Quotes About Eyes

ALIF: Painting brings to life what the mind sees, as a feast for the eyes. LAM: What the eye sees in the world enters the painting to the degree that it serves the mind. MIM: Consequently, beauty is the eye discovering in our world what the mind already knows. Did the graduate of the miserable college understand this logic, which I'd extracted with lightning inspiration from the depths of my soul?

PriveÈ™te-l în adâncul ochilor; are o inim? ca de copil, atât de curat?, atât de singuratic?!

Genius, that power which dazzles mortal eyes, is but perseverance in disguise.

Somebody's heart says, 'I am the wind from the cold snow of the mountain, and you are the tiger whose roar will freeze in your own ears before you tremble and die in the iron knife of my winter eyes'?

Disobedience, in the eyes of any one who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion.

I have gazed so much on beauty that my eyes overflow with it.

At least let me now deceive myself with illusions so as not to feel my empty life. And yet I came so close so many times. And yet how paralyzed I was, how cowardly; why did I keep my lips sealed while my empty life wept inside me, my desires wore robes of mourning? To have been so close so many times to those sensual eyes, those lips, to that body I dreamed of, loved. To have been so close so many times. September 1903

She looked up at him and her face was pale and austere in the uplight and her eyes lost in their darkly shadowed hollows save only for the glint of them and he could see her throat move in the light and he saw in her face and in her figure something he'd not seen before and the name of that thing was sorrow.

He'd half meant to speak but those eyes had altered the world forever in the space of a heartbeat.

He thought that God's goodness appeared in strange places. Dont close your eyes.

He looked into those blue eyes like a man seeking some vision of the increate future of the universe.

The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.

She watched him with her yellow eyes and in them was no despair but only that same reckonless deep of loneliness that cored the world to its heart.

He went among vendors and beggars and wild street preachers haranguing a lost world with vigor unknown to the sane. Suttree admired them with their hot eyes and dogeared bibles, God's barkers gone forth into the world like the prophets of old.

A constellation of ignited eyes that edged the ring of light all bound in a precarious truce before this torch whose brightness had set back the stars in their sockets.

She raised her eyes and looked at him. He'd never seen despair before. He thought he had, but he had not.

Somewhere out there is a true and living prophet of destruction and I dont want to confront him. I know he's real. I have seen his work. I walked in front of those eyes once. I wont do it again. I wont push my chips forward and stand up and go out to meet him.

She came down the steps slowly, madonna bereaved, so grief-stunned and wooden pieta of perpetual dawn, the birds were hushed in the presence of this gravity and the derelict that she had taken for the son of light himself was consumed in shame like a torch. She touched him as a blind person might. Deep in the floor of her welling eyes dead leaves scudding. Please go away, she said.

one pounding coffeebeans in a buckskin with a rock while the others stared into the fire with eyes as black as gunbores.

He'd half meant to speak but those eyes had altered the world forever in the space of a heartbeat.

Western took a drink and passed the bottle back. Borman drank. The brown liquor boiled in the bottle. When he lowered it the bottle was a third gone and his eyes were watering. He wiped his mouth and held the bottle out. Hell, Western. I've drunk worse liquor than that. Here.

He was wounded in an enemy country far from home and although his eyes took in the alien stones about yet the greater void beyond seemed to swallow up his soul.

His father rode sitting forward slightly in the saddle, holding the reins in one hand about two inches above the saddlehorn. So thin and frail, lost in his clothes. Looking over the country with those sunken eyes as if the world out there had been altered or made suspect by what he'd seen of it elsewhere. As if he might never see it right again. Or worse did see it right at last. See it as it had always been, would forever be.

Borrower time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it