Quotes About Eyes

This was fun," Ali said. Myron was still smiling. Ali looked up at him with these wonderful green-brown eyes. She had red-blond hair and there were still remnants of childhood freckles. Her face was wide and her smile just held him. "What?" she said. "You look beautiful." "Man, you are smooth." "I don't want to brag, but yes. Yes, I am." Ali

Awareness started to creep in, clawing its way past the pain and numbness. He was lying on cold ground, his right cheek on a rough, hard floor. Concrete maybe. Adam tried to open his eyes, but it felt like spiders had spun webs across them. When he blinked hard, a fresh surge of pain nearly made him gasp out loud. When

But Sergio Leone invented totally the way of, you know, the details, the eyes, the hands - fantastic.

Both liquid and pencil eyeliner can be used on the top and bottom eyes. I then use eye shadow over the pencil to blend evenly to ensure there's no skipping and patchiness. With pencil as a base, it's easier to get a seamlessly blended effect. If a stronger line is desired, trace over the pencil line with liquid eyeliner.

Everything's got space between it, the planets, trees, your eyes. Your eyes get too close together, it's a whole different world. You can lose perspective.

Your eyes in which I travel Have given to signs along the roads A meaning alien to the earth.

The proprietor had hair so red that pigmentation had flowed out into every visible inch of his skin and even into the pinks of his eyes, as the colour of flowering cherry trees stains their leaves.

Sleep lingers all our lifetime about our eyes, as night hovers all day in the boughs of the fir-tree.

Stunted varieties were generally chosen, particularly if they had the side branches opposite or regular, for much depends upon this; a one-sided tree is of no value in the eyes of the Chinese.

Hearts can deceive. Words can deceive. But eyes we should trust.

At the time I could no more believe my eyes than now I can trust my memory.

Trust is an absurd phenomenon, logically absurd. That's why logic always says love is blind, although love has its own eyes, far more deep-going...still, to logic it is blind.

The truth can be glimpsed only through the eyes of death.

I have noticed that if you look carefully at people's eyes the first five seconds they look at you, the truth of their feelings will shine through for just an instant before it flickers away.

It was strange to hear a wolf sigh in clear annoyance and see it roll its eyes. No. It wasn't strange…it was weird.

What did you really do to him?" Cella had to ask her. "Nothin'." "Smith," she said, stopping by the bear. "The man shit, pissed, and vomited after spending less than thirty minutes with you. There has to be a reason." "Got me. All I did was stare at him until he told me something I could use." The bear looked Smith over. "Did you stare at him with those eyes of yours?" "I have my daddy's eyes.

Beware, lion's lady, for your predator is hungry tonight. He may not wait long before devouring you." "Devouring me?" she asked, challenge gleaming in her eyes. "What if I devour him first?

He watched her emerald eyes darken with need until they were the color of the Highland hills warmed by the summer sun.

Sophia Loren said, "Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical.

And in the depth of her eyes were all these years—seasons they'd known, paths they'd trod. Slowly he entered her again. Everything reflected in her gaze: shyness, yearning, ripples of pleasure. The pleasure turned fierce, then ferocious. He labored to draw breath. In the wash of her climax, she closed her eyes. He closed his own eyes and yielded to the moment.

How dirty she was, how thin, what a wild look she had! I have never seen a wilder-looking creature. Her eyes were bright. They were like the eyes of a wild animal.

She is always pretending she loves me, but look at her now. Am I in her thoughts? Is there a tender look in her eyes? Is she dreaming of me as she walks along the streets?

Besides, what is pretty, anyway?" she continues. "Eyes? What does the color matter, as long as the ones you love can see themselves shining there? A mouth? Wide or narrow, so long as it speaks the truth.

These women, for all their superb drafsmanship and compositional skill, remained minor painters because they had "lifted" a set of traditions and a view of the world that was inauthentic for them. They worked within the limits of what had been defined as female by a male tradition: they saw women through male eyes, painted a male's idea of female.