Purple Amethyst Quotes

There was the deep sky blue of the amethyst with its velvety sheen, the shine of the vivid red ruby and the rich purple of the sapphire tinted with rose flashes.

purple threaded evening. a torn goddess laying on the roof. milk sky. lavender hued moan against hot asphalt. the thickness of evening presses into your throat. polaroids taped to the ceiling. ivy pouring out of the cracks in the wall. i found my courage buried beneath molding books and forgot to lock the door behind me. the old house never forgets. opened my mouth and a dandelion fell out. reached behind my wisdom teeth and found sopping wet seeds. pulled all of my teeth out just to say i could. he drowned himself in a pill bottle and the orange really brought out his demise. lay me down on a bed of ground spices. there’s a song there, i know it. amethyst geode eyes. cracked open. no one saw it coming. october never loved you. the moon still doesn’t understand that.

I stand on the corner of the block slinging amethyst rocks. Drinkin 40’s of mother earth’s private nectar stock. Dodgin cops. ’Cause Five-O be the 666 and I need a fix of that purple rain. The type of shit that drives membranes insane. Oh yeah, I’m in the fast lane. Snorting candy yams. That free my body and soul and send me like Shazaam! Never question who I am. God knows. And I know God, personally. In fact, he lets me call him me. I be one with rain and stars and things, with dancing feet and watermelon wings. I bring the sunshine and the moon. And wind blows my tune.

And there were ruined castles covered with ivy - the badge of the old order, clinging to its own; and into the ivy doves dived, seeming to leave in their wake a trail of amethyst, just as a clump of bottle-green leaves is shot with purple by the knowledge that it hides violets.

Feathers glittering the color of amethyst against the dying light of the day, long tails trailing in the breeze like kites, wings shimmering with every beat. They looked so oblivious to their majesty, like flying and painting the sky with purple was just something they did, rather than something that made my knees shake.

It is that time of evening when the sky shifts from indigo to violet. In sympathy, the sea has darkened to purple—a color that could earn the Homeric epithet “wine-dark.” Lights are just beginning to come on around the shoreline, like beads being strung, one by one, on a curved diadem crowning the amethyst brow of the bay.

A flaming red flapper dress, a sleek black dress with full, satin purple sleeves and a matching flounce, a summery cotton frock with a cheerful red poppy print, and a musketeer's gold-trimmed jacket tumbled out of the pile of clothing. A mound of scarves fluttered onto the bed. Marge fingered the frayed, tasseled edge of a silk jacquard scarf in shades of amethyst and emerald green.

He paid me another visit this afternoon. I invited him to accommodate himself in one of Mrs. Lippett's electric-blue chairs, and then sat down opposite to enjoy the harmony. He was dressed in a mustard-colored homespun, with a dash of green and a glint of yellow in the weave, a "heather mixture" calculated to add life to a dull Scotch moor. Purple socks and a red tie, with an amethyst pin, completed the picture. Clearly, your paragon of a doctor is not going to be of much assistance in

Parisians gasped when Theo paired brown with black- and then found themselves even more shocked when she wore a black corded silk evening gown sewn with amethysts, and later, a purple riding habit with sour-green gloves. They gasped... and rushed to imitate. What the French loved most were Theo's epigrammatic rules. They were collected like precious jewels, and even the poorest shopgirls ripped the lace from their Sunday frocks when she was reported to have remarked, "Wear lace to be baptized. Period.

She couldn’t help but think of Falco. She touched the amethyst necklace that he had given her, which she was wearing beneath her bodice. She had grabbed the loop of purple stones at the last minute, slipping it around her neck but tucking it out of sight. She’d told herself she only wore it because she meant to return it to Falco the next time their paths crossed. But now her certainty from last night that Falco was a murderer began to dissipate. He couldn’t be a murderer. He couldn’t. Maybe he was painting something for the creepy physician. A special canvas that his master was insisting he keep a secret. She had to find him again and force him to be honest with her. She was sure he had an explanation for what she had seen and heard. “Signore, pietà.” Madalena recited the words along with the rest of the congregation. Cass sighed. Everyone else was apologizing to God for their sins, and here she was dreaming up some new ones. Cass took a seat on the cushioned bench and tried to focus as the priest began the first reading. It was something about honesty. Fitting.

She scanned the masks, and her eyes were immediately drawn to one in a deep shade of purple with shimmering royal-blue sequins and feathers in the same colors. Faux sapphires and amethysts dangled from its sides. "May I have this mask, please?" The man handed it to Rosalia. "You chose the perfect color to complement your beautiful dark hair, signorina." "Grazie." She blushed slightly at his compliment.

She wore amethyst-purple woolen slacks paired with a bright yellow leather jacket, like a human being hoping to become an iris.

of a hidden panel in his wardrobe. It was only when the Card was free that I understood its color. Rich and royal purple, like an amethyst stone I’d once seen on Market Street. A second Card hidden away, nearly as rare as the Nightmare—and just as terrifying. The Mirror. The Nightmare clawed at the inside of my head, as if pressing against bars. I felt a smile stretch across his face, his tail flicking. Even more delightful. Of all the Providence Cards chronicled in The Old Book of Alders, the Mirror had frightened me most as a girl. I backed into the door, afraid to even be close to the Mirror Card. So much dread, the Nightmare said. So much might. To see beyond the veil—what wicked delight. There’s nothing delightful about being invisible, I said. Or seeing the dead. He was quiet a moment. Some would give anything to speak to loved ones passed.

Very well. You won’t mind if I do, will you?” Hallway light flooded the dark room when I opened the door. I turned, waiting to follow Ravyn’s lead, but he was suddenly gone—vanished. Eyes wide, I yelped. Faint laughter sounded from the space the Captain of the Destriers had stood. “How—Are you still—” “I’m right here,” Ravyn said, making me jump. I reached out, expecting nothing. But my fingers collided with the silk of his tunic, pressing into Ravyn’s taut stomach muscles. I retracted my hand immediately. “Right. Erm, sorry.” “Better if I’m not seen,” he explained. “I’m supposed to be monitoring the crowd this evening. Can you see the Card?” The purple light floated seemingly on its own accord—like an amethyst fairy on the wind. “Yes.” “Good. Now pick your jaw up off the floor and follow me.

AMETHYST  (A'METHYST)   n.s.[al  contrary to wine, or contrary to drunkenness; so called, either because it is not quite of the colour of wine, or because it was imagined to prevent inebriation.] A precious stone of a violet colour, bordering on purple. The

Chapter 1 A lot of people lounge by pools in L.A., but few of them are truly immortal, no matter how hard they pretend with plastic surgery and exercise. Doyle was truly immortal and had been for over a thousand years. A thousand years of wars, assassinations, and political intrigue, and he’d been reduced to being eye candy in a thong bathing suit by the pool of the rich and famous. He lay at the edge of the pool, wearing almost nothing. Sunlight glittered across the blue, blue water of the pool. The light broke in a jagged dance across his body, as if some invisible hand stirred the light, turning it into a dozen tiny spotlights that coaxed Doyle’s dark body into colors I’d never known his skin could hold. He wasn’t black the way a human being is black, but more the way a dog is black. Watching the play of light on his skin, I realized I’d been wrong. His skin gleamed with blue highlights, a shine of midnight blue along the long muscular sweep of his calf, a flare of royal blue like a stroke of deep sky touched his back and shoulder. Purple to shame the darkest amethyst caressed his hip. How could I ever have thought his skin monochrome? He was a miracle of colors and light, strapped across a body that rippled and moved with muscles honed in wars fought centuries before I was born.

Violet eyes. Purple violence. She’s the center of an amethyst. Plain on the outside, but the moment you crack her open—the moment you get a glimpse of what’s hidden—you’re never going to see anything more beautiful for the rest of your life.

My indigo Wisteria remind me it is February now! just like the Crystal Amethyst, looking cold but warm underneath, these purple lucid dreams are raising my morning spirit purifying, healing fear teaching us the art of freedom and letting go!!

beryls which display the best qualities of the most valuable gems, including the subtle-fires of the ruby, the flashing-purple of the amethyst and the sea-green tint of the emerald’. The most valuable beryls displayed aquamarine colours, but Pliny also mentions golden-yellow chrysoberyls and vivid-blue hyacinthizonte.30 For many Romans these Indian gems became an indispensable mark of their status. Beryl rings were cherished items and many

Ancient Greek mythology claims that Dionysus, the god of wine, had been insulted by a passing mortal and swore that you would take revenge on the next one that came this way. He conjured up a team of ferocious tigers just as a beautiful young maiden was approaching. The maiden’s name was Amethyst, and she was on her way to pay tribute to the goddess Artemis. As Dionysus released the Tigers, Artemis turned Amethyst into a statue of pure crystalline to protect her from the tiger’s claws. Upon seeing the beautiful statue, Dionisio wept wine–filled tears of regret, which stained the statue a deep shade of purple. From that moment on, the amethyst stone was known to hold significant protective properties. Apparently, as the myth recounts, amethysts could even protect you from the wrath of gods themselves. - Dr. Davidson

Mother wants to sell the amethyst ring Father brought back from America, where he trained in the navy before I was born. She wants to buy needles and thread, fabric and sandals from the camp's black market. I have never seen her without this purple rock. I can't fall asleep unless I twist the ring and count circles. Brother Quang says, NO! What's the point of new shirts and sandals if you lose the last tangible remnant of love? I don't understand what he said but I agree.

He returned, holding something in between his teeth. After hopping up on the table, he unceremoniously dropped it onto the workstation in front of me.  “This is it?” I asked, holding up a small silver ring, the purple amethyst sparkling in the light. The setting was gorgeous—the entire piece was, really.  He cleared his throat. “It was my mother’s. It’s the only thing I could think of. She gave it to me before she passed away.”  So he’d lost a parent, too. I knew firsthand how heartbreaking that was, and I wondered who had been by his side. Who’d helped him through the grief?