Quotes About Eyes

Timpul îmbrac? forme ciudateîn ochii amintirii. El se destinde sau se chirce?te, se multiplic? sau se pliaz?.

Edric knew he should head for home. It would be dark soon, and even though he was as familiar with his part of the forest as he was with the back and the front of his hand, there were dangers when the lights went out—wild animals, evil spirits, big glowing eyes attached to who-knew-what, stuff like that.

Il était étendu comme crucifié. Il ne bougeait plus, mais il avait les yeux ouverts et, le regard de ces yeux, je ne l'oublierai jamais plus, même si je dure autant que Mathusalem. Sous sa barbe, il était pâle comme la mort. La flamme au poing, je le regardai : il était sur sa croix !

In the Middle Ages, as in antiquity, they read usually, not as today, principally with the eyes, but with the lips, pronouncing what they saw, and with the ears, listening to the words pronounced. hearing what is called the "voices of the pages." It is a real acoustical reading.

My death, taking the light from my eyes, gives back to the day the purity which they soiled.

I saw a street car conductor today with one brown eye and one blue. Wouldn't he make a nice villain for a detective story?

Stars crown the world, she said, but the lights in your eyes, those are stars, too. They make up your crown, he said.

Upturned toward the sun, eyes closed. That color and warmth I see and feel is the soul on fire. If only it remained when again my eyes opened.

wat een ogen en dat is ten slotte van groter belang dan iets anders, want ogen blijven mooi tot op het laatst en dat is soms een hele tijd...

Into the eyes of those she met Pollyanna smiled joyously. She was disappointed—but not surprised—that she received no answering smile in return. She was used to that now—in Boston. She still smiled, however, hopefully: there might be some one, sometime, who would smile back.

Estoy y estuve en muchos ojos. Yo solo soy memoria y la memoria que de mí se tenga.

In the beginning was belief, foolish belief, and faith, empty faith, and illusion, the terrible illusion. ... We believed in God, had faith in man, and lived with the illusion that in each one of us is a sacred spark from the fire of the shekinah, that each one carried in his eyes and in his soul the sign of God. This was the source—if not the cause—of all our misfortune.

His stare enveloped my whole being, and I wondered if he saw that I was a mass of eyes.

Death," Kalman, the grizzled master, told me, "is being without. arms or legs or mouth or head; it is all eyes. If you ever meet a. creature with eyes everywhere, you can be sure it is death.

tears, like drops of wax, flowed from his eyes.

Kodiak shrugs. I work out. I roll my eyes. I noticed. I noticed you noticing, he says, his eyes suddenly back on mine.

St. Augustine said, The very pleasures of human life men acquire by difficulties. There are times when the entire arrangement of our existence is disrupted and we long then for just one ordinary day - seeing our ordinary life as greatly desirable, even wonderful, in the light of the terrible disruption that has taken place. Difficulty opens our eyes to pleasures we had taken for granted.

Most of humanity, he said, have eyes that are so caked shut with the dust of deception they will never see the truth, no matter who tries to help them.

We stared at each other for a while. There was a good deal of information conveyed across the silence, a whole conversation, you might say. This is waht flirtation is in its purest form, a conversation held without words. Flirtation is a series of silent questions that one person asks another person with their eyes. And the answer to those questions is always the same word: Maybe.

We stared at each other for a while. There was a good deal of information conveyed across the silence, a whole conversation, you might say. This is what flirtation is in its purest form, a conversation held without words. Flirtation is a series of silent questions that one person asks another person with their eyes. And the answer to those questions is always the same word: Maybe.

This is what flirtation is in its purest form—a conversation held without words. Flirtation is a series of silent questions that one person asks another person with their eyes.

His eyes were dark, dangerous, and not at all cold. He burned with an internal inferno she wanted to touch. She stared into the gaze of a tiger and knew, even as she watched the cat retreat into the camouflage of a gentleman: The Duke of Wakefield was the Ghost of St. Giles.

If she'd been quizzed as to His Grace's eye color, she would've had to reply simply that they were dark. Which they were. Very dark, nearly black, but not quite. The Duke of Wakefield's eyes were a deep, rich brown, like coffee newly brewed, like walnut wood oiled and polished, like seal fur shining in the light, and even though they were rather lovely to look at, they were as cold as iron in winter. One touch and her very soul might freeze.

She took two swift steps forward and placed her palms against his chest, pushing. He allowed himself to sway an inch backward with her thrust before righting himself. She stilled, staring up at him. The top of her head barely came to his mid-chest. He could feel the brush of her breath on his lips. The warmth of her hands seemed to burn through the rough fabric of his waistcoat. This close her green eyes were enormous, and he could see shards of gold surrounding her pupils.