A Quote by George V. Higgins

Rental formal wear of the sky-blue, brocade and shiny varieties is favored by upwardly mobile young gangsters drafted as groomsmen for weddings. — © George V. Higgins
Rental formal wear of the sky-blue, brocade and shiny varieties is favored by upwardly mobile young gangsters drafted as groomsmen for weddings.
The water is this marvellous blue. It’s so blue that once you see it you realise you’ve never seen blue before. That other thing you were calling blue is some other colour, it’s not blue. This, this is blue. It’s a blue that comes down from the sky into the water so that when you look in the sea you think sky and when you look at the sky you think sea.
I let my head fall back, and I gazed into the Eternal Blue Sky. It was morning. Some of the sky was yellow, some the softest blue. One small cloud scuttled along. Strange how everything below can be such death and chaos and pain while above the sky is peace, sweet blue gentleness. I heard a shaman say once, the Ancestors want our souls to be like the blue sky.
This ain't no upwardly mobile freeway, oh no, this is the road to hell.
... it's hard to be politically conscious and upwardly mobile at the same time.
Formal is formal. I can't wear sneakers all the time. Sometimes, I wear other shoes. It's not my challenge designing formal - it's so boring - but it's still important. I sell a lot of classic black sneakers made from every material because everyone loves black, and if you mix and match material, you get an opera.
Class is not a fixed designation in this country. We are an upwardly mobile society with a lot of movement between income groups.
I used to have a bright pink, shiny bubble jacket when I was young. My mum made me wear it.
After several minutes, picture that your entire body is merging with the blue sky. Feel that you have become the infinite blue sky that stretches endlessly in every direction.
The artist, busy and unsettled, can find a moment's peace - and even whole-being rejuvenation - by quietly attuning to a red sky, a gray sky, a black sky, a blue sky.
I wear pink on Saturdays for breast cancer, and I wear blue on Sundays. I'm superstitious. At the Evian tournament in 2010, in which I came in second, I wore baby blue on a Sunday. And ever since then, I've worn it every Sunday. Puma sponsors me, so I wear all their outfits in bright colors. I wear matching hair ribbons, too.
May you always see a blue sky overhead, my young friend; and then, even when the time comes, as it has come for me now, when the woods are black, when night is fast falling, you will be able to console yourself, as I do, by looking up at the sky.
I used to look so immature, like a young man without self-confidence. There was one particular light blue, shiny cape outfit I wore that still makes me cringe.
I turn and I look back across the lake. The mist is gone and the ice diminished, the drip of the icicles quick and heavy. The sun is up and the sky is blue empty blue light blue clear blue. I would drink the sky if I could drink it, drink it and celebrate it and let it fill me and become me. I am getting better. Empty and clear and light and blue. I am getting better.
Wouldn't it be strange, she thought, to have a blue sky? But she liked the way it looked. It would be beautiful - a blue sky.
This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes.
I never realized that the blue sky I saw was not the soft, nurturing sky of spring, but the cold, chilling, lonely sky of winter
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