“And red is not the color of apples or roses or the dresses that pretty girls wear in the summertime.That is not the color of red at all.”

“For her everything was red, orange, gold-red from the sun on the closed eyes, and it all was that color, all of it, the filling, the possessing, the having, all of that color, all in a blindness of that color."- Ernest Hemingway,”

“Red", I write "is the color of life. It's blood, passion, rage. It's menstrual flow and after birth. Beginnings and violent end. Red is the color of love. Beating hearts and hungry lips. Roses, Valentines, cherries. Red is the color of shame. Crimson cheeks and spilled blood. Broken hearts, opened veins. A burning desire to return to white.”

“The redness was going out of the light now, the remains of the day were a fading pink, the color of wild roses.”

“Red was the color of the sun's most beautiful throneand all the other colors prayed on red rugs....I still follow the childwho still walks inside me.”

“The red washingdown the bathtubcan't change the color of the seaat all.”