[The Navy once asked some scientists,] If you had a sound source that sounded like a blue whale voice, what would you be able to do with it? ... could illuminate an entire ocean basin.

Her voice sounded like an eagle being goosed.

Pink is the navy blue of India.

I adore that pink! It's the navy blue of India!

I would never propose an experiment of any kind that I thought could possibly harm a whale.

How do you know, when you think blue — when you say blue — that you are talking about the same blue as anyone else?

You cannot get a grip on blue.

Blue is the sky, the sea, a god’s eye, a devil’s tail, a birth, a strangulation, a virgin’s cloak, a monkey’s ass. It’s a butterfly, a bird, a spicy joke, the saddest song, the brightest day.

Blue is sly, slick, it slides into the room sideways, a slippery trickster.

This is a story about the color blue, and like blue, there’s nothing true about it. Blue is beauty, not truth. ‘True blue’ is a ruse, a rhyme; it’s there, then it’s not. Blue is a deeply sneaky color.