The man bent over his guitar, A shearsman of sorts. The day was green. They said, 'You have a blue guitar, You do not play things as they are.' The man replied, 'Things as they are Are changed upon the blue guitar.' And they said then, 'But play, you must, A tune beyond us, yet ourselves, A tune upon the blue guitar Of things exactly as they are.'
Goddam money. It always ends up making you blue as hell.
J. D. Salinger
The Ford Flex is a really, really cool car. You get inside and you have so much headroom and it's really comfortable to drive and it's real techy inside. You look at the screen and it's blue and you've got all kinds of controls. Everything is digital.
Mr. Trump, you were elected mainly because you found a way to connect with the average blue-collar worker who's sick of the games politicians have been playing for years. Those same blue-collar folks, who go to church, want to feed their families, have to pay their taxes.
When you have Candidate A saying the sky is blue, and Candidate B saying it's a cloudy day, I look outside and I see, well, it's a cloudy day. I should be able to tell my viewers, 'Candidate A is wrong, Candidate B is right,' and not have to say, 'Well, you decide.' Then it would be like I'm an idiot.
Half the shows on Comedy Central are just multi-cam blue sets, and they kind of look like game shows from the '90s. It's like, 'Why do such a bland corporate aesthetic when the sky's the limit with what you can do?'
I would like to find, or I would like a part to come to me that is like the part that Dennis Franz was fortunate to be able to play on 'NYPD Blue,' a sort of similar-looking actor to me, a generic, bald white guy who you would often think of as playing the authority figure. But he was the disgruntled middle-man. That would be a fun character.
J. K. Simmons
The deeper the blue becomes, the more strongly it calls man towards the infinite, awakening in him a desire for the pure and, finally, for the supernatural... The brighter it becomes, the more it loses its sound, until it turns into silent stillness and becomes white.
Autumnal -- nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day ... Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it ... Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses... deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth -- reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall, somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.
Just once I would like to persuade the audience not to wear any article of blue denim. If only they could see themselves in a pair of brown corduroys like mine instead of this awful, boring blue denim.
I always worked mostly in Quebec. I never thought of the States, somehow. I don't know - I don't have blue eyes or blond hair. I thought I didn't fit with the stereotype of America.
Tall, sandy blonde, with sort of blue eyes, skinny in places, fat in others. An average gal.