Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Highlights. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Highlights Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Maryjanice Davidson,David Levithan,Paul Klee,Roy Clark,Shawn Michaels for you to enjoy and share.
Interesting shade #23 Lush Golden Blonde highlights. Heyyyyyy ... The woman in the awful suit was me! The woman in the cheap shoes was me!
I hold the cigarette like i'm in a black-and-white movie.
but when jed lights the match, it spreads to color,
his skin in the campfire light, the spark of his eyes
as he leans in to me
By using patches of color and tone it is possible to capture every natural impression in the simplest way, freshly and immediately.
I want to see a player on the football field. I want to see what kind of teammate they are, what kind of leadership qualities they have. I want to see how aggressive they are, how much fun they have playing the game.
The showstopper! The icon! The main event!
Summer sky swallowed colour, but the sky of late August made colour ricochet back to earth, and there were sharp edges on all the buildings and curbs and even on the leaves of the trees and on the impatiens in the flowerbeds of all the towns through which Wayne travelled to reach Wally Michelin.
Prettiest thing I've ever seen."
"Gray,"
"In that getup, in your jeans and tees, in your bikini on the lawnmower, when I open my eyes in the morning and see you next to me, anytime I see you, that's what I think. First thing that comes to mind. Anytime. Every time.
A baton of light across the bracken redeemed the reputation of the color brown with fiery reds and yellows.
I haven't yet managed to capture the colour of this landscape; there are moments when I'm appalled at the colours I'm having to use, I'm afraid what I'm doing is just dreadful and yet I really am understating it; the light is simply terrifying.
Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green, With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day.
When your eyes freeze behind the grey window and the ghost of loss gets in to you, may a flock of colours, indigo, red, green and azure blue come to awaken in you a meadow of delight.
Three matches one by one struck in the night
The first to see your face in its entirety
The second to see your eyes
The last to see your mouth
And the darkness all around to remind me of all these
As I hold you in my arms.
She was luminous. Her red hair had been braided a dozen ways, all swirled together in a high shaggy twist. Her eyelids were shimmering green, her lips crimson and matte. She wore black vintage ankle-high motorcycle boots. She was lethal.
Sports are, and should be, a joy. And it delights me that the joy I felt through the years of broadcasting games was projected onto the audience.
City lights shine bright on my complexion,
Self-reflection ... red hairs flashing at the intersection.
Life is a green light, one star, no script,
Supporting actors ... fresh peaches, no pit.
For those of you watching in black and white, Spurs are in the all-yellow strip.
Proper lighting is everything, Julianna.
Glittering news chips in men's sideburns and women with braided microfilament glo-strands stepping around me, laughing with silver lipsticks. Kaleidoscope streets: lights and traffic and dust and coal diesel exhaust. Muddy and wet.
It is the special privilege of the fine artist to reveal immediate data with a clarity, intensity and purity that promotes them to a special degree of reality.
astonishing splashes of colour
A fragile, unearthly prettiness has come out in Laura: she is like a piece of translucent glass touched by light, given a momentary radiance, not actual, not lasting.
Caress the detail, the divine detail.
Dark with excessive bright.
Give me attention.
Flash.
Give me adoration.
Flash.
Give me a break.
Flash
What I need most of all is color, always, always.
towards more engaged analyses that appreciate sport's protean, dialectic nature as a site of everyday domination and resistance; a space of joy and creativity and routine mechanized existence.
If you take an intense color and put an intense complement next to it without graying it, it's very hot. The gray allows the eye to do the visual mixing.
No, Gray. Intense is fucking you. This is just plain pathetic.
It wasn't a pretty sunset. The colors were as expected: violet clouds, bright orange and pink underneath, against the pale blue sky. But the clouds were high cirrus, wispy, and crossed with the contrails of F-16s, a colorful glowing mess. I said, It looks like God barfed a rainbow.
I like bright colors.
At last, the luminous match was struck and the day was lit.
The ungrown glories of his beamy hair.
Gem of all joy, jasper of jocundity.
I just happen to like ordinary things. When I paint them, I don't try to make them extraordinary. I just try to paint them ordinary-ordinary.
I use colors to bring fine points of story and character.
The spotlight kept rowing back and forth across the face of the ridge. Methodically. Bright shuttle, dark loom.
Every touch created colors she had never seen. Colors as soft as velvet and as sharp as sparks that turned into stars.
I was having the best game of my life. This was it. I could feel it. Everything was finally falling in to place. I had the glow.
When you've only got one little shimmer of sunshine, you capture it best you can.
Here, illuminated at last,
Nestles the ruddy glint of spiritual certainty;
Sweet moments of passion and healing,
Of sensual release.
I like things bright.
Champions are brilliant at the basics.
The Room was darkened, and Rob struck a match to light candles. As the comforting scent of jasmine and vanilla lifted from the candles around him, Matty took in the dark sheets on the bed - the ones Rob liked because they showed Matty's jizz better.
It was dusk and the light had an ultra-violet quality to it, a final burst of pigmentation as night and day rushed at each other in a clash of colour prisms before darkness finnaly, inevitably won out.
An artist finds his happiest combination in a play of complementary colors. They are direct contrasts yet do not jar; they awaken the beholder, but do not disturb him.
Nuzleaf Grass/Dark
Extraordinarily beautiful, and slightly out of focus.
True eloquence has an edge, sharp and clean.
Finer than any sand are dusts of gold that gleam, Vague starpoints, in the mystic iris of their eyes.
After eighteen years of being utterly ordinary, I finally found that I can shine
My own ultraviolet darling. " Lolita
the good finish best
Her albino hair illuminated my dreams, shining brighter than moonlight.
The color," he breathed. "When you stand in the light. They're amazing ... like molten gold. I could paint those ... " He reached toward me but then pulled back. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful." -Bloodlines
Just a dark shape against an even darker background.
Everything that she saw glowing during the day seemed tarnished beside the light that was at the heart of the evening. the bleached color of things replaced by a beauty that stole into everything. the pale yellow leaves grew golden. The white gems opened up their hearts and shone.
Every second, another streak of silver glows: parentheses, exclamation points, commas
a whole grammar made of light, for words to hard to speak.
Colors are light's suffering and joy
The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.
Shades of the rich ruby love she'd felt during the game mixed with hues of deep-indigo hurt, turning everything just a little bit violet.
Pride is nothing more than us highlighting us.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE RETIRED COLOURMAN
Turner watercolour
Several were sheer and white.
Dark and light. Horror and beauty. Everything is extremes.
Champions are an example of what happens when you decide to leave the plane of average thinking, where you dare to dream and you dare to go after that dream, and you make these thoughts and ideas become more than something than just a dream. They actually become a vision.
Everywhere she looked, she saw bright colors: on the drab, gray concrete apartments, on the tin-roofed, open-fronted stores, in the muddy water flowing in the gutters. It was as though a rainbow had melted into her eyes. Rasheed
Blonde tangles flying everywhere and her diamond-laden hand wrapped around Jess's strong, bare torso. She looked happy and so did Jess.-From Siddy Creek
Nobody speaks of a beautifful view for 5 minutes
Details, when they are successful, are not mere decoration. They do not distract or entertain. They lead to an understanding of the whole of which they are an inherent part.
Finally the dawn came, the sky fringed with pink, and the sun bright as a coin in a spill of rising red.
Colours are nature gone wild.
Days, pale slices between nights, they blend, not exactly alike, transparencies so lightly tinted that only stacked all together do they darken to a fatal shade.
I spy something green," Sally announced.
"Trees," Crina hollered, while Mariana called out, "Grass,"
"Nope," Sally answered.
"What's the point of this game again?" Crina asked.
"Mindless entertainment," Jen announced. "It's what Americans are known for.
darkened like a stage set. The senet game began
In Nina Kimbereley's garden the scabiosa flowers were dark as garnet brooches; the nicotiana a veil of tossing crimson stars. Nothing was usual, or a dull color. All was exceptional, designed to be exceptional since it had been planned as the background for a beauty by the beauty.
Jeweled stars, pearl stars, silver coins in olive jars... glittering deep within the dark, see them flicker, see them spark...
Excellence is the name of the game ...
In extraordinary times, the ordinary takes on a glow and wonder all of its own
In the afternoon, over gold screens,
I will brush the blue dust of my dreams.
highlight and drag your ==========
I think we can all agree. SHINEY.
Gleaming like a searchlight, Iowa moon, silver plate.
In making the jump from a local program to the showcase of a coast-to-coast broadcast, Ted Yates and I were determined to maintain the candid, sometimes combative style we'd introduced on 'Night Beat.' But that proved easier said than done.
Pale-gray rug. Several pieces of chrome-and-black-leather
It's on the field, it's on the pane, it's in the sky - beauty; and I can't get at it; I can't have it - I, she seemed to add, with that little clutch of the hand which was so characteristic, who adore it so passionately, would give the whole world to possess it!
Still, the vivid green of the grass-where the grass is actually managing to assert itself through the dirt-seems out of place.
This seems like a place where the sun should never shine: a place on the edge, at the limit, a place completely removed from time and happiness and life.
Life is not about significant details, illuminated a flash, fixed forever.
Photographs are.
Faded like morning fog in the rising sun, sports team logo on a cheap T-shirt, ninety-nine dollar paint job on a Chevy.
Iridescent with fancy and winged it with paradox.
Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue - the sky
Better gray than garishness.
Life is more interesting when you colour outside the lines
A medal glitters, but it also casts a shadow.
The Immaculate Reception became the Zapruder Film of sports.
I like light, color, luminosity. I like things full of color and vibrant.
On grass, it can be the small things that decide a match.
Sometimes now, when I watch continental games on television, I'm a bit bored. I ask, 'where is the intensity?'
See the gold sunshine patching, And streaming and streaking across The gray-green oaks; and catching, By its soft brown beard, the moss.
I charge laughing.
Into the hair-thin tints
of yellow dawn,
into the women-coloured twilight