A Quote by Gladys Taber

Some of the days in November carry the whole memory of summer as a fire opal carries the color of moonrise. — © Gladys Taber
Some of the days in November carry the whole memory of summer as a fire opal carries the color of moonrise.
There are as many worlds as there are kinds of days, and as an opal changes its colors and its fire to match the nature of a day, so do I.
You are told a lot about your education, but some beautiful, sacred memory, preserved since childhood, is perhaps the best education of all. If a man carries many such memories into life with him, he is saved for the rest of his days. And even if only one good memory is left in our hearts, it may also be the instrument of our salvation one day.
Everybody's going to do the 3D slightly differently the same way that people are going to deal with color differently. Some movies downplay the color, some color is very vibrant. Color design is very different. We've got to think of 3D like color or like sound, as just part of the creative palette that we paint with and not some whole new thing that completely redefines the medium.
Do you know what a pearl is and what an opal is? My soul when you came sauntering to me first through those sweet summer evenings was beautiful but with the pale passionless beauty of a pearl. Your love has passed through me and now I feel my mind something like an opal, that is, full of strange uncertain hues and colours, of warm lights and quick shadows and of broken music.
Some days felt longer than other days. Some days felt like two whole days. Unfortunately those days were never weekend days. Our Saturdays and Sundays passed in half the time of a normal workday. In other words, some weeks it felt like we worked ten straight days and had only one day off.
It's difficult to say there's something I dislike the most about Hillary Clinton. Frankly, in a weird way, she's had to eat a whole lot of excrement sandwiches in her life, and some days she's had mustard to put on them and some days not. Some days mayonnaise and some days just plain.
November?s days are thirty: November?s earth is dirty, Those thirty days, from first to last; And the prettiest things on ground are the paths.... Few care for the mixture of earth and water, Twig, leaf, flint, thorn, Straw, feather, all that men scorn, Pounded up and sodden by flood, Condemned as mud.
When you want full color perception, you must give up preferring some colors and hating others, for you can only hate one aspect of a color, not a whole color, it seems, hate being blind, like 'love.
I always carry around a giant makeup case with about fifteen items in it. I so want to be the girl who just carries lipstick as if that's all I need, but I'm just not that girl. I need my lipstick, but then, just in case my cheeks start to lose their color, I need my blush. Then I'll need my oil pads...so I just take the whole thing. And now I need a full on fashionable backpack for it all!
Whatever comes from the brain carries the hue of the place it came from, and whatever comes from the heart carries the heat and color of its birthplace.
Some days you're the fire hydrant, and some days you're the dog.
The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year - the days when summer is changing into autumn - the crickets spread the rumor of sadness and change.
A staple in my makeup bag is Black Opal's True Color Skin Perfecting Stick Foundation, which offers a range of colors with many undertones.
We are but phantoms ... and the phantoms of phantoms, desires like cloud-shadows and wills of straw that eddy in the wind; the days pass, use and wont carry us through as a train carries the shadow of its lights.
Each minute bursts in the burning room,The great globe reels in the solar fire,Spinning the trivial and unique away.(How all things flash! How all things flare!)What am I now that I was then?May memory restore again and againThe smallest color of the smallest day:Time is the school in which we learn,Time is the fire in which we burn.
The fire in leaf and grass so green it seems each summer the last summer.
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