yellow, orange or sulphur in the South (of France) and they call a painter mad if he sees with eyes other than theirs — Vincent Van Gogh

I was born in Orange, California and I grew up in Huntington Beach. I started skateboarding when I was five and continued to do so off and on over the years. — Jason Lee

Do not adjust your sandals while passing through a melon-field, nor yet arrange your hat beneath an orange-tree. — Ernest Bramah

My main ambition as a gardener is to water my orange trees with gin, then all I have to do is squeeze the juice into a glass. — W.C. Fields

A pleasantly situated hotel close to the sea, and chalets by the water's edge where one breakfasted. Clientele well-to-do, and although I count myself no snob I cannot abide paper bags and orange peel. ("Not After Midnight") — Daphne Du Maurier

Well, also ask yourself this: do you know what Steve Miller looks like? No, you don't. Nobody does. He could be standing right next to you on the subway platform, playing "Jungle Love" on a custom Stratocaster with his name inlaid on the fretboard in mother-of-pearl, and you still wouldn't know who he is. Because as far as you or anybody else knows, Steve Miller is a big blue space-horse with a mane made out of orange space-flames. — Sterling Archer

I speak softly, looking at her mouth as I do. "Do you remember the orange grove, Olivia? — Tarryn Fisher

After a while I understood that, talking this way, everything dissolves: justice, pine, hair, woman, you and I. There was a woman I made love to and I remembered how, holding her small shoulders in my hands sometimes, I felt a violent wonder at her presence like a thirst for salt, for my childhood river with its island willows, silly music from the pleasure boat, muddy places where we caught the little orange-silver fish called pumpkinseed. It hardly had to do with her. Longing, we say, because desire is full of endless distances. — Robert Hass

The solitude was intoxicating. On my first night there I lay on my back on the sticky carpet for hours, in the murky orange pool of city glow coming through the window, smelling heady curry spices spiraling across the corridor and listening to two guys outside yelling at each other in Russian and someone practicing stormy flamboyant violin somewhere, and slowly realizing that there was not a single person in the world who could see me or ask me what I was doing or tell me to do anything else, and I felt as if at any moment the bedsit might detach itself from the buildings like a luminous soap bubble and drift off into the night, bobbing gently above the rooftops and the river and the stars. — Tana French

Would it not be better if they spent more money on wholesome things like oranges and wholemeal bread or if they even, like the writer of the letter to the New Statesman, saved on fuel and ate their carrots raw? Yes, it would, but the point is that no ordinary human being is ever going to do such a thing. The ordinary human being would sooner starve than live on brown bread and raw carrots. And the peculiar evil is this, that the less money you have, the less inclined you feel to spend it on wholesome food. A millionaire may enjoy breakfasting off orange juice and Ryvita biscuits; an unemployed man doesn't. Here the tendency of which I spoke at the end of the last chapter comes into play. When you are unemployed, which is to say when you are underfed, harassed, bored, and miserable, you don't want to eat dull wholesome food. You want something a little bit 'tasty'. There is always some cheaply pleasant thing to tempt you. — George Orwell

Sometimes it just means flying from Bogota to New York via Amsterdam to have a day with your kids. When we spend time with them, I think we do our utmost best to be really with them - on vacations or during weekends or even at breakfast in the morning. — Willem-Alexander, Prince Of Orange

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

Do blood clots get stuck in your teeth? What if someone's anemic; are you hungry again an hour later? Has anyone ever bitten you? If you run out of blood, do you shrivel up like a really old orange? — Katie MacAlister

He started skipping, but then caught himself and returned to deliberately pacing out his steps with his sheathed sword. People might ignore a tiny Japanese man in an orange porkpie hat and socks, with a sword, but if you went around expressing unrestrained joy, they would have you in a straightjacket before you could belt out a verse of Zippity Do-Dah. — Christopher Moore

State Road 60 is one of those great old Florida drives. From Tampa on the west coast to Vero Beach on the east, rolling through Mulberry and Bartow and Yeehaw Junction. Phosphate mines and orange groves and cows loitering near water holes in vast open flats dotted with sabal palms, stretching for miles, making the sky big. Here and there were the kind of occasional, isolated farmhouses that made people subconsciously think: Do they get Internet? In the middle of one overgrown field stood a single concrete wall, several stories high, covered with grime and mildew, the ancient ruins of a drive-in theater. The top of the wall was the last thing to catch a warm glow from the setting sun. — Tim Dorsey

You done with work?
Yep, at home waiting for you.
Now that's a nice visual ...
Prepare yourself, I'm taking bread out of the oven.
Don't tease me woman ... zucchini?
Cranberry orange. Mmmm ...
No woman has ever done breakfast bread foreplay the way you do.
Ha! When you coming?
Can't. Drive. Straight.
Can we have one conversation when you're not twelve?
Sorry, I'll be there in 30
Perfect, that will give me time to frost my buns.
Pardon me?
Oh, didn't I tell you? I also made cinnamon rolls.
Be there in 25. — Alice Clayton

No blue without yellow and without orange, and if you do blue, then do yellow and orange as well, surely. — Vincent Van Gogh

When the light turns green, you go. When the light turns red, you stop. But what do you do when the light turns blue with orange and lavender spots? — Shel Silverstein

The orange turns to dull bronze light and continues to show what it has shown all day long, but now it seems to show it without enthusiasm. Across those dry hills, within those little houses in the distance are people who've been there all day long, going about the business of the day, who now find nothing unusual or different in this strange darkening landscape, as we do. If we were to come upon them early in the day they might be curious about us and what we're here for. but now in the evening they'd just resent our presence. The workday is over. It's time for supper and family and relaxation and turning inward at home. We ride unnoticed down this empty highway through this strange country I've never seen before, and now a heavy feeling of isolation and loneliness becomes dominant and my spirits wane with the sun. — Robert M. Pirsig

When she came back minutes later with a great, fat, skinned rabbit, Po had built a fire. The flames cast orange light on the horses and on himself. "It was the least I could do," Po said, drily, "and I see you've already skinned the hare. I'm beginning to think I won't have much responsibility as we travel through the forest together."
"Does it other you? You're welcome to do the hunting yourself. Perhaps I can stay by the fire and mend your socks, and scream if I hear strange noises. — Kristin Cashore

Well, every girl with half a brain knows there's only one thing to do when you break up with your man - "
"No, we didn't break up - " Luce said, at the exact same time as Shelby said:
"Change your hair."
"Change my hair?"
"Fresh start," Shelby said. "I've dyed mine orange, chopped it off. Hell, once I even shaved it after this jerk really broke my heart. — Lauren Kate

Early morning, the orange sun is slowly rising, shining forth in empty luminous clarity. The mind and the sky are one, the sun is rising in the vast space of primordial awareness, and there is just this. Yasutani Roshi once said, speaking of satori, that it was the most precious realization in the world, because all the great philosophers had tried to understand ultimate reality but had failed to do so, yet with satori or awakening all of your deepest questions are finally answered: it's just this. — Ken Wilber

Slow down, and enjoy that stuff if it's possible. Kathy doesn't care what time I leave, only what time I clock out, and she knows sometimes I sleep here when I'm locked out, or have friends over. Everything's cool as long as I clock out on time."
She swallowed that big bite she'd rammed in, and said, "Okay. Jeez, I'm so hungry, this stuff is good."
Ketchup for your fries, miss? I can recommend it - it's my main source of vitamin C."
She smiled. "Sure. What does Kathy do if you clock out late?"
Well, a couple times I've fallen asleep and done it, and gotten off with a warning. Eventually, though, if I made a habit of it, I'd disappear in the middle of the night, and never be seen again, and the only clues the police would have would be a few orange hairs and some enormous shoe prints. But for a few weeks afterward, all over the country, the Quarter Pounders would taste just a little bit more like Lightsburg, Ohio. — John Barnes

It was all a mistake," he pleaded, standing out of his ship, his wife slumped behind him in the deeps of the hold, like a dead woman. "I came to Mars like any honest enterprising businessman. I took some surplus material from a rocket that crashed and I built me the finest little stand you ever saw right there on that land by the crossroads - you know where it is. You've got to admit it's a good job of building." Sam laughed, staring around. "And that Martian - I know he was a friend of yours - came. His death was an accident, I assure you. All I wanted to do was have a hot-dog stand, the only one on Mars, the first and most important one. You understand how it is? I was going to serve the best darned hot dogs there, with chili and onions and orange juice." The — Ray Bradbury

This is where I go, when I go:
It's a room with no windows and no doors, and walls that are thin enough for me to see and hear everything but too thick to break through.
I'm there, but I'm not there.
I am pounding to be let out, but nobody can hear me.
This is where I go, when I go:
To a country where everyone's face looks different from mine, and the language is the act of not speaking, and noise is everywhere in the air we breathe. I am doing what the Romans do in Rome; I am trying to communicate, but no one has bothered to tell me that these people cannot hear.
This is where I go, when I go:
Somewhere completely, unutterably orange.
This is where I go, when I go:
To the place where my body becomes a piano full of black keys only - the sharps and the flats, when everyone know that to play a song other people want to hear, you need some white keys.
This is why I come back:
To find those white keys. — Jodi Picoult

Simon, would you still care for me if you discovered I was not who I say I am?"
What do you mean?"
I mean would you still care for me, no matter what you came to know?"
What a thing to ponder. I don't know what to say."
The answer is no. He does not need to say it.
With a sigh, Simon digs at the fire with the iron poker. Bits of the charred log fall away, revealing the angry insides. they flare orange for a moment, then quiet down again. After three tries, he gives up.
I'm afraid this fire's had it."
I can see a few embers remaining. "No, I think not. If ... "
He sighs, and it says everything. — Libba Bray

I dreamed today of bone-white horses, stamping and nuzzling in the bright sunshine, and of orange poppies which swayed and danced in the spring wind.

(Do not look back.) — Neil Gaiman

Reasercher 101,
I do not long for the old, unreachable days. When I'm plugged in I can go anywhere, do and learn anything. Today, for instance, I visited a tiny library in Portugal. I learned how the Shakers weave baskets and I discovered my best friend in middle school loves blood-orange sorbet. Okay, I also learned that a certain pop star actually believes she's a fairy, an honest-to-goodness fairy from the fey people, but my point is access. Access to information. I don't even have to look out my window to see what the eather is like. I can have the weather delivered every morning to my phone. What could be better?
Sincerely,
Wife 22
Wife 22,
Getting caught in the rain?
All the best,
Researcher 101 — Melanie Gideon

Is there anything else outside of my comfort zone that you'd like me to do for you tonight?"
"Not tonight, but you could make me breakfast in the morning."
"You're pushing it ... "
"Just in case you change your mind, I would like Belgian waffles, bacon, sliced strawberries, and orange juice."
"Unless you want to eat all of those things off of my cock, it's not happening. — Whitney Gracia Williams

The first thing I do is brush my teeth - we like to start the morning with fresh breath - and put on my pajamas and meander down to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. No coffee. No caffeine. — Tamara Tunie

Grinning is something you do when you are entertained in some way, such as reading a good book or watching someone you don't care for spill orange soda all over themselves. — Lemony Snicket

Back on the Hauser regime, I start the day with his notorious "pep breakfast"
two raw eggs beaten in orange juice. Hauser describes it as a "creamy drink fit for a King's table." I do not feel the same way. This is so much worse than the raw eggs in milk that I drank for the Marilyn Monroe diet.
If pneumonia were a food, this is what it would taste like. — Rebecca Harrington

I do not think a pilgrimage is a proper pilgrimage if you are also using it as an excuse to visit your favourite aunt, or buy silk cheaply to re-sell," she murmured sombrely. "That's just business dressed up in orange robes. — Claire North

Do you think I'm queer, Rob?" I asked.
"I don't care if you're queer," Robby said. "Queer is just a word. Like orange. I know who you are. There's no one word for that. — Andrew Smith

If orange trees grew all over the country, you couldn't sell oranges. Do you understand that? So, all our decision making is based upon scarcity or the availability of resources. If we have a shortage of any kind of resource, we put all the labs to work on making substitute materials. People always worry about 'What if we run out of a certain material?', but we have enough technology today to make thousands of different substitutes. — Jacque Fresco

I was in New York doing musicals in the theater and on Broadway before 'Orange,' so people always ask, 'Are you ever going to get to sing? Does she even sing?' But people who know me know I actually do sing. — Uzo Aduba

As the cubs slept, Peggy licked their burnt-orange coats clean and watched over them diligently. The way she looked at them as they slept, you knew she would do anything to protect them. Even with only one good paw. Even if it meant she would have to sacrifice her own life to keep them safe. Witnessing that kind of unconditional love was a miracle of nature. Moments like those are what made me want to become a vet. Secretly, — Chuck Palahniuk

Rachel," I snap, "I don't care if Janelle wants to work at Hooters. I don't care if you and the rest of the world want to go spend your money on dried-out chicken and ketchup-based sauces. And least of all - less than almost anything else I can imagine - I don't care how much sex your sister is or isn't having. That's kind of the deal with the whole uptight feminazi thing - we don't care when other women want to wear stupid orange Soffe shorts with white tennis shoes and have a lot of sex, or when they want to wear habits and live in a convent, or if they want to walk around in pasties and never French kiss, so long as they're allowed to do what they want. And right now, all I want is to go to bed. Okay? — Emily Henry

What Zidane can do with a football, Maradona could do with an orange. — Michel Patini

I have your gun" I pulled the Ruger out of my bag and gave it to Ranger. He held the gun flat in his hand and looked at it. "It smells like orange blossoms."
"I washed it and sprayed it with air freshener"
"You washed it?"
"I wore rubber gloves and scrubbed it with my vegetable brush. It was.. icky"
He yanked open the driver's side door, pulled me out of the car, and kissed me. The kiss involved tongue, and a hand on my ass, and made my nipples tingle.
"I can always count on you to brighten my day" Ranger said.
Ranger drove off, and I got back into the Buick.
"That was hot," Lula said. "Imagine what he'd do if you washed his Glock
After Stephanie threw up on Rangers gun. — Janet Evanovich

The bones and shells and peels of things are where a lot of their goodness resides. It's no more or less lamb for being meat or bone; it's no more or less pea for being pea or pod. Grappa is made from the spent skins and stems and seeds of wine grapes; marmalade from the peels of oranges. The wine behind grappa is great, but there are moments when only grappa will do; the fruit of the orange is delicious, but it cannot be satisfactorily spread.
"The skins of onions, green tops from leeks, stems from herbs must all be swept directly into a pot instead of the garbage. Along with the bones from a chicken, raw or cooked, they are what it takes to make chicken stock, which you need never buy, once you decide to keep its ingredients instead of throwing them away. If you have bones from fish, it's fish stock. If there are bones from pork or lamb, you will have pork or lamb stock. — Tamar Adler

When I was at school my jography told me th' earth was shaped like a orange an' I found out before I was ten that th' whole orange doesn't belong to nobody. No one owns more than his bit of a quarter an' there's times it seems there's not enow quarters to go around. But don't you-none o' you- think as you own th' whole orange or you'll find out you're mistaken, an' you won't find it without hard knocks. What children learns from children, is that there's no sense grabbin' at th' whole orange-peel an' all. If you do you'll likely not get even th' pips, an' them's too bitter to eat. — Frances Hodgson Burnett

There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, Dim being really dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar making up rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard though dry. The Korova Milkbar was a milk-plus mesto, and you may, O my brothers, have forgotten what these mestos were like, things changing so skorry these days, and everybody very quick to forget, newspapers not being read much neither. — Anthony Burgess

The two-man crew of the patrol boat does not speak English. Rachel exploits this as best she can, while still dumping life jackets in the water. "What? I don't understand what you're saying? Do you speak English?"
They confirm in their native tongue that they obviously do not. Rachel must be putting on a theatrical display, because the small boat rocks while she talks. "I don't need these life jackets anymore," she says, in her thickest Italian accent. "The colors are all wrong for me. I mean, look at this orange. Ew, right?"
Galen rolls his eyes. I try not to giggle.
"And this green? Hideous!" she continues.
The men get more irate when she doesn't stop littering their domain. "Hey, what the ... Don't touch me! I have a foot injury, you jerk!"
Galen and I slink below the surface. "We knew that might happen," he says. — Anna Banks

Here the children have a custom. After the celebration of evil they take those vacant heads that shone once with such anguish and glee and throw them over the bridge, watching the smash, orange, as they hit below, We were standing underneath when you told it. People do that with themselves when they are finished, light scooped out. He landed here, you said, marking it with your foot.
You wouldn't do it that way, empty, you wouldn't wait, you would jump with the light still in you. — Margaret Atwood

It's not destiny, Ox. You're not bound by this. Not yet. There's a choice. There is always a choice. My wolf chose you. I chose you. And if you don't choose me, then that's your choice and I will walk out of here knowing you got to choose your own path. But I swear to god, if you choose me, I will make sure that you know the weight of your worth every day for the rest of our lives because that's what this is. I am going to be a fucking Alpha one day, and there is no one I'd rather have by my side than you. It's you, Ox. For me, it's always been you." So I said, "Okay, Joe." I looked up at him. His wolf was close to the surface. And he said, "Okay?" I said, "Okay. Okay. I don't know if I see the things you do." "I know." "And I don't know if I'll be good enough." "I know you will," he said, eyes flashing orange. "But I promised you. I said it will always be you and me." His face stuttered a bit, and he said, "You did. You promised me. You promised." I — T.J. Klune

Where do I come into all of this? Am I just some animal or dog?' And that started them off govoreeting real loud and throwing slovos at me. So I creeched louder still, creeching: 'Am I just to be like a clockwork orange? — Anthony Burgess

Captain," I said after ten steps, without breaking stride. "I do understand that this is the Genitalia Festival. But when you say genitalia, doesn't that usually mean genitals generally? Not just one kind?" For all the steps I'd taken, and as far down the corridor as I could see, the walls were hung with tiny penises. Bright green, hot pink, electric blue, and a particularly eye-searing orange. — Ann Leckie

I'd never even seen orange cheese. I mean, who decided to make that orange? And so there was something different about me that they wanted to crush. I don't think it had anything to do with my physicality, but every single day in school it was, "You're the ugliest thing I've ever seen." — Rose McGowan

When 'American Pie' happened, I was so lucky to get that opportunity and I just tried to do a good job in that genre. But the films that inspired me as a kid were, like, Malcolm McDowall in 'A Clockwork Orange.' He was my hero. — Seann William Scott

I would love to do orange and lemon trees silhouetted against the blue sea, but I cannot find them the way I want them. — Claude Monet

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave
They got quarters and I had a half.
And that orange it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park
This is peace and contentment. It's new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all my jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist. — Wendy Cope

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. "Your favorite colour ... it's green?"
"That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange."
"Orange?" He seems unconvinced.
"Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once."
"Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you."
But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces."
Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry. — Suzanne Collins

LOOKING
The world goes by, and what have I to do with it? I merely observe how the geese stretch their necks towards the orange rim of sky. I watch how light fades and children make their way home, hungry and tired. The bushes outside become ghosts while baths run and kitchen windows steam up with the cooking. This is the smell of our home, where I have a place in the wrinkled hours making beds and hugging boys awake. This is the sound of the house where I feel out lives into words, translate ragged nights and days into something whole, or try to. You may look if you wish ... The world goes by, and what have you or I to do with it, except perhaps for looking ... ? — Jay Woodman

Bert . . . had grown up with frozen concentrate mixed into pitchers of water which, although he hadn't known it at the time, had nothing to do with orange juice. Now his children drank fresh-squeezed juice as thoughtlessly as he had drunk milk as a boy. They squeezed it from the fruit they had picked off the trees in their own backyard. He could see a new set of muscles in the right forearm of his wife, Teresa, from the constant twisting of oranges on the juicer while their children held up their cups and waited for more. Orange juice was all they wanted, Bert told him. They had it every morning with their cereal, and Teresa froze it into popsicles to the children for their afternoon snacks, and in the evening he and Teresa drank it over ice with vodka or bourbon or gin. This was what no one seemed to understand - it didn't matter what you put into it, what mattered was the juice itself. "People from California forget that, because they've been spoiled," Bert said. — Ann Patchett

The park was a highly secure place for people to do drugs after dark, more secure even than homes and apartments. The police didn't make regular patrols because they were too busy answering 911 calls. Policemen were more likely to enter a user's building during the night, answering a domestic abuse call from down the hallway, than they were to make a pass through the Orange Park playground. — Jeff Hobbs

Speaking of birthdays, our firstborn [recently turned 2]. As parents sometimes fondly do, we reminisced a bit about his early days on earth-the excitement, the wonder, the fears when we brought him home. His every squeak or squawk we were sure heralded some terrible crisis; I tested the warmth of formulas from dusk to dawn, it seemed. We were so germ-conscious my wife even sterilized the skin of the oranges before squeezing them. How firstborns ever survive their parents' attentions is beyond me. However, they do, and he did, and, in spite of our efforts, he turned out to be quite a good guy. — Malcolm Forbes

Just Walking Around"

What name do I have for you?
Certainly there is no name for you
In the sense that the stars have names
That somehow fit them. Just walking around,
An object of curiosity to some,
But you are too preoccupied
By the secret smudge in the back of your soul
To say much and wander around,
Smiling to yourself and others.
It gets to be kind of lonely
But at the same time off-putting.
Counterproductive, as you realize once again
That the longest way is the most efficient way,
The one that looped among islands, and
You always seemed to be traveling in a circle.
And now that the end is near
The segments of the trip swing open like an orange.
There is light in there and mystery and food.
Come see it.
Come not for me but it.
But if I am still there, grant that we may see each other. — John Ashbery

People do give me a hard time about my hair because it's orange and it's big. — Carrot Top

An apple cannot not become an orange simply because a McKinsey report concluded it would be beneficial for it to do so. — Pallavi Aiyar

As the dreamscape around me grows clearer, I slip further away from it. The mind is a magical thing, I'm discovering. A dreamscape is made of thought and is wider than the sky, able to grow large enough to fit not just our own world, but every possibility and impossibility beyond it. Once I quit thinking of it as being forced into the laws of physics, it's easy to manipulate the dreamscape into anything I want. I don't know how I know all this, no more than I understand how I know things when I dream. I just do.
I throw up my hand, and a wall rises between the orange grove and me. Behind the wall, I start creating the world I need in Representative Belles's mind. — Beth Revis

The Americans fished on, not hoping for much anymore, perhaps for a miracle, searching for small things to be happy about, because they were Americans and this was what their upbringings had taught them to do. They found a brief happiness, for example, in the potato chips that came to their rooms on expensive china and in the genuinely hopeful way the hotel girl asked if they'd had any luck. They took pleasure in their morning calls to the Lufthansa man, his wriggly explanations for the canceled flights to Norway. They smiled at the way a church had been built so the setting sun hit it high and perfect and orange, and the way they could follow the river to a park where miniskirted women lay in the grass with headphones clamped over their ears, and even at the way the little student-girls came filing down at noon behind their English-teaching beauty to call them fools. — Anthony Doerr

Prepare yourself, I'm taking bread out of the oven.
Don't tease me, woman ... zucchini? Cranberry orange.
Mmmm ... No woman has ever done breakfast bread foreplay the way you do. — Alice Clayton

Siege

This I do, being mad:
Gather baubles about me,
Sit in a circle of toys, and all the time
Death beating the door in.

White jade and an orange pitcher,
Hindu idol, Chinese god, -
Maybe next year, when I'm richer -
Carved beads and a lotus pod...

And all this time
Death beating the door in. — Edna St. Vincent Millay

The earth's round, like an orange, but this map is like its skin, cut off in ovals, north to south, laid flat and stretched a bit at the top and bottom. A Dutchman called Mercator invented the way to do this accurately twenty years ago. It's the first accurate world map. — James Clavell

What do you think about when you close your eyes?" she asked. Alex looked at her, her silky orange eyes catching light from the fire, her hair falling against her cheek, her lips soft and full. "You really want to know?" She nodded. "Yeah." "I think about you, — Lisa McMann

My new friend," she said. "I met him at the farmers' market."
Friend? Now there was some code. Suddenly, I realized why Patricia [his grandma] had sex on her mind, and then, just as suddenly, I had this whole new batch of unwanted images and thoughts.
"So what do you think, hon? Saturday night, maybe?" Patricia asked my back.
I leaned farther into the refrigerator. "Uhhh..." Milk, orange juice, pickles, mustard, canola oil, cream cheese, my grandmother having sex, please God, make it stop--
Hon? — Lisa Papademetriou

Why do you keep saying that " he asked in response "Apples and oranges aren't that different really. I mean they're both fruit. Their weight is extremely similar. They both contain acidic elements. They're both roughly spherical. They serve the same social purpose. With the possible exception of a tangerine I can't think of anything more similar to an orange than an apple. If I was having lunch with a man who was eating an apple and-while I was looking away-he replaced that apple with an orange I doubt I'd even notice. So how is this a metaphor for difference I could understand if you said 'That's like comparing apples and uranium ' or 'That's like comparing apples with baby wolverines ' or 'That's like comparing apples with the early work of Raymond Carver ' or 'That's like comparing apples with hermaphroditic ground sloths.' Those would all be valid examples of profound disparity. — Chuck Klosterman

It's so hard to do anything that doesn't owe some kind of debt to what Stanley Kubrick did with music in movies. Inevitably, you're going to end up doing something that he's probably already done before. It always seem like we're falling behind whatever he came up with. 'Singin' in the Rain' in Clockwork Orange - that was the first time I became so aware of music in movies. So no matter how hard you try to do something new, you're always following behind. — Paul Thomas Anderson

The things you remember about a person when they're gone are funny. No two people will feel the same way, though usually it has to do with scent, or expression, the sound of a voice, an unusual gesture. For me, I can still see the colors of Keiko; the black of her hair against creamy pale skin, her dark blue kimono with white circles, the deep orange persimmons falling from the brown basket she carried. The ache in my heart grows larger every time I think of these colors, and how as each day passes they continue to fade from my eyes. — Gail Tsukiyama

we smelled the blotter of lavender a second time. I was surprised to find that it had changed. Most materials do, Fauvel explained. Some burst into the nose immediately and leave just as fast, ones like lemon, like orange, like ginger. Those, she said, are called top notes. Middle notes, like geranium and rose, linger but not for the long term. Base notes like sandalwood or musk stick around a while. — Molly Birnbaum

There were a lot of times people would do my makeup, and it would be awful, and I would be orange. Nothing matched. So then you learn how to do your own makeup. I watched a lot of YouTube videos when I was little and taught myself. — Zendaya

(The subject of Peter Gallagher's eyebrows, I realize, is a digression away from the Oneida Community, and yet, I do feel compelled, indeed almost conspiracy theoretically bound to mention that one of the reasons the Oneida Community broke up and turned itself into a corporate teapot factory is that a faction within the group, led by a lawyer named James William Towner, was miffed that the community's most esteemed elders were bogarting the teenage virgins and left in a huff for none other than Orange County, California, where Towner helped organize the Orange County government, became a judge, and picked the spot where the Santa Ana courthouse would be built, a courthouse where, it is reasonable to assume, Peter Gallagher's attorney on The O.C. might defend his clients.) — Sarah Vowell

What Carew does with a football, I can do with an orange. — John Carew

Is that why you do good deeds, Richie? To shorten your time in Purgatory?' 'Oh, honey,' he said, brushing lint from an orange sleeve. 'I'm going to hell. That's where the action is. — Michael Nava

Orange is what red and yellow can do when they combine efforts. If you paint only with red, you will get what only red can do. If you paint only with yellow, you will get what only yellow can do. But when you paint with red and yellow, you will get new possibilities, fresh solutions, vibrant outcomes. When you think orange, you see how two combined influences make a greater impact than just two influences. As long as churches do only what churches are doing, they will get only the results they are presently getting. and as long as families do only what families are doing, they will produce only the outcomes they are presently producing. The church can be represented with yellow ("bright lights") and families with red ("warm hearts"). — Reggie Joiner

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

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

When life gives you lemons, do NOT make lemonade. Lemonade is for losers. Make orange juice instead. — Neshialy S.

Suddenly, I viddied what I had to do, and what I had wanted to do, and that was to do myself in; to snuff it, to blast off for ever out of this wicked, cruel world. One moment of pain perhaps and, then, sleep forever, and ever and ever. — Anthony Burgess

You just kind of go and do your own thing. Sometimes it's really hard to compare apples and oranges, so you don't really think of it that way. You just perform to your fullest potential and hope everybody else does too. And however it works out, it works out. — Jennifer Nettles

My hand closed around one of the slightly textured, round items. It was an orange. The crazy ass threw two oranges at me. "I get grumpy when I don't eat, too," he said, like the reason I didn't feel like dying was because of low blood sugar. There weren't enough M&Ms in the world for that. An orange sure as hell wasn't going to do it. — Cambria Hebert

It's the opening line of a football game returned for a touchdown. Or fumbled.

It's what orange juice is to breakfast, the first minutes of a blind date, a salesman's opening remarks.

It sets the tone, lights the stage, greases the skids for everything to follow.

It's the most important part of everything you'll ever write because if it doesn't work, whatever follows won't matter. It won't get read.

It's your opening paragraph. And enough can't be said about its importance.

Seduction. That's basically what leads are all about--enticing the reader across the threshold of your book, novel or article--because nothing happens until you get 'em inside.

And you literally have only seconds to do it because surveys show that eight out of ten people quit reading whatever it is they've started after the first fifty words. — Lionel Fisher

As a last resort, with the orange nearing my face and my back pressing hard against the sharp edge of my broadcast table, I grabbed my phone to tell Carlos that if I didn't make it home tonight, it wasn't because I didn't love him, or didn't want to watch a documentary on special scientific graphs, or was too obsessed with my job to relax and enjoy a good meal and some television. It was only because I was zapped out of existence by a lunatic Non-John Peters. And that, in fact, I do love Carlos, and I would want nothing more than to watch a documentary on scientific graphs over some homemade linguini, or go out to eat again, or whatever.

But then, as I grabbed my phone, I thought: That's way too long to write for a text. So I just hit John Peters upside the head with it... — Joseph Fink

When I sit down at the typewriter, I write. Someone once asked me if I had a fixed routine before I start, like setting up exercises, sharpening pencils, or having a drink of orange juice. I said, "No, the only thing I do before I start writing is to make sure that I'm close enough to the typewriter to reach the keys." — Isaac Asimov

Thanks, Molly. It's been a tough night. Some idiot's started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!" "And what really happens when you put them on?" "Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange color, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentaclelike warts all over their bodies. As if St. Mungo's didn't have enough to do already! — J.K. Rowling

glanced at the van sitting in the driveway before turning her gaze on the mountains in the distance, all lilac and orange in the rising sunlight. How easy would it be to just drive away? Never look back? Do something different. Something new. Something — Julie Frayn

Never embrace a version of the gospel that doesn't require you to do life with someone who isn't like you. — Reggie Joiner

I do quite a lot of art, with a small 'a'. I guess that is how I was dredged up, with paints and crayons. Even when I was at nursery, I knew instinctively how to mix colours, how to make purple or orange. — Amanda Harlech

Pen realized it: Sometimes there is nothing to do but surrender yourself to wonder ... You must stop measuring - over and over - the line between loving and being in love. You must offer yourself, whole, to the cobalt starfish (and the orange one and the pale pink one and the biscuit-colored one with the raised, chocolate-brown art deco design) and to the clear, clear water and to the sweep of shining sky and to the silver scattershot of leaping fish (an entire school skipping across the ocean like a stone.) — Marisa De Los Santos

Do you know why the leaves change colour, Makin?" They did look spectacular. The forest had grown around us as we traveled and the canopy burned with colour, from deepest red to flame orange, an autumn fire spreading in defiance of the rain.
"I don't know," he said, "Why do they change?"
"Before a tree sheds a leaf it pumps it full of all the poison it can't rid itself of otherwise. That red there - that's a man's skin blotching with burst veins after an assassin spikes his last meal with roto-weed. The poison spreading through him before he dies. — Mark Lawrence

Orange Nya Nya Style ...
Orange Nya Nya Style ...
I am an orange,
people think that I'm annoying
Say what you want
'cuz I'm certainly not boring
I hang out in the stables
with a bunch of unicorns
and i ride them into outspace -
honking unihorns!
I hangout with pear
In the kitchen every
we really like it here
We do?
We're having fun times
even squash is here
...
Marshmallow is really happy with his teddy bear -
his evil teddy bear — Annoying Orange

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?" The word exploded out of me. "What do you want me to tell you? You want to hear about how they tied us up like animals to bring us into the camp - or, hey! How about that time a PSF once beat in a girl's skull so badly she actually lost an eye? You want to know what it was like to drink rotten water for an entire summer until new pipes finally came? How I woke up afraid and went to bed in terror every single day for six years? For God's sake, leave me alone! Why do you always have to dig and dig when you know I don't want to talk about it? — Alexandra Bracken

I supposed that if I had a third eye in the middle of my forehead she would want one of those too. "You don't want a fake orange tan, Munchkin."
"Yes, I do," she insisted. "It's pretty."
Alex was amused. "Oh, I think so too. Very pretty and informative. I have always wondered what the female Oompa-Loompas looked like. — Tammy Blackwell

Drink a bottle of cheap champagne. Mix with orange juice. A large Glenmorangie. Milk and blackish toast. Half a bottle of Blue Nun. Budweiser. Budweiser. Go to church. Say I do etc. Budweiser. Murphy's. Jameson. Budweiser. Stella. Stella. Cake. Stella. Jameson. Stella. Vodka and orange. Vodka and black. Speech, speech. Vodka. Vodka. Double Jameson. Double vodka. Double vodka. Get carry-outs of barley wine. Say goodbye to aunties. Uncles. Mothers etc. Stop car on M18. Vomit. Sleep. Dream of dim-lit hallways and a black door. Wake up between Scarborough and Robin Hood's Bay. Her not saying much. Driving. — Dean Lilleyman

In 'Clockwork Orange,' you're there with your eyes, watching all those things, your brain goes off, ahh, exposes you to so many things, and at the end of the day, it's just like a roller coaster. Why do you jump in a roller coaster? You want a thrill. — Fede Alvarez

What Claire could do with the edible flowers that grew around the cranky apple tree in the backyard was the stuff of legend. Everyone knew that if you got Claire to cater your anniversary party, she would make aioli sauce with nasturtiums and tulip cups filled with orange salad, and everyone would leave the party feeling both jealous and aroused. And if you got her to cater your child's birthday party, she would serve tiny strawberry cupcakes and candied violets and the children would all be well behaved and would take long afternoon naps. Claire had a true magic to her cooking when she used her flowers. — Sarah Addison Allen