The rainbow is elusive, and its colors but the illumination of tears.
Colors are the deeds/ and sufferings of light.
There are chemists who spend their whole lives trying to find out what's in a lump of sugar. I want to know one thing. What is color?
We open our eyes and we think we're seeing the whole world out there. But what has become clear—and really just in the last few centuries—is that when you look at the electro-magnetic spectrum we are seeing less than 1/10 Billionth of the information that's riding on there. So we call that visible light. But everything else passing through our bodies is completely invisible to us. Even though we accept the reality that's presented to us, we're really only seeing a little window of what's happening.
If men were to be destroyed and the books they have written were to be transmitted to a new race of creatures, in a new world, what kind of record would be found in them of so remarkable a phenomenon as the rainbow?
Who in the rainbow can draw the line where the violet tint ends and the orange tint begins?
Color! What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams.
There are so many colors in the rainbow So many colors in the morning sun So many colors in the flower and I see every one.
The rainbow bursts like magic on mine eyes! In hues of ancient promise there imprest.
