Fluorescent Green Quotes

Red was ruby, green was fluorescent, yellow was simply incandescent. Color was life. Color was everything. Color, you see, was the universal sign of magic.

It was like staring into the face of a familiar stranger. You know, that person you see in a crowd and swear you know, but you really don't? Now she was me - the familiar stranger. She had my eyes. They were the same hazel color that could never decide whether it wanted to be green or brown, but my eyes had never been that big and round. Or had they? She had my hair - long and straight and almost as dark as my grandma’s had been before hers had begun to turn silver. The stranger had my high cheekbones, long, strong nose, and wide mouth - more features from my grandma and her Cherokee ancestors. But my face had never been that pale. I’d always been olive-ish, much darker skinned than anyone else in my family. But maybe it wasn’t that my skin was suddenly so white ... maybe it just looked pale in comparison to the dark blue outline of the crescent moon that was perfectly positioned in the middle of my forehead. Or maybe it was the horrid fluorescent lighting. I hoped it was the lighting. I stared at the exotic-looking tattoo. Mixed with my strong Cherokee features it seemed to brand me with a mark of wildness ... as if I belonged to ancient times when the world was bigger ... more barbaric. From this day on my life would never be the same. And for a moment — just an instant—I forgot about the horror of not belonging and felt a shocking burst of pleasure, while deep inside of me the blood of my grandmother’s people rejoiced.

He wore a fluorescent green T-shirt with a large picture of Malcolm Ericson from Stage Dive on the front, and a matching fluorescent pink hat. “Mal for President” had been embroidered on the hat. Guess he really loved the drummer from Stage Dive. A lot.

I make out a schoolbus...glowing orange, green, magenta, lavender, chlorine blue, every fluorescent pastel imaginable in thousands of designs, both large and small, like a cross between Fernand Liger and Dr. Strange, roaring together and vibrating off each other as if somebody had given Hieronymous Bosch fifty buckets of day-glo paint and a 1939 International Harvester schoolbus and told him to go to it.

Please note, you future dead persons, whenever you shut off a fluorescent bulb or a cathode ray tube and see a residual photon-green glow, that glow is trapped human ectoplasm. Ghosts are forever being snared in lightbulbs.

On a very hot day in August of 1994, my wife told me she was going down to the Derry Rite Aid to pick up a refill on her sinus medicine prescription - this is stuff you can buy over the counter these days, I believe. I’d finished writing for the day and offered to pick it up for her. She said thanks, but she wanted to get a piece of fish at the supermarket next door anyway; two birds with one stone and all that. She blew a kiss at me off the palm of her and and went out. The next time I saw her, she was on TV. That’s how you identify the dead here in Derry - no walking down a subterranean corridor with green tiles on the walls and long fluorescent bars overhead, no naked body rolling out of a chilly drawer on casters; you just go into an office marked PRIVATE and look at a TV screen and say yep or nope.

In each room the soul-sucking fluorescent light coated everything in a film of sickness,

surprisingly dramatic glow some minerals gave off when illuminated with ultraviolet light, or “black light.” In daylight, for instance, the mineral fluorite is a drab, chalky color; in a dark room under UV light, though, fluorite glows a brilliant blue; the mineral calcite shines bright red; and aragonite gives off a neon green. If you’ve ever stepped into a teenager’s cavelike room decorated with black-light posters (less common now than they were in the 1970s, when my three sons were growing up), you’ve seen another version of UV fluorescence in action.

It was one of the rare mornings when Dad was around. He’d gotten up early to go cycling, and he was sweaty, standing at the counter in his goony fluorescent racing pants, drinking green juice of his own making. His shirt was off, and he had a black heart-rate monitor strapped across his chest, plus some shoulder brace he invented, which is supposedly good for his back because it pulls his shoulders into alignment when he’s at the computer. “Good morning to you, too,” he said disapprovingly. I must have made some kind of face. But I’m sorry, it’s weird to come down and

Today, the 4-billion-year-old regime of natural selection is facing a completely different challenge. In laboratories throughout the world, scientists are engineering living beings. They break the laws of natural selection with impunity, unbridled even by an organism’s original characteristics. Eduardo Kac, a Brazilian bio-artist, decided in 2000 to create a new work of art: a fluorescent green rabbit. Kac contacted a French laboratory and offered it a fee to engineer a radiant bunny according to his specifications. The French scientists took a run-of-the-mill white rabbit embryo, implanted in its DNA a gene taken from a green fluorescent jellyfish, and voilà! One green fluorescent rabbit for le monsieur. Kac named the rabbit Alba. It is impossible to explain the existence of Alba through the laws of natural selection. She is the product of intelligent design. She is also a harbinger of things to come. If the potential Alba signifies is realised in full – and if humankind doesn’t annihilate itself meanwhile – the Scientific Revolution might prove itself far greater than a mere historical revolution. It may turn out to be the most important biological revolution since the appearance of life on earth. After 4 billion years of natural selection, Alba stands at the dawn of a new cosmic era, in which life will be ruled by intelligent design. If this happens, the whole of human history up to that point might, with hindsight, be reinterpreted as a process of experimentation and apprenticeship that revolutionised the game of life. Such a process should be understood from a cosmic perspective of billions of years, rather than from a human perspective of millennia. Biologists the world over are locked in battle with the intelligent-design movement, which opposes the teaching of Darwinian evolution in schools and claims that biological complexity proves there must be a creator who thought out all biological details in advance. The biologists are right about the past, but the proponents of intelligent design might, ironically, be right about the future. At the time of writing, the replacement of natural selection by intelligent design could happen in any of three ways: through biological engineering, cyborg engineering (cyborgs are beings that combine organic with non-organic parts) or the engineering of in-organic life.

It was one of the rare mornings when Dad was around. He’d gotten up early to go cycling, and he was sweaty, standing at the counter in his goony fluorescent racing pants, drinking green juice of his own making. His shirt was off, and he had a black heart-rate monitor strapped across his chest, plus some shoulder brace he invented, which is supposedly good for his back because it pulls his shoulders into alignment when he’s at the computer. “Good morning to you, too,” he said disapprovingly. I must have made some kind of face. But I’m sorry, it’s weird to come down and see your Dad wearing a bra, even if it is for his posture. Mom came in from the pantry covered with spaghetti pots. “Hello, Buzzy!

Korie: Ray’s daughter, Rachel, and I were best friends, and they were going to Phil’s house for dinner one night. They invited me to go along. I still remembered Willie from camp, so needless to say, I was just dying to go. I begged my parents to let me go with them. They said yes! I even remember what I wore at Willie’s house-a black top with fluorescent green earrings. Don’t judge…it was the eighties. When Rachel and I got to the Robertsons’ house, the first thing Phil said to us was: “Have you met my boys, Jason Silas and Willie Jess? They’ll make good husbands someday. They’re good hunters and fisherman.” I was so nervous. I couldn’t believe this was happening. The other thing I remember about walking in their home was that Phil and Kay had a sign on the door that said, “Honeymoon in progress.” Phil and Kay have never been shy about their honeymooning…another thing that shocked me about their family. Once we had eaten, Willie took us back to his room, which was actually the laundry room. He made us laugh the whole time. He would stick his thumb in his mouth and pretend that he was blowing up his muscles. He did acupressure tricks and showed us our pressure points. This was all very impressive to a couple of fifth-grade girls. After a while, I decided I was going to try to really impress Korie. I started punching the tiles on the ceiling of the laundry room, which was a trick one of my buddies taught me. I’d rear back and just punch my fist through the ceiling and busted tile would fall over onto the floor. I’m sure she was really impressed.

The light travelers felt the familiar tingling and vibrational pull at the top of their heads, and the great rush of cool air pressed in on them. The familiar green fluorescent geometric shapes and symbols collided with their vibrating bodies. As the third spiral drew them up, it dissolved into very fine hair-like ribbons of light that seemed to meld into all things, all time, all space. The teens realized they had access to all knowledge—past, present, future. Using her intent Drew, asked to see the inside of the South Portal at Aramu Muru. In the next second she saw a clash of light and dark, distorted inhuman faces, hellacious other-worldly images.

How is regeneration of the spinal cord in the salamander related to its initial development ? There is now evidence that in the salamander, the steps of progenitor cell-patterning and controlled neurogenesis that naturally regenerate a severed tail largely recapitulate the steps followed during early embryonic development to initially build the central nervous system. For example, ependymal cells are descendants of radial glial cells retained from the earliest developmental stages in regenerating vertebrates. The ependymal tube that gives rise to regenerated spinal cord following salamander tail amputation is very similar in appearance to the early structure of the neural tube of developing amniotes. But how does that recapitulation occur ? By using a transgenic axolotl that expresses green fluorescent proteins (GFPs), they further examined the regenerated spinal cord by replacing a segment of the spinal cord from a typical animal with a piece of the spinal cord from a GFP-expressing animal - that is, one with green fluorescent cells. They found that the implanted cells in the experimental animals regenerated a green spinal cord ! Thus, regeneration may be a more neural stem-cell like, or pluripotent, state as a response to injury.

Encrypted digital watermarking,” explains Balthazar. “Information gets hidden in information, like a code inside the pixels. Only visible with the right kind of key. It’s called steganography. Here,” pointing at the cylinder, “they’re using a similar technique, but done at the nano-level, with DNA as the information carrier. GFP is green fluorescent protein, in this case jellyfish genes woven into the atoms of the metal. The heat from your hand is the key.

According to Don, the best artificial lights you can go for (especially when running this as a business) are called T5 Full Spectrum Fluorescent Lights. He says they are simply the best quality out there and that all the best microgreen business owners use them. He advises against using

It’s green. Not a nice subdued British Racing, more Kawasaki Racing. A bilious shade of lime, bordering on fluorescent.

A rainbow’s spectacle reveals that sunlight is composed of several colors. Of these, red and blue are captured by chlorophyll, whereas carotene and xanthophylls intercept only the blue-green part of the visible spectrum. At In autumn-colored leaves, chlorophyll molecules break down, unmasking the yellow carotene and xanthophylls. Some leaves, such as those of liquidambar (left), turn red when anthocyanin pigments add the final touch to the tree’s colorful spectacle. The inherited color patterns of leaf variegation result from the various pigments occurring separately or in combinations in mesophyll cells. Shown here are striped inch plant wavelengths represented by these colors, the energy of light is transferred, via the pigments, into the synthesis of foods. Artificial illumination is only effective if it provides the blue and red wavelengths absorbed by chloroplast pigments. Ideally, incandescent bulbs, which radiate abundant red, should be supplemented with selected fluorescent tubes radiating blue wavelengths. To achieve photosynthetic yields comparable to those in natural conditions, several lights are needed to provide high intensities, but care must be taken to control the build-up of heat.

Whoa, Melbourne. Where have you been hiding?” Trey strolled over to us and began liberally filling a cup with the fluorescent green punch. “You look badass. And hot.

I look just like one of Brianna’s UGLY finger paintings. Because now I’m completely covered with: 1. brown peanut-butter stains 2. purple jelly stains 3. white soap suds AND 4. bright fluorescent-green hand soap from the girls’ bathroom.

Toward the final hallway, we found an attraction that hadn’t been there in previous years. Or maybe in other years we were more innocent and less observant, more eager to run to the next delight. Whatever the reason, as we neared the exit we were caught between two giant mirrors that faced each other, reflecting the image between them back and forth ad infinitum. We had dressed alike as we often did, or as often as cheap clothing and Goodwill bags would allow. We had on pale colored shorts and plain pink T’s, our heads covered with the fluorescent green bandanas we’d purchased, and flip flops on our feet. I was browner and a little heavier than Minnie—the chemo made her more susceptible to sunburn and killed her appetite, but other than that, we were still identical. Minnie and I stared at the rows of twins that had no end, one behind another in smaller and smaller replicas of the original. Bonnie and Minnie forever . . . and ever and ever. I reached for Minnie’s hand, and all our reflections joined hands as well, making the hair rise on my neck. Maybe it should have been comforting, the thought of the two of us going on forever, but it wasn’t. “There are twins, triplets, quadruplets, quintuplets, right? But what do you call that?” Minnie said, her eyes glued to the mirror in front of us. “Scary as hell,” I answered

One green fluorescent rabbit for le monsieur. Kac named the rabbit Alba.

Eduardo Kac, a Brazilian bio-artist, decided in 2000 to create a new work of art: a fluorescent green rabbit.

scientists took a run-of-the-mill white rabbit embryo, implanted in its DNA a gene taken from a green fluorescent jellyfish,

Danny’s face, suddenly awash in fluorescent green, grinned at her. “And then God said, ‘Let there be awesome green disco lights, and so there was.

Ms. Buck, I feel like a corpse this morning. What do you advise?" Belva raised an eyebrow. "You might try putting down the bottle one of these nights." Lee was ready for this. "That might help long term, but I'm looking for something more immediate. As in, right now." Belva sighed. "I'm not sure you deserve it, but I don't like seeing you in pain." She dipped into the cooler and pulled out a vial of a bright green liquid. Lee had only been joking, but she was drawn to the vial now, her mouth watering. She took it from Belva, uncapped it, and shot it back. The taste was of plants picked too young--- sweet, raw, and nearly fizzing with life. She waited for something to happen. Nothing. Belva watched her intently, and Lee wondered at her curiosity. She'd probably given this hangover remedy thousands of times. And then Lee felt it. The smell of wet dust and the hum of the fluorescents and the staleness inside of her receded. In its place, the smell of dewy grass and the silent spill of sunshine and the feeling of a new day beginning spread through her. Like a phoenix, she was resurrected.

It's just the two of us. She shows me more secret passageways through the woods until the trees clear to reveal a large, moonlit meadow. We stop at the edge. Emma's looking at me expectantly, and at first I'm not sure what I'm supposed to see. I see tall, unkempt grass surrounded by trees. Then, like my eyes are playing tricks on me, fluorescent green lights flash on and off in the field, some of them rising up like bubbles in a pot of boiling water, some shooting across and lighting up the ground below them. "Whoa." "Pretty, right?" Emma says, turning her neck slowly from me to the meadow. "I almost never see fireflies." "I did some research, and they're not even supposed to exist west of Kansas. I have no idea why there's so many of them here." We walk through the field together, and in the blinking green lights I can see Emma's hand inches from my own, I see the curves and dips of her face in profile and I wonder how it is that I can find the space between things beautiful. Emma stops for a second and reaches into the waist-high grass, her hand disappearing in the dark. She pulls it back out to reveal a berry I have never seen before, not in the smorgasbord of rainbow-colored fruit at American grocery stores and definitely not anywhere in Mexico. It is the size of a child's fist, and the skin is prickly, like a lychee's. "When I was a kid, if I was mad at my mom, I'd hide out here for the day, picking out berries," Emma says. "I had no way of knowing if they were poisonous, but I'd feast on them anyway." She digs her thumb into the skin to reveal a pulpy white interior. She takes a bite out of it and then hands it to me. It's sweet and tangy and would be great in a vinaigrette, as a sauce, maybe along with some roasted duck. "I don't even think anyone else knows about these, because I've never seen them anywhere else. I'm sure she'd put it on her menu if she found out about them, but I like keeping this one thing to myself." We grab them by the handful, take them with us down the hill toward the lake. Sitting on the shore, gentle waves lapping at our ankles, we peel the berries one by one. A day or two ago, I thought of Emma as pretty. Tonight, her profile outlined by a full moon, she looks beautiful to me. I wish I could drive the thought away, but there it is anyway. The water---or something else about these nights---really does feel like it can cure hopelessness.

They left Chickasaw Gardens and drove west with the traffic toward downtown, into the fading sun. They held hands, but said little. Mitch opened the sunroof and rolled down the windows. Abby picked through a box of old cassettes and found Springsteen. The stereo worked fine. “Hungry Heart” blew from the windows as the little shiny roadster made its way toward the river. The warm, sticky, humid Memphis summer air settled in with the dark. Softball fields came to life as teams of fat men with tight polyester pants and lime-green and fluorescent-yellow shirts laid chalk lines

I also collected oddities and one of those was a human skull, a real one. I'll not say who gave it to me, in case they are still involved in the medical world and get them in trouble, but, needless to say, the person whose skull it was signed his rights away to it, and I got it. What made things worse was that I had some rabbit fur and cut it up to look like a Mohican and glued it to the skull: fabulous, and then I got hold of some fluorescent green lights which are used on aircraft and glued them into the eye sockets; perfect fit and, as soon as night came and a light hit them, bang! Glowy green lights in a human skull. The skull used to sit on my window ledge, looking out, and for a time nobody took offence; it was a continuing joke on camp. The nutty Skin has a skull, but they didn’t know it was real unless they asked.

She pointed to a pair leaning against the counter next to hers. They were slightly shorter than I was, chipped and scarred from the abuse of a few hundred previous renters, and they were a disturbing fluorescent green. “Do you have anything less bright?” I asked the girl behind the counter. “You’re lucky we have anything left in your size, period,” she told me. “Besides, you want bright skis as a beginner. It makes them easier to find again after you wipe out.” “You mean if he wipes out,” Zoe corrected. “No. I mean when,” the ski girl said.

Nora's walk to work was a kind of labor of love, too, of that love for the city that occasionally wavered or dimmed but had never gone away. She tended to see always the same people, the Sikh bicyclist with his two small children in a seat on the back, the man who ran while nonchalantly juggling three fluorescent green tennis balls. It was as though they all knew one another without knowing anything about one another, so that if for a week or two Tennis Ball Man did not appear Nora would find herself wondering if he was on vacation, or had moved to another neighborhood, or something worse, a broken hip , a heart attack.

I DON’T THINK so.” I blinked upward into Cass’s face. His hair was haloed by a fluorescent ceiling light. I was in a glaringly bright room with puke-green walls and a tiled floor. My arm was attached to an IV stand, and by the wall was a wheeled table with beeping medical machines. “Huh?” I said. “You called me Mom. I said, ‘I don’t think so.’” “Sorry,” I said. “The Dream.

Isaac studied the huge, airy room and went to stand in front of a wall of watercolor apples- each one was set off by a colored background ranging from deep blue to fluorescent green to soft pink. He turned to ask Sanna about it, but she was still in the kitchen, pulling salt-crusted baked potatoes from the oven. Bass kneeled on a bar stool and stirred sliced apples with cinnamon and sugar. On the counter were the fixings for a baked potato bar, with cheese, bacon, broccoli, sour cream, and minced chives. "Are the apples above the fireplace meaningful?" Einars bent lower to talk to Bass, as they layered the apples into a dish, forcing Sanna to answer the question. "Those are all the apples we grow in our orchard." There were at least thirty. He hadn't even known there were that many varieties of apple in the world. "Did you paint them?" "Some of them. Most were done by much older relatives.

Start with a 12- to 16-hour overnight fast daily. Incorporate into your diet phytochemicals (see Chapter 7), known to activate longevity pathways, including those in strawberries, turmeric, broccoli, green tea, pomegranate, Himalayan Tartary buckwheat, and mushrooms. Take a 2-minute cold shower or a cold plunge every morning, followed by short bursts of sprinting three or four times a week. Do strength training for 20 to 30 minutes three times a week. Add a sauna or steam as often as you can. Get blue-blocker glasses for the evening and replace your LED and fluorescent light bulbs with smart bulbs that adjust the light spectrum for the time of day, full spectrum in the day and red light for nighttime. Try a home red-light-therapy device. Explore intravenous ozone therapy or get an inexpensive home unit for rectal ozone therapy. Consider a course of hyperbaric oxygen therapy or try a Cellgym if there is one in your area or a low-oxygen exercise mask, which are available for $50. These tools are safe and available to us now, and they can provide a host of health and longevity benefits.