Colour Doesn't Matter Quotes

The mind is an incredibly complex machine, Stuart. Nobody fully understands the workings of it. Everyone has their own perception of the lives they lead and the environment in which they live them. For most of us, the perceptions are complimentary, so we accept reality as a collective experience. For instance, who is to say you see the colour of this t-shirt in the same way I do. We both perceive it as green, but whether or not we see the same colour, we can’t say. It doesn’t matter though as long as we all agree. Nevertheless, if a person comes in and says my t-shirt is red and everyone else says it is green then we have to question his or her perception of my t-shirt. There has to be a reason why their perception is different to ours. Of course, in that case, we would suspect colour blindness, a condition in which the receptors in the eye send erroneous signals to the brain. For whatever reason, Stuart, we are all seeing green, but you see red. We need to find out what is causing your brain to do that.

When you eat a chocolate bar, sure, the wrapper might be pretty, full of bold colours and fancy details ... but ultimately, what do you care about? The wrapper? Or what's inside the wrapper? The chocolate. I care about the chocolate inside the wrapper. Exactly! For me, it's the same with people. I don't care about what's on the outside. I care about what's on the inside. Someone's mind. Their heart and soul. For me, it doesn't matter whether they're a man or a woman. That's only the wrapper they come in. What I really care about is the chocolate. It's called being pan-sexual. ~ Isla

We are equal, we re all Humans, we are all related in some way. It doesn't matter what colour our skins is, our race, beliefs, gender, age, we are all equal. I say now is the right time to unite, if we do not unite soon something bads gonna happen

Dear child, it matters not if the boy loves you. It only matters if you love the Sun, and the Rain, and the Donut, and the Cat, and the colour Purple. It only matters if you love having this one precious life. It doesn't matter if the boy doesn't love you.

For the dog, colour doesn't matter, reputation doesn't matter, wealth doesn't matter. Dogs see us all as equals. They live in the present in a world of emotion. They know if you are true and trustworthy, and what they care about most is the love you have in your heart and the kindness you show them.

Broad minded people dream bigger, they are very keen to meet others and share their dreams. It doesn't matter if you are an introvert, extrovert, what colour you are or what gender you are. Their mission is to offload what's inside of them and leave footprints wherever they go. These are called the world impactors.

It doesn't matter what age you are, what colour you are, or what race you are. As humans, we all want to be loved and appreciated for who we are. We have values and beliefs, and it is with these values and beliefs that we are different -- that life gets to be amazing. Never try to change people for who they are, appreciate them instead.

I have never been this white anywhere in the world. I've never had the most obvious, most useful kind of privilege as soon as I've walked into a room. This, though, is maybe what it's like to be white. People who look like me in India are assumed to be higher class, in better socioeconomic standing, more educated. This is sometimes true, but only because the world here is built to benefit those with light skin and punish those with dark skin, much like the world at home. The caste system is largely defunct in the areas we visit, but that doesn't mean that I and my family aren't still benefiting from decades of racial advantage.

We never compromise when we take up a job. We don’t compromise when we buy new jeans. So why should we compromise on relationships that are supposed to be the most important aspect of our lives? When I go to buy something and it doesn’t fit I don’t say, “at least” the colour is right, or if we have to buy a house, we don’t give a crore and say “at least” it’s in a nice locality even if it is too small. We don’t take anything in our lives we’re not completely satisfied and happy with. So why do we take crap from men? Or for that matter, crappy men? Why are we saying “at least” he is funny, or “at least” he is rich? Why do women compromise on the biggest thing of all? The men!

Life is pretty short yet magnanimous if we know just how to live right. It isn't that easy, it takes a lot of our soul, sometimes too many broken pieces to finally come together in binding a masterpiece that smiles like a solitary star forever gazing around at the music of an eternal cosmos. The most brutal yet beautiful truth about Life is that It is marked, marked with Time where every moment takes us closer to death, it doesn't have to sound or feel bad or scary because death is the most inevitable truth in this mortal world. While the knowledge of death jolts our mind with the uncertainty of Life, clutches us in the emotion of fear to think of pain or the loss of bonds, when we acknowledge that as a part of our souls' journey and take every moment as our precious gift, a blessing to experience this Life with its beautiful garden of emotions blossoming with wonderful smiles that we can paint on others, then we make our Life magnanimous, then we make even the very face of death as that of an angel coming to take us to a different voyage, soaked in a lot of memories and experiences beautifully binding our soul. I have realised that when we live each day as if it's the last day of our life, we become more loving and gentle to everyone around and especially to our own selves. We forgive and love more openly, we grace and embrace every opportunity we get to be kind, to stay in touch with everything that truly matters. I have realised that when we rise every morning with gratitude knowing that the breath of air still passes through our body, just in the mere understanding that we have one more day to experience Life once again, we stay more compassionate towards everything and everyone around and invest more of our selves into everything and everyone that truly connect and resonate with our soul. I have realised that when we consciously try to be good and kind, no matter however bad or suffocating a situation is we always end up taking everything at its best holding on to the firm grip of goodness, accepting everything as a part of our souls' lesson or just a turn of Time or Fate and that shapes into our strength and roots our core with the truest understanding of Life, the simple act of going on and letting go. Letting go of anything and everything that chains our Soul while going on with a Heart open to Love and a Soul ready to absorb all that falls along the pathway of this adventure called Life. I have realised that when we are kind and do anything good for another person, that gives us the most special happiness, something so pure that even our hearts don't know how deep that joy permeates inside our soul. I have realised that at the end of the day we do good not because of others but because of our own selves, for if tomorrow death comes to grace me I hope to smile and say I have Lived, loved unconditionally and embraced forgiveness, kindness and goodness and all the other colours of Love with every breath I caught, I have lived a Life magnanimous. So each time someone's unkind towards you, hold back and smile, and try to give your warmth to that person. Because Kindness is not a declaration of who deserves it, it's a statement of who you are. So each time some pieces of your heart lay scattered, hold them up and embrace everyone of them with Love. Because Love is not a magic potion that is spilled from a hollow space, it's a breath of eternity that flows through the tunnel of your soul. So each time Life puts up a question of your Happiness, answer back with a Smile of Peace. Because Happiness is not what you look for in others, it's what you create in every passing moment, with the power of Life, that is pretty short when we see how counted it stands in days but actually turns out absolutely incredibly magnanimous when loved and lived in moments.

MATERIAL SUBSTANCE was criticized by Berkeley with such telling effect that his name has reverberated through all subsequent philosophy. Berkeley's treatment of the notion of matter is so well known as to need hardly more than a mention. So far from denying the external world which we know, Berkeley corroborated it. It was the scholastic notion of a material substance unapproachable by us, BEHIND the external world, deeper and more real than it, and needed to support it, which Berkeley maintained to be the most effective of all reducers of the external world to unreality. Abolish that substance, he said, believe that God, whom you can understand and approach, sends you the sensible world directly, and you confirm the latter and back it up by his divine authority. Berkeley's criticism of 'matter' was consequently absolutely pragmatistic. Matter is known as our sensations of colour, figure, hardness and the like. They are the cash-value of the term. The difference matter makes to us by truly being is that we then get such sensations; by not being, is that we lack them. These sensations then are its sole meaning. Berkeley doesn't deny matter, then; he simply tells us what it consists of. It is a true name for just so much in the way of sensations. Locke, and later Hume, applied a similar pragmatic criticism to the notion of SPIRITUAL SUBSTANCE. I will only mention Locke's treatment of our 'personal identity.' He immediately reduces this notion to its pragmatic value in terms of experience. It means, he says, so much consciousness,' namely the fact that at one moment of life we remember other moments, and feel them all as parts of one and the same personal history. Rationalism had explained this practical continuity in our life by the unity of our soul-substance. But Locke says: suppose that God should take away the consciousness, should WE be any the better for having still the soul-principle? Suppose he annexed the same consciousness to different souls, | should we, as WE realize OURSELVES, be any the worse for that fact? In Locke's day the soul was chiefly a thing to be rewarded or punished. See how Locke, discussing it from this point of view, keeps the question pragmatic: Suppose, he says, one to think himself to be the same soul that once was Nestor or Thersites. Can he think their actions his own any more than the actions of any other man that ever existed? But | let him once find himself CONSCIOUS of any of the actions of Nestor, he then finds himself the same person with Nestor. ... In this personal identity is founded all the right and justice of reward and punishment. It may be reasonable to think

My Order emerged,” he breathed and the terror in his voice told me all I needed to about what had happened. “You’re not a Dragon?” I asked, my own voice cracking with fear for him. Father would have been more than furious to discover that his son was anything other than a full blooded Dragon Shifter. It was a matter of pride and respect; he ridiculed families with mixed blood, he believed wholeheartedly in the superiority of our kind. One of his sons being anything other was totally unthinkable. Xavier shook his head slowly, trying to withdraw his hand from mine as footsteps sounded on the stairs behind me but I refused to release him. “It doesn’t change anything for me,” I growled. “You’re still my brother, I don’t care if you’re a Werewolf or a Vampire or a-” “So he told you, did he?” Father’s cold voice came from the doorway behind me and the hairs along the back of my neck stood to attention in warning. Xavier snatched his hand out of mine, blinking away the evidence of the tears which hadn’t even fallen. I stood before him, placing myself between him and Father. “It doesn’t matter,” I said firmly, though the simmering rage in my father’s eyes told a very different story. “I’m the oldest. I’m the first in line anyway, Xavier never wanted to challenge me for that role so-” “Yes, I still have my Heir but I’ve lost the spare. Did he tell you exactly what Order he is?” Father snarled, his eyes changing to their Dragon form and a trail of smoke leaving his nostrils. He was so angry about this that he was battling against the urge to shift. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look so close to the edge before. “Not yet. But surely it’s not the end of the world if-” “Shift,” Father commanded, his gaze passing me to land on my brother. Xavier got out of his chair and backed up, shaking his head in panic. His skin looked odd though, like there was light shining from within it, trying to break free. “I told you, I’ll get control of it; I won’t shift ever,” he said anxiously. “No one will ever find out that I’m-” “SHIFT!” Father bellowed, using fear to force the change on him. Xavier cried out in panic as the light beneath his skin grew to a powerful glow and he bucked forward as his Order form took over. I backed up as his form changed, giving him room to become- “Fucking hell,” I breathed, my eyes widening in panic. “My thoughts precisely,” Father hissed venomously. Xavier had transformed into a lilac Pegasus complete with golden horn and rainbow patterned wings. His coat shone with glitter in the light of my magical orbs and his wide, horsey eyes looked back at us fearfully. I stared at him with my mouth hanging open, scrambling for something, anything to say. “I... didn’t know we had any recessive Pegasus genes in the bloodline...maybe he's linked to the constellation,” I muttered, unsure what else I could say. Father hated the weaker, more common Orders. He was a Dragon through and through; he loved power, invoking fear and breathing fire. A Pegasus was about as far as you could get to the opposite end of the Order spectrum. They were flying horses who pooped glitter, granted wishes and were... cute. Xavier hadn’t even been lucky enough to have a dark coloured coat, it was lilac. Lilac! (DARIUS POV)

Religion, colour, anatomy . . . It doesn’t matter compared to the quality of the person.

But hang on a minute. Since when was ‘random’ associated with colour and ‘definite’ with drawing? Since when did drawing and colour become ciphers for order and chaos? Perhaps it doesn’t matter: the prejudice is in place.

Dearest Almighty God, I don't know where he is, I don't know who he is, I don't know if I have ever met him, or if we have crossed paths, I don't even know if he exists, but what I do know is that You won't let my Heart be a Void. What I know is when You put a dream in Someone's Heart You don't let that disappear just like that, You have your reason to even let that dream shape in, and mine has always been the most simplest and the most humblest of all. It doesn't matter how archaic or regressive it seems I would always imagine the most beautiful of all pathways is the route where two hearts connect and grow old together, when two souls find a Home together and that would always be my dearest prayer, and so I know that You know how that Prayer churns my Soul. I pray before You to give me Hope, to give me the heart to wait in Patience as You work on him and send him to my path in Your way for in You I trust blindly. I pray that You bless all lone hearts and give them courage and wisdom to learn the true meaning of Togetherness, to understand the true meaning of Companionship and above all the sanctity of Home, where children are born of Love, where hearts are united in Trust and Respect, so yes I pray with all my Heart that wherever he is, whoever he is, You bless him with my aura and make him grow in ways that only You can, that You paint his dreams and bless them in Your colour of Hope and Success, that You hold his hand and let him win in life in ways that You alone can. I know I would know my deepest Happiness in his smile, for I know whoever he is, wherever he is, his soul and mine are one, and soon in Your Timing, You will find Him in my Life, for Our Home would be Your Smile of Love. Until then, I will stay in Faith, praying for Him every single moment in my Heart and Soul. - an Old Soul trusting in God, always.

There isn't anything bad in eating an white ice cream it really doesn't matter is it in a pail or in a cornet. (You are now thinking... oh, oh, oh an ice cream, I can do one for you. I have loads of just come to "Where I live" and I can fill you with a lot of ice cream. You won't want to go home...). The banana eating, what's bad?? To go in a public and to eat one normal banana,... I'm talking about the fruit called banana which is yellow as an a colour... (O..., o..., (off I hate this moment as far as now when everything in your head is about sex and you just connect it), "I'm sure that you like it", I have one in my home and it's one large you will like it and in the end there is little suprise for the people with patience)... What's bad or awful to eat an a cucumber???? OFFF, OFF, OFF you just again did this you connected it with this... what's bad of choosing sour cream or milk? Off, off, again and again all the time with this pornography it's like it's planted in your mind, like a bomb and in replace of the time you connect everything with pussy and dick. One moment with your dick sperm making it as an a milk, sour cream, ice cream so many faces… Then you connect it and with banana because in reality the banana is kind of fruit which can be sucked so you put replace of banana, your dick... even when you write "woman eating banana" in the google engine it will show some kind a pornography. But why do you connect it?? Even with the pussy which cums, how woman touches it... WOW, WOW!

Our business as teachers is to make full use of what is in that treasure cave, rather than ignoring it, or pretending it doesn’t matter, or thinking that the children won’t appreciate it enough to make the effort worthwhile. The real danger is that a generation raised on grey crayons may forget that other colours even exist.

For the dog, colour doesn't matter, reputation doesn't matter, wealth doesn't matter. Dogs see us all as equals. They live in the present and in a world of emotion. They know if you are true and trustworthy, and what they care about most if the love you have in your heart and the kindness you show them.

Each morning I start again with the questions, easy stuff, like colour – I’ve always been drawn to colour. [...] I interview myself as a way to discover the new me. What colours do you like? [...] Why do you like those colours? ‘All I could think about after chemo was the colour purple, I decorated the whole Christmas tree in purple and wrapped every present in purple, it felt healing.’ Good, there’s a story there, a meaningful answer. Make a story out of your experiences. [...] I reignite my love of detail in clothes: a puffed sleeve, a side or a front zip on a leather jacket, the shape of a heel or toe of a boot. I’m enjoying looking: I used to look at everything and everyone. I notice marks on a stone, the haggard sea-worn groynes; it doesn’t matter what you like, just be truthful and observant, I tell myself. I don’t let myself off the hook; if I make a statement, I have to justify it.

MAYBE IT WOULD be a good idea to rearrange the flat a bit,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve been thinking. You and Kendall might like your own den, more of a play space. So how about us turning the bedroom into your room. It’s purple too, your favourite colour.’ ‘Lilac isn’t purple.’ ‘It’s light purple, Miss Picky. Anyway, I was thinking of getting a little portable telly for you two. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then the living room could be more – well, my room.’ ‘And you want to put a socking great bed in it for you and Jake,’ I said coldly. ‘No I don’t! Well. I was thinking about one of them sofa beds. Then if Jake should want to stay over . . .’ ‘Why can’t he stay in his own place?’ ‘He hasn’t exactly got his own place,’ said Mum. ‘He’s staying with a friend at the moment.’ ‘Why can’t he get his own place, then?’ I said. ‘Because he hasn’t got any money. He’s a student.’ ‘They give them rooms in the university, don’t they?’ ‘Only the first year. For God’s sake, Lola Rose, give it a rest. He’s coming to live with us and that’s that. I don’t see why you’ve got such a problem with it. We’re in love, can’t you see?’ ‘He doesn’t love you. He’s just shacking up with us because he hasn’t got anywhere else. And you spend a fortune on him. Our fortune.’ Mum slapped me straight across the face. Kendall was watching. He cried. I didn’t cry. I stared Mum out. ‘You only slapped me because you know it’s true.’ ‘I slapped you because you’re a spoilt little cow,’ Mum snapped. ‘What’s the matter with you, Lola Rose? You can’t be jealous, can you?