Every person has their own colour. — Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Every person has their own colour. — Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Every person has their own colour. — Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Every person has their own colour. — Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
Every person has their own colour. — Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
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Every person has their own colour.

— Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage
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More “Colour” Quotes

His eyes were that colour you can't see in the rainbow. Indigo. — Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl
For years, I declined to fill in the form for my Senate press credential that asked me to state my 'race,' unless I was — Christopher Hitchens
Human colour is the colour I'm truly interested in, the colour of your humanity. May the size of your heart and the dept — Salena Godden
If there’s one shade a woman of colour can’t wear it’s got to be the one everyone expects, hasn’t it? — Sara Sheridan, British Bulldog
The perpetrator is a person. He’s got blood flowing in his or her veins. Does it matter if he or she is Black or White? — S.A. David, Wednesday
Conversely, the red plant itself burns a brighter red when set off by the green than when it grows among its peers. In t — Arthur Japin, De zwarte met het witte hart
Quinns always come at half price, about half the time, and half-naked, even during the colder half of winter. A Quinn is — Will Advise, Nothing is here...
Someone asked me, what colour were those two years of living in Korea? I thought about it for a long time. There was no — Yixing Zhang
The cattle crouched round them in soft shadowy clumps, placidly munching, and dreaming with wide-open eyes. The narrow z — Hope Mirrlees, Lud-in-the-Mist
It's when I'm feeling blue that I think of my little color pink. — Anthony T.Hincks
The rain hit the windows like rice — the fire roared hollowly
The question is, what colour will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying? — Markus Zusak, The Book Thief