Top 17 Russet's Quotes
#1. David Kay, listening in, had no idea what this was about, but he watched in horror as Mrs. Russet's gaze turned from weathered shingles to flint.
Suzanne Stroh
#2. Magnificent autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds; not like a hermit, clad in gray; but like a warrior with the stain of blood in his brazen mail.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
#3. I support the rights of all people to practice their religious beliefs privately, but I oppose the idea of respecting religions. In truth, I have no respect for any religion. I believe religion is not compatible with human rights, women's rights, or freedom of expression.
Taslima Nasrin
#4. Trouble seemed to follow me around. The late Tim Russert, my friend and the esteemed moderator of NBC's Meet the Press, once joked, "Richard, just don't come to Washington.
Richard Engel
#5. Ninety-nine percent of Indian people loved me and they still love me.
M. F. Husain
#6. Autumn that year painted the countryside in vivid shades of scarlet, saffron and russet, and the days were clear and crisp under harvest skies.
Sharon Kay Penman
#7. missing anything. The northern horizon, which had turned a bluish grey, showed orange again. The orange turned into copper and then into a luminous russet. Red tongues of flame leaped into the black sky. A soft
Khushwant Singh
#8. Only a few leaves of deep red remain on the otherwise bare limbs of the maples; the oak leaves are russet and wrinkled; briefly through the trees is the glimpse of the bay, flat and steel-gray today with the overcast November sky.
Elizabeth Strout
#9. I had rather have a plain, russet-coated Captain, that knows what he fights for, and loves what he knows, than that which you call a Gentle-man and is nothing else.
Oliver Cromwell
#10. I always look at things as, instead of a problem, how is this an opportunity?
Greg Jackson
#11. She was only the faint violet whiff and dead leaf echo of the nymphet I had rolled myself upon with such cries in the past; an echo on the brink of a russet ravine, with a far wood under a white sky, and brown leaves choking the brook, and one last cricket in the crisp weeds.
Vladimir Nabokov
#12. David put his pint glass down like it was poison. The clear amber beauty stared back at him with Again on its mind. She was already in his blood, swimming in his veins.
Suzanne Stroh
#14. The trees are Indian Princes, But soon they'll turn to Ghosts; The scanty pears and apples Hang russet on the bough; Its Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, 'Twill soon be Winter now. Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And what will this poor Robin do? For pinching days are near.
William Allingham
#15. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures, Russet lawns and fallows grey, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
John Milton
#16. Only the soldier pines and sentinels still showed green; the broadleaf trees had donned mantles of russet and gold, or else uncloaked themselves to scratch against the sky with branches brown and bare.
George R R Martin
#17. What I see, what I see. What I see is the day in all its absurdity and triviality.
Joseph Roth
