Quotes About Eyes

It's difficult for me, to look into eyes of a journalist and trust him to present it as you say.

It is still breathtaking to me to watch people bring love, preciousness and kindness to their inner world, allowing the light of God to shine through their eyes so that the beauty of their soul can come forth.

I narrowed my eyes at it. Ming-de's little gift, I assumed. "You look better in color," I snapped. He sent me a sultry look over his shoulder. "Really? Most women think I look better in nothing at all.

The eyes were the same color, darker than mine, to the point that they didn't seem to have a pupil as they regarded me quizzically. "For such a small creature, you cause a lot of trouble." "So people…keep telling me," I said, dizzy and weaponless, and wondering what this new hell was.

I play songs that have only the pattern of my self in them and you hum along suporting me. You are the companion to myself. The mirror with my mother'e eyes.

Ancient eyes had stared at me, filled with ancient grief. And something more. Something so alien and unexpected that I'd almost burst into tears. I'd seen many things in his eyes in the time that I'd known him: lust, amusement, sympathy, mockery, caution, fury. But I had never seen this. Hope. Jericho Barrons had hope, and I was the reason for it. I would never forget his smile. It had illuminated him from the inside out.

Keep hoping to see the light in her eyes. Even knowing it'll mean she's saying good-bye.

When Barrons looks at me like that, it rattles me. Lust, in those ancient, obsidian eyes, offers no trace of humanity. Doesn't even bother trying. Savage Mac wants to invite it to come out and play. I think she's nuts. Nuts, I tell you.

Dude, got eyes? I'm collecting evidence." [...] "In Ziploc bags." "I think they're Glad." "They look impartial to me.

Your pretty college boy isn't so pretty anymore." "He isn't my pretty college boy." Our gazes locked. "But I still think he's pretty pretty," I said, just to antagonize him. See you in bed with him like I saw in the Silvers, I'll kill him. I blinked. I did not just see that in Barrons' eyes.

Did you fuck him?" "Ah!" I yelled. "Of course not!" I rubbed my face with both hands and kept it buried there a minute. "Wouldn't I be an addict if I did?" I raised my face. Barrons studied me, dark eyes cold. "Not if he protected you." "They can do that? Really?" "Try not to sound so intrigued, Ms. Lane.

Relax. Live. Keep your eyes open. See what comes.

Her eyes are different. Wary, guarded, tinged with that human emotion I despise the most: regret.

His eyes flared dangerously. Did the lass think to share such intimacies with him and then rescind them? Och, nay, Dageus MacKeltar didn't go backward. She would find that out soon enough.

Nay, lass, he didn't say it. His eyes did." Whose eyes has he been looking at? she wondered, because the only eyes she'd seen held murder in their depths.

feet ahead, driving thousands of tiny, needlelike grains into our unprotected face, our eyes.

Don't hurt yourself, honey. It's just a wish," I teased. But she wished like she did everything else: one hundred fifty percent. She stood there so long I was beginning to suspect she had a little bit of an attorney in her and was adding codicils and caveats. Then her eyes popped open and she flashed me that cocky grin. She nearly blew the icing off the cake.

His eyes. She got lost in them for a long moment, wondering how she could have ever thought them tiger-gold. They were the color of dark whisky. And filled with some emotion. She stared. Something like … Despair?

She laughed. He was right. Her laughter was enchanting. So, too, the sparkle in her eyes as she glanced at him. He'd never seen eyes as darkly brown as hers. With her dark hair she should have been a study in monochrome, but she wasn't. Her cheeks matched her pink lips.

I made a quick calculation: a 180-pound man, falling thirty feet under an acceleration of 32.2 feet per second square—I drew the shade and turned away from the window and closed my eyes.

His beard is flecked with grey now, but even at 57 he still has a cherubic face that breaks easily into a broad, youthful smile. Only his eyes betray immense pain. Dignity is the word that comes to mind when one meets him.

His skin was dark, his face tanned, little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Sun lines, not laugh lines, she was sure. She couldn't imagine the devil captain ever laughing at anything except, perhaps, someone else's pain.

So you'll be keeping the Sea Devil, " she said. His light eyes roamed over her, settled for a moment on her breasts. "I'm keeping her. The ship holds a number of interesting memories I wouldn't want to forget." His eyes said he was remembering their numerous encounters-and the final delicious outcome-and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

they were very scary times [1982], Midge Ure dancing with tears in his eyes. That German girl with the hairy arm pits singing about 99 red balloons.