He looks up and up and up to get to her face. His mama's a tall lady, and he's only seven. He's overwhelmed by red. Red heels, red nails, red lips, red hair, red eyes. So help him, the boy has always thought his mama's copper-colored eyes damn near shined red. He looks into those eyes and knows she's come home funny.
Carolyn Lee Adams
Red has been praised for its nobility of the color of life. But the true color of life is not red. Red is the color of violence, or of life broken open, edited, and published. Or if red is indeed the color of life, it is so only on condition that it is not seen. Once fully visible, red is the color of life violated, and in the act of betrayal and of waste.
I'm in love with red. I think it's such a passionate color. Every flag of every country pretty much has red it it. It's power, there's no fence sitting with red. Either you love it or you don't. I think its blood and strength and life. I do love red. I love all colors. Great shades of blue, you find them in nature. They're all magic.
Im in love with red. I think its such a passionate color. Every flag of every country pretty much has red it it. Its power, theres no fence sitting with red. Either you love it or you dont. I think its blood and strength and life. I do love red. I love all colors. Great shades of blue, you find them in nature. Theyre all magic.
I caught a red bird once, I fell in love with her, Took the red bird home with me, I saw her eyes, at saw my peace, I love the red bird much, I cut her wings, I wanted the bird to stay, I made a cage for her, No wings, and trapped, the red bird cried, I saw her eyes in pain; it broke my heart to see, I was the one to blame, for the red bird's pain, It grew back its wings, no longer in the cage, She looked at me once more, spread its wings and left, I loved that red bird still; I wish she was with me But now I know for sure , her pain was caused by me.
I can see it, hear it, feel it, taste it - but I can never be on the inside of it with you. I cannot even be sure whether I really know what it is like. Is it 'like' my own? Or incomparable? Just as I can never know if what you see at any given moment is exactly the same as what I see. We look at a colour. We both call it red. But it is only because we have been taught to call it by that name. There is no guarantee - not ever - that we see it in the same way, that your red is my red.
I was shown into a room. A red room. Red wallpaper, red curtains, red carpet. They said it was a sitting-room, but I don't know why they'd decided to confine its purpose just to sitting. Obviously, sitting was one of the things you could do in a room this size; but you could also stage operas, hold cycling races, and have an absolutely cracking game of frisbee, all at the same time, without having to move any of the furniture. It could rain in a room this big.
I'm sure the red fern has grown and has completely covered the two little mounds. I know it is still there, hiding its secret beneath those long, red leaves, but it wouldn't be hidden from me for part of my life is buried there, too. Yes, I know it is still there, for in my heart I believe the legend of the sacred red fern.
Well Vin says that there's something behind all this, right? Some evil force of doom or whatever? Well, if I were said force of doom, then I certainly wouldn't have used my powers to turn the land black. It just lacks flair. Red. Now, that would be an interesting color. Think of the possibilities--if the ash were red, the rivers would run like blood. Black is so monotonous that you can forget about it, but red--you'd always be thinking, 'Why, look at that. That hill is red. That evil force of doom trying to destroy me certainly has style.
I love color. It must submit to me. And I love art. I kneel before it, and it must become mine. Everything around me glows with passion. Every day reveals a new red flower, glowing, scarlet red. Everyone around me carries them. Some wear them quietly hidden in their hearts. And they are like poppies just opening, of which one can see only here and there a hint of red petal peeking out from the green bud.
She spent an afternoon staring at their front door. Waiting for someone? Yankel asked. What color is this? He stood very close to the door, letting the end of his nose touch the peephole. He licked the wood and joked, It certainly tastes like red. Yes, it is red, isn't it? Seems so. She buried her head in her hands. But couldn't it be just a bit more red?
Jonathan Safran Foer
There speaks the passion and the rebellion that go with red hair. My second wife had red hair. She was a beautiful woman, and she loved me. Strange, is it not? I have always admired red-haired women. Your hair is very beautiful. There are other things I like about you. Your spirit, your courage; the fact that you have a mind of your own. ~Mr. Aristides
I had heard the old Indian legend about the red fern. How a little Indian boy and girl were lost in a blizzard and had frozen to death. In the spring, when they were found, a beautiful red fern had grown up between their two bodies. The story went on to say that only an angel could plant the seeds of a red fern, and that they never died; where one grew, that spot was sacred.
When what we see catches us off guard, and when we write it as realistically and openly as possible, it offers hope. You look around and say, Wow, there's that same mockingbird; there's that woman in the red hat again. The woman in the red hat is about hope because she's in it up to her neck, too, yet every day she puts on that crazy red hat and walks to town.
Jim: Green and red. (pulls on green lever which closes a door) Artie: Very impressive. (stops Jim from pulling the red lever). Uh... did it ever occur to you that red might mean danger? Jim: For instance? Artie: For instance, red for fire. Fire of explosion. Jim: What would they want to explode? Artie: Those who fool around with their levers. Wild Wild West Season 4 Night of the Big Blackmail
Wild Wild West TV TV
SUN WILL BE SHINING, I WILL BE LEAVING LIFE WILL BEGIN FROM ABOVE I STARTED DREAMING DEEPEST OF FEELINGS SKY&RSQUO;S GETTING CLOUDY AND COLD I&RSQUO;M GOING DOWN, I CAN HEAR THE SOUND I&RSQUO;M BACK ON THE GROUND, RED LIGHT GREEN HIGH, GOING DOWN I HAVE TO FIND IT, THE PLACE I REMEMBER SOMEONE IS CALLING FOR ME SOON I WILL BE GONE, I HOPE I WON&RSQUO;T BE LONG I&RSQUO;M HIGH AS I SHOULD BE, RED LIGHT, GREEN HIGH, GOING DOWN RED LIGHT, GREEN HIGH, GOING DOWN&HELLIP; RED LIGHT, GREEN HIGH, GOING DOWN