Top 1200 Yellow Moon Quotes & Sayings - Page 2

If we can send a person to the moon, we can send someone with AIDS to the moon, and then someday we can send everybody with AIDS to the moon.

While creating Moon Shoes, I had no idea that I was doing it. The experience was extremely organic, considering that I was making music spontaneously and working alongside friends. I chose to title the project 'Moon Shoes' to give listeners a sense of unearthly freedom. I believe each song moves listeners closer to the moon and personal truth.

The moon, the moon, so silver and cold, Her fickle temper has oft been told, Now shade--now bright and sunny-- But of all the lunar things that change, The one that shows most fickle and strange, And takes the most eccentric range, Is the moon--so called--of honey!

To send humans back to the moon would not be advancing. It would be more than 50 years after the first moon landing when we got there, and we'd probably be welcomed by the Chinese. But we should return to the moon without astronauts and build, with robots, an international lunar base, so that we know how to build a base on Mars robotically.

Don't even try to talk to me when I'm watching the moon. That's my moon, baby.

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow, My tears like vinegar, Or the bitter blinking yellow Of an acetic star. Tonight the caustic wind, love, Gossips late and soon, And I wear the wry-faced pucker of The sour lemon moon. While like an early summer plum, Puny, green, and tart, Droops upon its wizened stem My lean, unripened heart.

The foolishness of chasing the moon ached my heart. I was stuck between the moon and the shore and surrounded by an empty sea.

If a man's thoughts are muddy, If he is reckless and full of deceit, How can he wear the yellow robe? Whoever is master of his own nature, Bright, clear and true, He may indeed wear the yellow robe.

Buzz Aldrin doesn't think we need to go back to the Moon - that we should go straight on to Mars. I'm more on the side that says we should go back to the Moon. I think there's a lot we can utilise the Moon for scientifically.

We children sat transfixed before that moon our mother had called forth from the waters. When the moon had reached its deepest silver, my sister, Savannah, though only three, cried aloud to our mother, to Luke and me, to the river and the moon, "Oh, Mama, do it again!" And I had my earliest memory.

As the centuries unfold, millions of artists will live on the moon and paint the moon and Mars as we go out into the universe.

The imaginative young vagabond quickly loses the social instincts that help to make life bearable for other men. Always he hears voices calling in the night from far-away places where blue waters lap strange shores. He hears birds singing and crickets chirping a luring roundelay. He sees the moon, yellow ghost of a dead planet, haunting the earth.

The moon had the old moon in her arms.

I wrote 'Reaching for the Moon' because I wanted to tell kids that all of us have a moon, a dream, that we can strive for. Even if you don't attain it, you can at least reach for it.

The raft is used to cross the river. It isn't to be carried around on your shoulders. The finger which points at the moon isn't the moon itself.

Religions should be understood as only the fingers that point to the moon, not the moon itself.

If there are bases on the moon, that would be the end of the moon as we know it.

At the opening of our exhibition at Deitch Projects in New York we featured a wall of 10,000 bananas. Green bananas created a pattern against a background of yellow bananas spelling out the sentiment: Self-confidence produces fine results. After a number of days the green bananas turned yellow too and the type disappeared. When the yellow background bananas turned brown, the type (and the self-confidence) appeared again, only to go away when all bananas turned brown.

Sometimes, they say, the moon is so busy with the new souls of the world that it disappears from the sky. That is why we have moonless nights. But in the end, the moon always returns, as do we all.

I’m frightened of eggs, worse than frightened; they revolt me. That round white thing without any holes, and when you break it, inside there’s that yellow thing, round, without any holes… Brrr! Have you ever seen anything more revolting than an egg yolk breaking and spilling its yellow liquid? Blood is jolly, red. But egg yolk is yellow, revolting. I’ve never tasted it.

If China was like the moon, then arriving in Saudi Arabia was Mars. At least you can see the moon from Earth.

There is no blue without yellow and without orange, and if you put in blue, then you must put in yellow, and orange too, mustn't you? Oh well, you will tell me that what I write to you are only banalities.

I like it, but it's yellow, and I'm like, I didn't want yellow for my engagement ring.

I am convinced that the first lyric poem was written at night, and that the moon was witness to the event and that the event was witness to the moon. For me, the moon has always been the very embodiment of lyric poetry.

Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold?... This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless th' accursed, Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves, And give them title, knee and approbation With senators on the bench.

Yellow's more like, I'm not trying to be this sexy vixen or anything, obviously. I'm a very friendly person, and I literally do just want to be your friend. I think all of that is wrapped up in yellow. It seems to work. I like being in it.

Is not the beautiful moon, that inspires poets, the same moon which angers the silence of the sea with a terrible roar?

Dance when the moon sings, and don't cry about troubles that haven't yet come. (Moon Called)

I was too tired to think. I merely felt the town as a unique unreality. What was it? I knew -- the moon's picture of a town. These streets with their houses did not exist, they were but a ludicrous projection of the moon's sumptuous personality. This was a city of Pretend, created by the hypnotism of moonnight. -- Yet when I examined the moon she too seemed but a painting of a moon and the sky in which she lived a fragile echo of color. If I blew hard the whole shy mechanism would collapse gently with a neat soundless crash. I must not, or lose all.

I never really thought about how when I look at the moon it;s the same moon as Shakespeare and Marie Antoinette and George Washington and Cleopatra looked at.

As the old Zen saying reminds us, the finger pointing at the moon is not the moon.

Google X is here to do moonshot-type projects. Not just shooting to the moon, but bringing the moon back to Earth.

There are no flowers in the Moon; that's why the Moon is a boring place!

Even the moon is only poetical because there is a man in the moon.

If there was a little shine of gold on the moon, the mankind would have been to the moon even in the 19th century!

Now it's like a fog has lifted. I sense Leetu just as clearly as I can see the moon.' Your eyes are closed, and the moon as a haze around it.

If we go back to the moon, we're guaranteed second, maybe third place because while we are spending all that money, Russia has its eye on Mars. Landing people on the moon will be terribly consuming of resources we don't have. It sounds great - 'Let's go back. This time we're going to stay.' I don't know why you would want to stay on the moon.

Fantastic truths perish slower... Sappho's moon will survive the moon of Armstrong. Different computations are necessary.

I saw someone the other day with yellow on their eyelids, and it looked so fresh. But I thought if I did that I'd look like a clown. So I went and I bought some yellow eye shadow from M.A.C. and I noticed that when you mix it with water it works better. So I tried it, and I looked like Big Bird. I will never do that again.

What do you do there, moon, in the sky? Tell me what you do, silent moon. When evening comes you rise and go contemplating wastelands; then you set.

Moon In the Window I wish I could say I was the kind of child who watched the moon from her window, would turn toward it and wonder. I never wondered. I read. Dark signs that crawled toward the edge of the page. It took me years to grow a heart from paper and glue. All I had was a flashlight, bright as the moon, a white hole blazing beneath the sheets.

If the moon and earth were not retained in their orbits by their animal force or some other equivalent, the earth would mount to the moon by a fifty-fourth part of their distance, and the moon fall towards the earth through the other fifty-three parts, and they would there meet, assuming, however, that the substance of both is of the same density.

I said, 'Ooh, Dad, I want the yellow ones.' He said, 'Where?' I said, 'Right there, Dad. I want the yellow ones.' Everybody goes, 'Those are green'. That's how I knew I was colorblind.

The harvest moon has no innocence, like the slim quarter moon of a spring twilight, nor has it the silver penny brilliance of the moon that looks down upon the resorts of summer time. Wise, ripe, and portly, like an old Bacchus, it waxes night after night.

Maybe it's because I'm a designer, but when I am in a state of excitement, everything is so sharp and colorful and amazing, and I can look at blue and I see the yellow in it and the green in it, and the green-blues, the yellow-blues, so.

Because of her, he had learned to look for the birds - the darting flight of wild canaries (yellow sun on yellow wings), the chesty preening of redbirds and bluebirds, the blackbird with the red-tipped wings like startling epaulets.

We went to the moon to have fun, but the moon turned out to completely suck.

I have two favorite colors - white and yellow. White makes me feel light and airy. Yellow makes me happy.

He knows well the evening star, and once when he awoke, in a most distressful mood (some inward pain had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream), I hurried with him to our orchard plot, and he beheld the moon, and hushed at once. Suspends his sobs and laughs most silently. While his fair eyes, that swam with undropped tears, did glitter in the yellow moonbeam.

I can't tell you how many home businesses are almost in bankruptcy court over a Yellow Pages ad only to find out that the Yellow Pages ad isn't where their market will look for them, and it cost more than they thought.

Although the semicircle of the Moon is placed above the circle of the Sun and would appear to be superior, nevertheless we know that the Sun is ruler and King. We see that the Moon in her shape and her proximity rivals the Sun with her grandeur, which is apparent to ordinary men, yet the face, or a semi-sphere of the Moon, always reflects the light of the Sun.

Today my winged horse is coming and I am carrying you off to the moon and on the moon we will eat rose petals.

I like to carry a concealer palette that has a green, a yellow, and a tan color. I like to carry the green one because when I have a pimple, it's good to use that to contrast the red. Then you put the yellow over it, and it helps it disappear.

There's a moon in my body, but I can't see it! A moon and a sun. A drum never touched by hands, beating, and I can't hear it!

I like clothes. I really do. I like going through colors, in a way. I go, 'Greens, man. Greens. Oh, yellow. This yellow feels good.' So it shapes your psyche in a way. But I don't think about it too much, even though I'm interested in it.

When I finally had the chance to make my childhood dream a reality - as a co-founder and chairman of Moon Express - my goal was to broaden participation in lunar exploration, and connect the common person to its results. We plan to send robotic rovers - not humans - to the Moon to search for precious metals and rare minerals on the Moon's surface.

Moon Phase Astrology is a valuable resource on a neglected topic. Through the use of descriptive and poetic titles, insightful text, and inspiring historic quotes, Raven Kaldera illuminates the subtle differences of the often forgotten Moon phases through the twelve zodiac signs. A must read for those walking the path of the Moon.

The moon was gone, but to the magician's eyes the unicorn was the moon, cold and white and very old, lighting his way to safety, or to madness.

Witch, do this for me, Find me a moon made of longing. Then cut it sliver thin, and having cut it, hang it high above my beloved's house, so that she may look up tonight and see it, and seeing it, sigh for me as I sigh for her, moon or no moon.

You're not like the others. I've seen a few; I know. When I talk, you look at me. When I said something about the moon, you looked at the moon.