Pale Quotes

“They talked on into the early morning, the high, pale cast of light in the windows, and they did not think of leaving.”
― Raymond Carver, Cathedral

“To love at a distance and without hope; never to possess; to dream chastely of pale charms and impossible kisses extinguished on the waxen brow of death: ah, that is something like it. A delicious straying away from the world, and never the return. As only the unreal is not ignoble and empty, existence must be admitted to be abominable. Yes, imagination is the only good thing which heaven vouchsafes to the skeptic and pessimist, alarmed by the eternal abjectness of life.”
― Huysmans Joris-Karl Huysmans, Là-Bas

“You don’t need a sad soul
to feel the beauty of a dead grave
Just stay with the pale moon
when darkness wants the night to be brave”
― Munia Khan

“He looked like some plant bleached by darkness.”
― Honoré de Balzac, The Wild Ass's Skin

“It was one of those things they keep in a jar in the tent of a sideshow on the outskirts of a little, drowsy town. One of those pale things drifting in alcohol plasma, forever dreaming and circling, with its peeled, dead eyes staring out at you and never seeing you. It went with the noiselessness of late night, and only the crickets chirping, the frogs sobbing off in the moist swampland. One of those things in a big jar that makes your stomach jump as it does when you see a preserved arm in a laboratory vat.”
― Ray Bradbury, The October Country

“She was a tiny girl—a trinket brunette, very pretty, very pale, and hard as nails.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, While Mortals Sleep

“Oceanic farness treasures tomorrow
Mingled tears lost in the sea of sorrow
Our immortal love will lead us a way
When pale days remain cloudy and grey”
― Munia Khan

“Tsukiko sits on the floor in the center of the room, wearing a red kimono. A beating crimson heart in the pale chamber.”
― Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

“Oh deep winter snow, pale executioner, thou who delights in a slow, torturous death.”
― T. R. Neff, The Falconer and The Wolf

“He was the color of blood, not the springing blood of the heart but the blood that stirs under an old wound that never really healed. A terrible light poured from him like sweat, and his roar started landslides flowing into one another. His horns were pale as scares.”
― Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

“sixty years old and lives for the 3 f's--friends, family, and France.”
― Jamie Ivey

“Tthe thing is, Dr. Foster…the truth is, I like Marina.” He eyed the doctor. “And I actually don’t like you very much.”

Oh, it was worth it. God, it was worth it. To see the perennially calm face turn pale, only slightly, but still pale; to see him blink away the hurt in his watery, pallid blue eyes.”
― Amelia Mangan, Release

“Sometimes all you need in your life is anything strange because strange things can revive your soul just like a cold water freshening your pale face with every splash!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“Frightfully pale and perpetually odd”
― Sue Perkins

“Incomparable wound weeps through a parable
Barrenness I bear into the unbearable
I read the pale sadness from the unreadable
My mind starts breeding from the bare unbreedable”
― Munia Khan, To Evince the Blue

“Hitlers crimes against humanity pale into insignificance when compared to those being committed by modern corporate controlled governments.”
― Steven Magee

“Now, tell me, have you ever heard of upyr? Vampir? Shrtriga?" The words rolled and hissed in his mouth. They reminded me, for no clear reason, of the trip I'd taken with Mr. Locke to Vienna when I was twelve. It'd been February and the city was shadowed, wind-scoured, old. "Well, the name hardly matters. I'm sure you've heard of them in general outline: things that creep out of the black forests of the north and feast on the lifeblood of the living."
He was removing the glove from his left hand as he spoke, tugging on each white fingertip. "Lies spread by superstitious peasants, in the main, repeated in story papers and sold to Victorian urchins." Now his hand was entirely free, fingers so pale I could see blue veins threading them. "Stoker should've been summarily executed, if you ask me."
And he reached toward me. There was perhaps half a second before his fingertip touched me when all the fine hairs on my arm stood straight and my heart seized and I knew, in a scrabbling, animalish way, that I shouldn't let him touch me, that I should scream for help- but it was too late.
His finger was cold against my skin. Beyond cold. An aching, burning, tooth-hurting absence of heat. My body warmth drained desperately toward it, but the cold was ravenous. My lips tried to form words but they felt numb and clumsy, as if I'd been out walking in freezing wind.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“But on that pale hand is no ring of mine,
To no one will I give it, ever.
The new moon’s golden beam forged it for me,
And slipping it on in my sleep, whispered to
me entreatingly;
“Treasure this gift, be proud of the dream!”
I won’t give the ring to anyone, ever.”
― Anna Akhmatova

“You either add colour or paleness to the world!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“There was no subject she could not discuss with Lee. And the few things she could talk about to her father and mother were thin and pale and tired and mostly not even true. There Lee was different also, Abra wanted to tell Lee only true things even when she wasn't quite sure what was true.”
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

“Cardan begins to strip off his shirt, showing an expanse of moon-pale skin and a back with a delicate tracery of faded scars.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“Her skin was so pale it looked like fresh snow in the harsh light.

I realised then that the colour of death, of sorrow, was white.

The lack of colour. Of vibrancy.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“An ancient bond, a wordless dialogue, between the sky's goddess and the waters that embrace her.”
― David Passarelli, Mountain poems: Musings on stone, forest, and snow