Quotes About Eyes

And the moon never beams Without bringing me dreams And the sun never shines But I see the bright eyes I lie down by the side Of my darling My life, my life.

Oh eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears; Oh life, no life, but lively form of death; Oh world, no world, but mass of public wrongs.

What strange phenomena we find in a great city, all we need do is stroll about with our eyes open. Life swarms with innocent monsters.

Everything was dark. His tall figure dissolved into the night, but I could still feel his eyes on me, shining despite the darkness.

There are no new themes for a writer, only new ways of setting down old themes, new eyes to wander among old rocks.

That tiny part of your soul that believes in a 'good government' ideal requires you to avert your eyes from the segment of the civil service that is attracted to the work precisely because it doesn't really want to work.

Sky's weird infinite eyes held Dave. They saw another world, and looking into them Dave caught a glimpse of that world. There was a wealth of knowing in that glance. It challenged everything. Whatever this guy knew Dave wanted to know. Whatever this guy was Dave wanted to be. In that moment Dave switched sides. Oh God, he thought, what do I do now?

I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes. I am struck by the feather of your soft reply. The sound of glass speaks quick, disdain and conceals what your eyes fight to explain.

Perhaps you don't see yourself in animation," he said with a smile. "It's true your features are quite ordinary, but they become lively when you talk and you have what are called 'speaking eyes.' They shine with the light of your quick mind.

Maybe that afternoon was the closest I ever felt to Bob: his eyes were as old as God, and he was fragile as a winter leaf.

And in this matter, Gold, he'd said, rolling his eyes towards Frank, we have had an early advantage.

Era de izquierdas, pero ahora no lo soy tanto porque tengo ojos y oídos

Della never set foot more than a few paces off the waterfront. A sweet little thing with brassy hair and misty green eyes, she made a living off being shapely and willing, with no other means to support herself. As the town whore, she lived above one of the ramshackle dockside establishments and catered to men coming in off a fishing boat, reeking of the

cabin, eyes wide, face gone white.

extinguish their light and beauty with his gaze. This

And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then, When your eyes roll so. Alas! why gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame: These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me." Shakspeare.

Half-closes her eyes — eyelids heavy with poems.

I drink to our ruined house, to the dolor of my life, to our loneliness together; and to you I raise my glass, to lying lips that have betrayed us, to dead-cold pitiless eyes, and to the hard realities; that the world is brutal and coarse, that God, in fact, has not saved us.

The angel of God, having secretly Betrothed us one winter day, Watches over our carefree lives With fixed, darkening eyes Because of this we love the sky, Keen air, the fresh wind And the blackening branches Behind the iron fence. Because of this we love the stern Dark city with its many waterways. And we love our partings, And our brief meetings.

Like a white stone at the bottom of the well, One memory lies in me. I cannot and I do not want to struggle, It is both joy and suffering. I think that anyone who looks into my Eyes will all at once see him. More sad and pensive he'll become That heard the story of this suffering. I know that the gods had turned People to objects, without killing mind, That divine sadness lived eternally. You're turned into my memory, I find.

But don't raise your eyes in defiance, Protect my life, my dear. They're brighter than first violets, But deadly to me, I fear.

Instead of wisdom -- experience, bare, That does not slake thirst, is not wet. Youth's gone -- like a Sunday prayer. Is it mine to forget? On how many desert roads have searched I With him who wasn't dear for me, How many bows gave in church I For him, who had well loved me. I've become more oblivious than inviting, Quietly years swim. Lips unkissed, eyes unsmiling -- Nothing will give me back him.

Oh, this was a cold day In Peter's wonderful town! The shadow grew dense, and the sundown Like purple fire lay. Let him not want my eyes fair Prophetic and never-changing All life long verse he'll be catching - My conceited lips' empty prayer.

In vain you whisper sweet lies About falling under love's spell, Your stubborn and hungry eyes, - I'm afraid, I know them too well!