New York state sentence for a Peeping Tom is six months in the workhouse. And they got no windows in the workhouse. You know, in the old days they used to put your eyes out with a red-hot poker.
(John Michael Hayes (b. 1919), U.S. screenwriter, and Alfred Hitchcock. Stella (Thelma Ritter), Rear Window, to invalid photographer L.B. Jeffries (James Stewart), who is spying on his neighbors across the courtyard of his apartment building (1954).
Based on the short story by Cornell Woolrich.)
Billboards, billboards, drink this, eat that, use all manner of things, everyone, the best, the cheapest, the purest and most satisfying of all their available counterparts. Red lights flicker on every horizon, airplanes beware; cars flash by, more lights. Workers repair the gas main. Signs, signs, lights, lights, streets, streets.
(Neal Cassady (1926-1968), U.S. beat hero. "Leaving LA by Train at Night, High ...," The First Third and Other Writings (1971).)
[It is possible] that the race of red men ... will, before many generations, be remembered only as a strange, weird, dream-like specter, which has passed once before the eyes of men, but had departed forever.
(James A. Garfield (1831-1881), U.S. president. To J.D. Cox, August 6, 1870. Garfield, ch. 14, Allen Peskin (1978).)
To many women marriage is only this. It is merely a physical change impinging on their ordinary nature, leaving their mentality untouched, their self-possession intact. They are not burnt by even the red fire of physical passionfar less by the white fire of love.
(Mary Webb (1881-1927), British novelist. The Golden Arrow, ch. 18 (1916).)
Perhaps the old monks were right when they tried to root love out; perhaps the poets are right when they try to water it. It is a blood-red flower, with the colour of sin; but there is always the scent of a god about it.
(Olive Schreiner (1855-1920), South African writer, feminist. The Story of an African Farm, pt. 2, ch. 8 (1883).)
...deep down, deeper than everyday gets me, I am still one of them and will be till I die. In my heart and soul I belong to the lot and the red wagons and the Big Top.
(Josephine Demott Robinson (1865-1948), U.S. circus performer. The Circus Lady, ch. 16 (1926).
After a successful childhood career as a circus performer, followed by marriage and fifteen years in retirement, Robinson had returned to circus performing, a decision that eventually broke up her marriage.)