Pastel Quotes

“But the kitchen will not come into its own again until it ceases to be a status symbol and becomes again a workshop. It may be pastel. It may be ginghamed as to curtains and shining with copper like a picture in a woman's magazine. But you and I will know it chiefly by its fragrances and its clutter. At the back of the stove will sit a soup kettle, gently bubbling, one into which every day are popped leftover bones and vegetables to make stock for sauces or soup for the family. Carrots and leeks will sprawl on counters, greens in a basket. There will be something sweet-smelling twirling in a bowl and something savory baking in the oven. Cabinet doors will gape ajar and colored surfaces are likely to be littered with salt and pepper and flour and herbs and cheesecloth and pot holders and long-handled forks. It won't be neat. It won't even look efficient. but when you enter it you will feel the pulse of life throbbing from every corner. The heart of the home will have begun once again to beat.”
― Phyllis McGinley

“There are days when you wish to drape pastels to your heart. Calmness is what you seek! Not being answerable is what you crave for!

Dear woman! Go ahead! Your basic instinct is pastel-hued!”
― Neelam Saxena Chandra

“He also looked very handsome, even though there was a smear of dirt on his gold-hued cheek that she very much wanted to wipe off. She resisted the urge, though, since he was looking at her with so much confusion and alarm in his face that she thought he might flee if she tried.
She knew what he was seeing when he looked at her: a short, plump, pastel-colored woman who was pretty in the same kind of harmless way that bunnies are pretty.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Enchanted Greenhouse

“I’m dazed, trembling in the brand-new dress. It’s a gorgeous pastel pink, with half sleeves that puff like a drooping petal and a sweetheart neckline above a corset with white boning and intricately laced satin ribbons. Pale chiffon flowers dot the bodice and decorate the dress, both on top and under a tulle skirt that floats in waterfall layers like the head of a bell flower. It’s beautiful.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“She holds up a dress the exact shade of pink rock salt.
“I wasn’t aware this color was in your vocabulary,” I say, earning another scowl. But with a closer look, I see it’s not a dress at all. It’s a seventies-ish satin nightgown, sleeveless, freed from its housecoat. It looks like it’s never been worn. “This is too nice. I can't wear it.”
“Take it and let this be the end of it. The color suits your angel food cake complexion.”
Even if I’ve just been insulted… she’s right. There are no jewel tones in my future. I slip the delicate fabric over my skin. Ms. Zeen has an hourglass figure I don’t, so I grab the tie from one of my aprons and fasten it around my waist in a small bow.
Now I look more cocktail hour than sleepover. Better.”
― Ellen Pauley Goff, The Farewitch of Foxe Holler