A Quote by Oscar Wilde

It is in the brain that the poppy is red, that the apple is odorous, that the skylark sings. — © Oscar Wilde
It is in the brain that the poppy is red, that the apple is odorous, that the skylark sings.
If I decide to make a coat red in the show, it's not just red, I think: is it communist red? Is it cherry cordial? Is it ruby red? Or is it apple red? Or the big red balloon red?
Dancing? You, Poppy?" Marianne shook her head slowly. I never thought..." Rose looked concerned. She even felt Poppy's head for fever, but Poppy shook her off. "I don't know about you, Rose, but I'm done letting creatures like Under Stone and the Corley dictate my life. I enjoy dancing, and I will blasted well dance at my wedding!" "Poppy! Language!" Poppy didn't answer; she just threw her arms around Christian and kissed him soundly.
A red apple isn't red, nor the lemon yellow. The sky is seldom blue, only when it isn't.
I survived, carried on, glad to be like a weed, a wild red poppy, rooted in life.
We cherish too, the Poppy red That grows on fields where valor led, It seems to signal to the skies That blood of heroes never dies.
A dog starv'd at the master's gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A horse misus'd upon the road Calls to heaven for human blood. Each outcry of the hunted hare A fibre from the brain does tear, A skylark wounded on the wing, A cherubim does cease to sing.
He who sings a song to Christ in the night, sings the best song in all the world; for he sings from the heart.
I am a very poppy little girl. I wasn't allowed to be poppy at first because y'know in my mind, pop stars are thin and beautiful and light, and I've never felt beautiful, skinny and light.
But Apple really beats to a different drummer. I used to say that Apple should be the Sony of this business, but in reality, I think Apple should be the Apple of this business.
You make me feel like a candy apple, red and horny.
I'm in a house where if the washing machine shuts off, it sings a song. If iPad gets a message, it sings a song. I'm living in a real postmodern time - every single thing sings to you to tell you it's started, it's stopped, you've got a message, you didn't get a message.
Yes, linseed oil. I used to use poppy oil, but I have heard that poppy oil is given to cracking pigment too, so I use it no longer.
Hi." "Hi." I shrug, as though to say "Whatever." In my peripheral vision I can see Magnus exhale. He looks a teeny bit nervous. "So." "So." I can play this game too. "Poppy." "Poppy. I mean, Magnus." I scowl. He caught me out.
The first pair Opal and Amber are, Agate sings in B flat, the wolf avatar, A duet-solutio! - with Aquamarine. Mighty Emerald next, with the lovely Citrine. Number Eight is digestio, her stand is Jade fine. E major's the key of the Black Tourmaline, Sapphire sings in F major, and bright is her sheen. Then almost at once comes Diamond alone, Whose sign of the lion as Leo is known. Projectio! Time flows on, both present and past. Ruby red is the first and is also the last.
London life was very full and exciting [...] But in London there would be no greenhouse with a glossy tank, and no apple-room, and no potting-shed, earthy and warm, with bunches of poppy heads hanging from the ceiling, and sunflower seeds in a wooden box, and bulbs in thick paper bags, and hanks of tarred string, and lavender drying on a tea-tray.
In the Mac vs. PC ads, Apple bills itself as the antidote to Microsoft. To love Apple wasn't to sell out. It was to buy in. Most people use PCs, but Apple has the mindshare.
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