A Quote by Carol Drinkwater

Pink was my mother's favourite colour. Since her passing four years ago, I have envisaged an almond grove with thick clusters of pink, in celebration of her life and as a gentle reminder, during the darkest winter days, that kinder seasons lie ahead.
Pink is my favourite colour. I used to say my favourite colour was black to be cool, but it is pink - all shades of pink. If I have an accessory, it is probably pink.
I love pink - pink's my favourite. I hardly ever - weirdly - wear it, but I love the colour pink.
Almost all words do have colour and nothing is more pleasant than to utter a pink word and see someone's eyes light up and know it is a pink word for him or her too.
Silena appeared out of the woods, her sword drawn. Her Aphrodite armour was pink and red, colour coordinated to match her clothes and makeup. She looked like Guerilla Warfare Barbie.
A story a friend told me about being in New York and meeting this Latin-lover kind of guy. They went up to her hotel room, and the guy kind of pounced on her and told her to spread her legs, shouting, "Surrender the pink! Surrender the pink!" That's where it's from.
But that mimosa grove-the haze of stars, the tingle, the flame, the honey-dew, and the ache remained with me, and that little girl with her seaside limbs and ardent tongue haunted me ever since-until at last, twenty-four years later, I broke her spell by incarnating her in another.
Why would anyone pick blue over pink? Pink is obviously a better colour.
Im wearing an outfit that looks just like a cupcake ... a pink frothy blouse, low cut ... everything a little inappropriately girlie ... Pink, pink, lot of pink, ... Out of Practice.
Gilbert took from his desk a little pink candy heart with a gold motto on it, “You are sweet,” and slipped it under the curve of Anne’s arm. Whereupon Anne arose, took the pink heart gingerly between the tips of her fingers, dropped it on the floor, ground it to powder beneath her heel, and resumed her position without deigning to bestow a glance on Gilbert.
He knew her now. She was the weird girl in the class above him, who dyed her hair pink and always wore a lot of pentragrams and crystals. Right now she was also wearing giant chandelier earings and a violent pink T-Shirt that bore the words ROMEO AND JULIET WOULDN'T HAVE LASTED.
I had four different colors of hats, one of which was pink. I just got on a roll with the pink hat. So what started out as a superstition grew into a tradition and an easy way for my family to find me at tournaments because I am the only one with cojones big enough to wear a pink hat.
A lot is made of the pink ball. But it is the same really. A good ball is a good ball, regardless of the colour. You might want to bowl a touch fuller with the pink ball when it is nipping around but generally a pink kookaburra behaves the same as a red kookaburra.
I got into music by happenchance and luck and wearing a t-shirt with "I hate Pink Floyd" on it. The irony has never failed to amuse me ever since because I didn't hate Pink Floyd at all! And yet you have an entire range of people out there believing that the best thing you can do in life is to hate Pink Floyd. Come on, It's because it's the world I live in!
Almost all words do have color, and nothing is more pleasant than to utter a pink word and see someone's eyes light up and know it is a pink word for him or her, too.
Twelve years ago my mother gets her cataracts removed. So twelve years ago the doctor gives her these enormous sunglasses to wear to protect her eyes from the sun for 4-6 weeks after the operation...twelve years ago. She still wears them. She thinks they're attractive. She looks like Bea Arthur as a welder.
Wear pink!' her mother had said. 'It confuses the enemy.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!