From John Logan's play Red:

And red! –

I don’t even know what that means!

What does “red” mean to me?

You mean scarlet?

You mean crimson?

You mean plum-mulberry-magenta-burgundy-salmon-carmine-carnelian-coral?

Anything but “red”!

What is “RED”?!

I meant sunrise.

Sunrise?

I meant the red at sunrise…The feeling of it.

Oh, the “feeling of it.”

What do you mean “the feeling of it”?

…the emotion of red at sunrise.

Sunrise isn’t red.

Yes it is.

I’m telling you it’s not.

Beets. Tulips. Peppers.

Arterial blood.

That too.

Rust on the bike on the lawn.

And apples… And tomatoes…

Dresden firestorm at night.

The sun in Rousseau, the flag is Delacroix, the robe in El Greco.

A rabbit’s nose. An albino’s eyes. A parakeet.

Florentine marble.

Atomic flash.

Nick yourself shaving, blood in the Barbasol.

…Kremlin on the president’s desk.

Russian flag, Nazi flag, Chinese flag.

…Red tape. Rouge.

Lava.

Lobsters.

Scorpions.

Stop sign. Sports car. A blush.

Viscera.

Flame.

Dead Fauvists.

Traffic lights. Titian hair.

Slash your wrists.

Blood in the sink.

Santa Claus.

Satan.

So…red.