Yellow Quotes

“And I'm hoping there's some larger truth about suffering here, or at least my understanding of it - although I've come to realize that the only truths that matter to me are the ones I don't, and can't, understand.

What's mysterious, ambiguous, inexplicable. What doesn't fit into a story, what doesn't have a story. Glint of brightness on a barely-there chain. Patch of sunlight on a yellow wall. The loneliness that separates every living creature from every other living creature. Sorrow inseparable from joy.”
― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

“It's no fun to be yellow. Maybe I'm not all yellow. I don't know. I think maybe I'm just partly yellow and partly the type that doesn't give much of a damn if they lose their gloves. One of my troubles is, I never care too much when I lose something - it used to drive mother crazy when I was a kid. Some guys spend days looking for something they've lost. I never seem to have anything that if I lost it I'd care too much. Maybe that's why I'm partly yellow. It's no excuse, though. It really isn't. What you should be is not yellow at all.”
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

“I had an interview once with some German journalist—some horrible, ugly woman. It was in the early days after the communists—maybe a week after—and she wore a yellow sweater that was kind of see-through. She had huge tits and a huge black bra, and she said to me, ‘It’s impolite; remove your glasses.’ I said, ‘Do I ask you to remove your bra?”
― Karl Lagerfeld

“The yellow glistens.
It glistens with various yellows,
Citrons, oranges and greens
Flowering over the skin.”
― Wallace Stevens

“Do not define me by my gender or my socio-economic status, Noah Willis. Do not tell me who I am and do not tell me who society thinks I am and then put me in that box and expect me to stay there. Because, I swear to God, I will climb the hell out of that box and I will take that box you've just put me in and I will use that box to smash your face in until you're nothing more than a freckly, bloodied pulp. You got that, sweet cheeks?”
― Megan Jacobson, Yellow

“All told, she owned fourteen books, but she saw her story as being made up predominantly of ten of them. Of those ten, six were stolen, one showed up at the kitchen table, two were made for her by a hidden Jew, and one was delivered by a soft, yellow-dressed afternoon.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“...I love dandelions. They make me feel like sunshine itself, and you will always see some creature resting on an open bloom, if you have a little patience to wait. This vital source for all emerging pollinators is a blast of uplifting yellow to brighten even the greyest of days. It stands tall and proud, unlike all the others opening and swaying in the breeze. The odd one out.”
― Dara McAnulty, Diary of a Young Naturalist

“There is no shortage of well-known pirates, including: Henry Morgan, Captain Kidd, Blackbeard, Blue beard, Yellowbeard, and Yellow beard with Black Roots, who surmised that, if blondes have more fun, then blond pirates must have a heck of a lot more fun.”
― Cuthbert Soup, Another Whole Nother Story

“Fame stole my yellow. Yellow is the color you get when you're real and brutally honest. Yellow is with my kids[...]The bundle of bright yellow warming my core, formerly frozen and uninhabitable[...]They got yellow from me, and I felt yellow giving it to them and it was all good[...]So, why am I leaving my show? It took my yellow. I wanted it back. Without it I can't live. The gray kills me.”
― Rosie O'Donnell, Celebrity Detox

“Yellow is the true color of spring, not green; the new grass, the clouds, the misty, sunny air, the sticky buds like little feathers on the trees, all are mixed with yellow tone, with the haze of sun and earth and water. Green is for summer; blue, for fall.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“Outside, the garden shimmered with heat. She waded through the helleborine, its flowers leaving crimson smears on her dress. The air hummed with insects, the sun catching on the wings of a damselfly. Violet smiled, remembering the words from her mother's letter.
Walls painted yellow as tansy flowers.
It was as if she was reaching out to her from beyond the grave, guiding her.
She found the plant under the sycamore, bobbing with yellow flowers, each one comprised of tiny buds clustered together like a beetle's eggs.”
― Emilia Hart, Weyward

“Bright yellow lemons twinkled in the twilight sun on a terrace tree, and far beyond my window, San Francisco lay, flat like a pastel toy.”
― Aspen Matis, Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir

“She is yellow, I'm all blue...
It's ok! What can I do!?”
― Liviu C. Tudose

“Yellow bells

Meaning: Welcome to a stranger
Geleznowia verrucosa | Western Australia

A small shrub with great yellow flowers. Sun loving, drought tolerant and requiring a well-drained soil. Will grow in a little shade, but sun for most of the day is essential. Makes a wonderful cut flower, although fickleness in propagation and seed germination make this a rare plant.”
― Holly Ringland, The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

“She'd loved birds long before her physical limitations kept her grounded. She'd found a birding diary of her grandmother's in a trunk in the attic when she was Frankie's age, and when she asked her father about it, he dug through boxes on a shelf high above her head, handing down a small pair of binoculars and some field guides.
She'd seen her first prothonotary warbler when she was nine, sitting alone on a tupelo stump in the forest, swatting at mosquitoes targeting the pale skin behind her ears. She glanced up from the book she was reading only to be startled by an unexpected flash of yellow. Holding her breath, she fished for the journal she kept in her pocket, focusing on the spot in the willow where he might be. A breeze stirred the branches, and she saw the brilliant yellow head and underparts standing out like petals of a sunflower against the backdrop of leaves; the under tail, a stark white. His beak was long, pointed and black; his shoulders a mossy green, a blend of the citron yellow of his head and the flat slate of his feathers. He had a black dot of an eye, a bead of jet set in a field of sun. Never had there been anything so perfect. When she blinked he disappeared, the only evidence of his presence a gentle sway of the branch. It was a sort of magic, unveiled to her. He had been hers, even if only for a few seconds.
With a stub of pencil- 'always a pencil,' her grandmother had written. 'You can write with a pencil even in the rain'- she noted the date and time, the place and the weather. She made a rough sketch, using shorthand for her notes about the bird's coloring, then raced back to the house, raspberry canes and brambles speckling bloody trails across her legs. In the field guide in the top drawer of her desk, she found him again: prothonotary warbler, 'prothonotary' for the clerks in the Roman Catholic Church who wore robes of a bright yellow. It made absolute sense to her that something so beautiful would be associated with God.
After that she spent countless days tromping through the woods, toting the drab knapsack filled with packages of partially crushed saltines, the bottles of juice, the bruised apples and half-melted candy bars, her miniature binoculars slung across one shoulder. She taught herself how to be patient, how to master the boredom that often accompanied careful observation. She taught herself how to look for what didn't want to be seen.”
― Tracy Guzeman, The Gravity of Birds

“You’re yellow from the time gathered upon you. I’m brown, I’ve been around for ages.”
― Pallavi Sareen

“As I sat in Mallory Square the next morning, waiting for Iliza, the pale yellow light of the sun reflected off the water as if to parody the jaundice of the island’s locals.”
― Sean Norris, Heaven and Hurricanes

“Entonces entraron al cuarto de José Arcadio Buendía, lo sacudieron con todas sus fuerzas, le gritaron al oído, le pusieron un espejo frente a las fosas nasales, pero no pudieron despertarlo. Poco después, cuando el carpintero le tomaba las medidas para el ataúd, vieron a través de la ventana que estaba cayendo una llovizna de flores amarillas. Cayeron toda la noche sobre el pueblo en una tormenta silenciosa, y cubrieron los techos y atascaron las puertas, y sofocaron a los animales que durmieron a la intemperie. Tantas flores cayeron del cielo, que las calles amanecieron tapizadas de una colcha compacta, y tuvieron que despejarlas con palas y rastrillos para que pudiera pasar el entierro.”
― Gabriel García Márquez

“This is the Los Angeles Lakers of sunsets. Purple and yellow, it reminds me of Larry Bird.”
― Jarod Kintz, The Lewis and Clark of The Ozarks

“This girl. Yellow and amorous. She’s a story. A novel I’ve already read, but in a foreign language.”
― Lancali ., I Fell in Love With Hope

“Y'all have a song?'

H nods. 'Bất-tơ-phơ-lai de-lồ.'

'Butterfly yellow? You mean yellow butterfly.'

H starts to explain but pulls out her notebook. The most prepared notetaker on earth.

Bướm = butterfly, vàng = yellow.”
― Thanhha Lai, Butterfly Yellow

“During my time working at the very high altitude Mauna Kea Observatories, my teeth started turning yellow. They were so discolored that I had to have two veneers attached to my front teeth.”
― Steven Magee

“RJ is standing there, and in his arms is a wriggling French bulldog puppy of the most inexplicable color, almost pale honeyed yellow tinged with a sort of peachy pink.
"Oh my goodness! Who are you?"
RJ hands me the pup, who immediately starts licking all over my face and biting my ponytail. Dumpling tries to stand on his one leg to see what is going on, and falls over at my feet. RJ scoops him up and puts him face-to-face with the puppy.
"Dumpling, there is someone we want you to meet. We thought you might want a little sister."
Dumpling looks at the puppy, who leans forward and licks his face. Dumpling licks back. The puppy sniffs his ear and then with one move, snatches the eye patch right off his head and starts to chew it. Dumpling looks at me with his one good eye, head cocked as if to say, "We're going to have our hands full with this one," and then turns and licks RJ under his chin.
"I can't believe you did this! You are so sneaky."
"Well, we did talk about wanting to do it, and a guy at work breeds them for showing, but this one is off the allowable color charts."
"She does have a certain, um... Well, she's kind of, um..."
"Pink? Yeah. Some weird anomaly, and apparently, not good for the show circuit."
"But good for us."
"That's what I thought."
"What should we call her?"
RJ smiles. "I was thinking Pamplemousse."
"Of course. What else could she be?”
― Stacey Ballis, Off the Menu

“McDonald’s has successfully used the famous golden yellow arches and red motif designed by architect Stanley Meson when founder Ray Kroc opened his first restaurant on April 15, 1955, in Chicago suburb Des Plaines, Illinois. The cheerful yellow and speedy red color formula helps create a happy eating experience while increasing table turnover.

Warm colors, such as red, orange, and yellow — which are connected to the lower chakras that involve digestion, motivation, and hunger — have been found to stimulate the need to eat. Other restaurants use the magnifying, expansive “red prana effect” to increase
table turnover while escalating the bill by elevating the
volume level of sound in restaurants, which causes
people to eat faster, drink more, and leave sooner.”
― Cary G. Weldy, The Power of Tattoos: Twelve Hidden Energy Secrets of Body Art Every Tattoo Enthusiast Should Know

“McDonald’s has toned down its bright yellow motif and radically expanded its color scheme when it announced in early 2016 that “the new look is simple, fresh, and consistent with the company’s vision to be a modern and progressive burger company.”

Interestingly, it was about that time when the company decided to substitute its signature red and yellow colors that its sales began to substantially decline.”
― Cary G. Weldy, The Power of Tattoos: Twelve Hidden Energy Secrets of Body Art Every Tattoo Enthusiast Should Know

“The bee buzzed past again, flying in spirals toward the water. I followed it with my gaze, hoping it didn't plunge into the pool, as I didn't think bees could swim. It turned out I needn't have worried, as its fuzzy yellow body simply skimmed the water's surface. As I stared at the bee, it seemed to me its yellow bands began to glow brightly.”
― Heather Webber, In the Middle of Hickory Lane

“Fue tan eficaz fue la cuarentena que llegó el día en que la situación de emergencia se tuvo por cosa natural, y se organizó la vida de tal modo que el trabajo recobró su ritmo y nadie volvió a preocuparse por la inútil costumbre de dormir.”
― Gabriel García Márquez

“Not all yellow is gold and not all glitter is diamonds and rubies.”
― Kamaran Ihsan Salih

“Last I remember a beat in my body
My heart felt warm
Lazy, and yellow
Maybe that was love.”
― Devika Todi, Sun On My Hands: A Poetry and Prose Collection

“She was the color yellow. My sunlight casting away the clouds and the rain.”
― Kailey Bright, Unity