She’s in her room, sitting at a small wooden desk with a notebook and pen, a cup of tea and a first edition of Finnegan’s Wake signed in green ink by James Joyce.
(Michael Dwyer, ‘High priestess of rock’n’roll’, Spectrum, 25 Feb. 2017)
A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a fare, a young gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter.
And Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would partake of two tankards if she did not mind. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at first, at second. She did not mind.
For example, if you were dealing with a blind man, you could hold a red-hot poker near enough for him to feel the heat, and you could tell him that red is what he would see if he could see—but of course for the word ‘see’ you would have to substitute another elaborate description.
(Bertrand Russell, My Philosophical Development, §18.III)
But it did not, at that time, seem to me doubtful that, if there are two patches of red in two different places, there are two particular reds. The necessity of thinking them two was bound up with the relativity of position: the two patches, I thought, differ only in position, and since position is not a quality (or so I thought), it presupposes diversity and cannot constitute it. With the recognition that position in space is absolute, the situation changed. A red patch on my right can be a complex of the two qualities redness and rightness; and a patch on my left can be a complex of the two qualities redness and leftness. Right and left, as well as up and down, have, in all their various degrees, the logical characteristics which are required for geometry, and it is their union with some one quality, such as redness, which gives plurality to two patches of redness seen simultaneously.
(Bertrand Russell, My Philosophical Development, ch. 14)
In the first exuberance of liberation, I became a naïve realist and rejoiced in the thought that grass is really green, in spite of the adverse opinion of all philosophers from Locke onwards.
(Bertrand Russell, My Philosophical Development, ch. 5)