#gray

Life is about the gray areas. Things are seldom black and white, even when we wish they were and think they should be, and I like exploring this nuanced terrain. ↗

— Emily Giffin

#areas #black #black and white #even #exploring

Rosiness is not a worse windowpane than gloomy gray when viewing the world. ↗

— Grace Paley

#gray #than #viewing #windowpane #world

I've mastered many thing's in my life. Navigating the streets of London, dancing the quadrille, the Japanese art of flower arranging, lying at charades, concealing a highly intoxicated state, delighting young women with my charms..." Tessa stared. "Alas," he went on, "no one has ever actually referred to me as 'the master' or 'the magister', either. More's the pity..." "Are you highly intoxicated at the moment? ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#william-herondale #art

I started going gray in my early twenties. ↗

— Matt LeBlanc

#going #gray #i #started #twenties

I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours. ↗

— Oscar Wilde

#beauty #colours #oscar-wilde #painting #the-picture-of-dorian-gray

I have been right, Basil, haven’t I, to take my love out of poetry, and to find my wife in Shakespeare’s plays? Lips that Shakespeare taught to speak have whispered their secret in my ear. I have had the arms of Rosalind around me, and kissed Juliet on the mouth. ↗

— Oscar Wilde

#love #poetry #shakespeare #love

If you do not help me," Tessa said to Jem, "I swear, I will change into you, and I will lift him myself. And then everyone here will see what you look like in a dress." She fixed him with a look. "Do you understand? ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#tessa-gray #change

Will grinned. “Some of these books are dangerous,” he said. “It’s wise to be careful.” “One must always be careful of books,” said Tessa, “and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us.” “I’m not sure a book has ever changed me,” said Will. “Well, there is one volume that promises to teach one how to turn oneself into an entire flock of sheep—” “Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry,” said Tessa, determined not to let him run wildly off with the conversation. “Of course, why one would want to be an entire flock of sheep is another matter entirely,” Will finished. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#tessa-gray #will-herondale #change

Both of us victims of the same twentieth-century plague. Not the Black Death, this time; the Gray Life. ↗

— Aldous Huxley

#life #plague #death

Will. For a moment her heart hesitated. She remembered when Will had died, her agony, the long nights alone, reaching across the bed every morning when she woke up, for years expecting to find him there, and only slowly growing accustomed to the fact that side of the bed would always be empty. The moments when she had found something funny and turned to share the joke with him, only to be shocked anew that he was not there. The worst moments, when, sitting alone at breakfast, she had realized that she had forgotten the precise blue of his eyes or the depth of his laugh; that, like the sound of Jem's violin music, they had faded into the distance where memories are silent. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#loneliness #loss #love #memories #tessa-gray