Quotes about neon

A collection of quotes on the topic of neon, light, lighting, likeness.

Quotes about neon

Cassandra Clare photo
Nicholas Sparks photo
Carson McCullers photo
Stephen King photo
Colin Moulding photo
Frank Wilczek photo
Peter Greenaway photo
Anthony Burgess photo
Bill Whittle photo

“And why do soldiers wear uniforms? It certainly is not to protect the soldier. As a matter of fact, a soldier’s uniform is actually a big flashing neon arrow pointing to some kid that says to the enemy, SHOOT ME!”

Bill Whittle (1959) author, director, screenwriter, editor

SANCTUARY (part 1) https://web.archive.org/web/20050521031500/http://ejectejecteject.com/archives/000125.html (18 May 2005)
2000s

Tom Robbins photo
Norman Mailer photo
Tom Morello photo

“Sacrifice and neon lights slave ships don't wait. Love many, trust few, and don't be late”

Tom Morello (1964) American guitarist and singer-songwriter

One Man Revolution.
Lyrics

Peter Greenaway photo
Allan Kaprow photo

“Pollock.... left us [c. 1958] at the point where we must be preoccupied with and even dazzled by the space and objects of our everyday life, either our bodies, clothes, rooms, or, if need be, the vastness of Forty-Second Street [New York].... Objects of every sorts are materials for the new art, paints, chairs, food, electric and neon-lights, smoke, water, old socks, a dog, movies, a thousand other things which will be discovered by the present generation of artists.... All will become materials for this new concrete art.”

Allan Kaprow (1927–2006) American artist

In his essay 'The legacy of Jackson Pollock', published in 'ARTnews', Fall of 1958; as quoted by Christina Bryan Rosenberger, in 'Drawing the Line: The Early Work of Agnes Martin', Univ. of California Press, July 2016, p 121
this essay of 1958 became more or less an art-manifesto for the generation American artists after Abstract Expressionism

Philip K. Dick photo
John Berger photo
Anne Murray photo
Kate Bush photo
Anthony Bourdain photo
Dylan Moran photo
Gerry Rafferty photo
Robert Charles Wilson photo
Daniel Johns photo
Fernand Léger photo
Dennis Lehane photo

“Bend color names which should be made of neon or copper tubing. Place an object on a surface – trace the object – then bend the object – leaving some part of it attached.”

Jasper Johns (1930) American artist

Book A (sketchbook), p 43, c 1963-64: as quoted in Jasper Johns, Writings, sketchbook Notes, Interviews, ed. Kirk Varnedoe, Moma New York, 1996, p. 54
1960s

Bill Bailey photo
Paul Simon photo

“And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made”

Paul Simon (1941) American musician, songwriter and producer

The Sound of Silence
Song lyrics, Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M. (1964)
Context: And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said "The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sound of silence"

Bill Bailey photo
William S. Burroughs photo

“So we pour it in a Pernod bottle and start for New Orleans past iridescent lakes and orange gas flares, and swamps and garbage heaps, alligators crawling around in broken bottles and tin cans, neon arabesques of motels, marooned pimps scream obscenities at passing cars from islands of rubbish …”

Opening Chapter
Naked Lunch (1959)
Context: Shooting PG is a terrible hassle, you have to burn out the alcohol first, then freeze out the camphor and draw this brown liquid off with a dropper—have to shoot it in the vein or you get an abscess, and usually end up with an abscess no matter where you shoot it. Best deal is to drink it with goof balls … So we pour it in a Pernod bottle and start for New Orleans past iridescent lakes and orange gas flares, and swamps and garbage heaps, alligators crawling around in broken bottles and tin cans, neon arabesques of motels, marooned pimps scream obscenities at passing cars from islands of rubbish … New Orleans is a dead museum. We walk around Exchange Place breathing PG and find The Man right away. It’s a small place and the fuzz always knows who is pushing so he figures what the hell does it matter and sells to anybody. We stock up on H and backtrack for Mexico. Back through Lake Charles and the dead slot-machine country, south end of Texas, nigger-killing sheriffs look us over and check the car papers. Something falls off you when you cross the border into Mexico, and suddenly the landscape hits you straight with nothing between you and it, desert and mountains and vultures; little wheeling specks and others so close you can hear wings cut the air (a dry husking sound), and when they spot something they pour out of the blue sky, that shattering bloody blue sky of Mexico, down in a black funnel … Drove all night, came at dawn to a warm misty place, barking dogs and the sound of running water.