I turn my girl on like fifty shades of grey.
These little grey cells. It is up to them.
In a sense, the story, or poem or verse or whatever it is you're writing, you can kind of think of it as a kind of projectile. Imagine it is a kind of projectile which has been specially shaped to be aerodynamic, and that your target is the soft grey putty of the reader's brain.
Just because everyone CAN publish a book these days, doesn't mean everyone SHOULD. The world doesn't need 1000 knock-offs of 50 Shades of Grey. I'm not so sure the world even needed ONE 50 Shades of Grey.
What is a woman that you forsake her, And the hearth-fire and the home-acre, To go with the old grey Widow-maker?
The world isn't black and white, Annie, it's shades of grey.
People think that everyone wears black in France; in fact they all wear grey.
Fairy tales thrive on black and white. In life, there's only grey - no bad guys, no good guys. You could be the Cheshire cat, Snow White, a troll pr a pastry-making witch whose diet consists only of little kids, but you'll always be you.
The sea-road is good for wanderers and landless men. There is quenching of thirst on the grey paths of the winds, and the flying clouds to still the sting of lost dreams.
The grey mare is the better horse.
As I grew up, everything started getting grey and dull. I could still remember the amazing intensity of the world I'd lived in as a child, but I thought the dulling of perception was an inevitable consequence of age - just as a lens of the eye is bound gradually to dim. I didn't understand that clarity is in the mind.
Middle age is when your old classmates are so grey and wrinkled and bald they don't recognize you.
My days could be described as an ever changing palette of blues, greens, browns, and golds. Mostly because of surfing and garden-gazing. On tour, the colors are desaturated by florescent lights and dull grey carpets.
A rose looks grey at midnight, but the flame is just asleep. And steel is strong because it knows the hammer and white heat.
Jean Grey, the Phoenix … she finds a way to reincarnate herself constantly, so one never knows.
Anything that is white is sweet. Anything that is brown is meat. Anything that is grey, don't eat.
Mind is not simply the collection of aggregate cells inside your brain. If you are only the grey matter, then when that dies, you won't exist any more. It's not that easy. You exist forever.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures, Russet lawns and fallows grey, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Over to my left is the big grey wall in front of the church. Are we the Thoughts of God? a poster asks. No, I realise. It's the reverse.
While on that old grey stone I sat Under the old wind-broken tree, I knew that One is animate, Mankind inanimate phantasy.