Quotes About Eyes

Already a minute crack had appeared, and it was clear that when that crack split and widened, out into that utter Blackness would crawl a Gorkling whose eyes would burn red.

Does the brain see or do the eyes see? If the brain sees, then we can only perceive reality based on what we have wired into our brain.

The beard was actually less Dumbledore, more Hemingway, but the eyes behind the lenses of his glasses were a brilliant shade of blue that naturally suggested a man who could cast runes and speak to trees. Harper

They glowed in the darkness, all of them: pale shining wisps with rings of light where their eyes belonged, as if they were the dead—ghosts risen from their graves—not Gilbert Cline. Harper felt their grief as a slow current of cold water, and herself as a leaf revolving upon it. As

But other creatures of the desert do seem to apprehend what is happening. Through the crosshairs of its huge pupils, a tarantula watches Angie's skin drink in the danger: the pollen from the Joshua mixes with the red blood on her finger. On a fuchsia ledge of limestone, a dozen lizards witness the Leap. They shut their gluey eyes as one, sealing their lucent bodies from contagion, inter-kingdom corruption.

The deep and vivid blueness of the sky was a little disorientating. The sunshine was headache-bright, bothered my eyes.

The face was bulbous and pink and hairless, utterly unremarkable, a Sunday school teacher's face, and that was the most unsettling part of it. Although he was probably my dad's age or older, the slack, anonymous complexion and dead eyes made it impossible to exactly pinpoint his age. He could have been a wax statue, a young actor made up to look old, or an amateurishly embalmed corpse.

Color had flushed back through her cheeks, and the metallic brightness in her swollen eyes wasn't entirely rational, but it was alive, watchful.

She was completely soaked in blood. Her hair swung in red tangles around her shoulders, and her face was a gleaming mask, her eyes like hard diamonds. I am Death.

Teardrop Tattoo locked eyes with me, and I saw my own death reflected there. It was not heroic or meaningful or even particularly interesting, just bloody, painful, awkward, and agonizing.

That's when I got it. The rough canvas. God paints our bodies over that, over our heart and soul. It's the eyes that tell us what we're really seeing, what's underneath. So all I painted in the picture were greens. Patterns, random slashes, shapes over shapes, shadows, emotions, it's all there.

He looked down at her, the wild reckless passion of the artist in his eyes, daring her to tame him, begging her to try.

Let many things unfold before their eyes, Let the crowd stare and be amazed, for then You'll win their hearts, and that's to win the prize;

If I never meet you In this life Let me feel the lack A glance from your eyes Then my life Will be yours

Green is my favorite. And it's my favorite because it's the color of my wife's eyes, grass, trees, life, and money, and mother earth!

Life is still life, whatever its pangs; our eyes and ears and their use remain with us, though the prospect of what pleases be wholly withdrawn, and the sound of what consoles must be silenced.

There are moments when suddenly our eyes blink open and we recapture the excitement of living. Life becomes an adventure and we, adventurers.

There are no seacaves deeper than her eyes;

He was contemplation and enthusiasm. Ambition and strong coffee. All that was there, in the lids of his brown eyes, his smooth skin, his lower lip pushed out. There was coiled energy inside.

Cuando está allí, su piel pálida y ojos llorosos hacen que luzca glamorosamente trágica, como una heroína literaria desgastándose con el consumo.

Gat, mi Gat. Él es contemplación y entusiasmo. Ambición y café intenso. Me encantan los parpados de sus ojos castaños, su lisa piel oscura, el labio inferior que sobresale. Su mente. Su mente.

He looked at you like you were the brightest place in the galaxy.

watching the original thousand-year Reich collapse before his eyes, the 36-year-old Hegel felt compelled to come up with an explanation and this led him to formulate a philosophy of history.

eyes were closed again. Apparently she didn't find dragon flight as exciting