A Quote by Rush Limbaugh

I've always wondered how in the hell we conservatives became denoted by red. That's a commie color! It is! The liberals have always been red! — © Rush Limbaugh
I've always wondered how in the hell we conservatives became denoted by red. That's a commie color! It is! The liberals have always been red!
Red has been praised for its nobility of the color of life. But the true color of life is not red. Red is the color of violence, or of life broken open, edited, and published. Or if red is indeed the color of life, it is so only on condition that it is not seen. Once fully visible, red is the color of life violated, and in the act of betrayal and of waste.
Red has always been my color, because red stands out.
Candy apple red is my favorite color. It's a powerful color to wear. It's always been that way - I've always been really attracted to that color.
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?
The true color of life is the color of the body, the color of the covered red, the implicit and not explicit red of the living heart and the pulses. It is the modest color of the unpublished blood.
Blue is the only color which maintains its own character in all its tones it will always stay blue; whereas yellow is blackened in its shades, and fades away when lightened; red when darkened becomes brown, and diluted with white is no longer red, but another color – pink.
Red lipstick has always been a classic. You have seen the red lip on people from Marilyn Monroe to Marilyn Manson. The right shade of red can turn a boring look into a bold, eye-catching statement.
For her everything was red, orange, gold-red from the sun on the closed eyes, and it all was that color, all of it, the filling, the possessing, the having, all of that color, all in a blindness of that color." - Ernest Hemingway.
As my friend Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe has argued persuasively, there is an element of positivity in the visible world, and in color particularly, that totally eludes the historicity of language, with its protocols of absence and polarity. The color red, as an attribute of the world, is always there. It is something other than the absence of yellow and blue--and, thus, when that red becomes less red, it becomes more one or the other. It never exists in a linguistic condition of degradation or excess that must necessarily derive from our expectations.
And red is not the color of apples or roses or the dresses that pretty girls wear in the summertime. That is not the color of red at all.
I don't wear a lot of color. In fact, I don't actually like color on myself. I love color but it's very challenging, it's very powerful, it can overpower you. I think if my eyes were closed and someone put a red jacket on me, I would be able to feel that it was red. I don't feel great in color.
It was a bird. A bird struggling through stickiness: a bird coated in paint, floundering in its nest, splashing color everywhere. Red. Red. Red. Dozens of them: black feathers coated thickly with crimson-colored paint, fluttering among the branches. Red means run.
I consider Liverpool my home, and it will always be like that. It's what they say: once a Red, always a Red.
But I have always thought that these tulips must have had names. They were red, and orange and red, and red and orange and yellow, like the ember in a nursery fire of a winter's evening. I remember them.
I love red. Red pants. Red suit. Red coat. Red anything.
I remember draft night, I shook David Stern's hand while rocking a red suit with white pinstripes and red gators I've always been a trendsetter.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!