Best 775 quotes in «eyes quotes» category

5) The Eyes Are the Windows to Where the Soul Is Supposed to Be

4am and me. the only two beasts that will look at you sincerely.

Across the seat our eyes are holding hands.

A black boy brought Wilson's gin and he sipped it very slowly because he had nothing else to do except to return to his hot and squalid room and read a novel - or a poem. Wilson liked poetry, but he absorbed it secretly, like a drug. The Golden Treasury accompanied him wherever he went, but it was taken at night in small doses - a finger of Longfellow, Macaulay, Mangan: 'Go on to tell how, with genius wasted, Betrayed in friendship, befooled in love...' His taste was romantic. For public exhibition he has his Wallace. He wanted passionately to be indistinguishable on the surface from other men: he wore his moustache like a club tie - it was his highest common factor, but his eyes betrayed him - brown dog's eyes, a setter's eyes, pointing mournfully towards Bond Street.

A feather when viewed separately may seem like only a feather, But when seen through the eyes of truth it is a sacred instrument that lifts a bird in flight.

..a disability is something within you. A prejudice is something within the employer. ..don’t look at yourself through their eyes. Look at yourself through your own eyes.

A heartful mind can always see better than mindless eyes

...Again she did not seem to hear, still looking into Cale’s eyes. Then slowly, hopelessly, she dropped her gaze. “I understand,” she said. It was that, of course, that pierced him as if she had stabbed him through the heart. To him it was the sound of lost faith and it was unendurable. He felt he’d become a kind of god in her eyes, and it was simply impossible to give up her adoration.

All the places my mind took me were places I did not want to go.

All this seeing. All this relentless taking in.

Always see the good in everyone...learn to see through God's eyes no matter what...remember, the tables may turn tomorrow. You just never know!

Alone, all alone in the world, sad and small like a nightingale serenading the infinite. How could a love so tender and sweet become the cross of my pain? No, no, I can't conceive I won't receive your precious lips again. My eyes are tired of weeping, my heart of beating. If perhaps some crystal moment before dawn or twilight you remember me, bring only a bouquet of tears to lay upon my thirsty grave.

Almost painfully he took his eyes from her.

Always remember, that YOU are the most beautiful woman in the world. Your weight, your height, your eyes, your scars, your idiosyncrasies, your complexion, and your sartorial choices have nothing to do with beauty. The mirror lies darling. It does. Your heart is where all the beauty rests. And of course, it’s your smile that sprinkles a dash of magic! The world is a better place because of your gorgeous smile. Never walk out without a smile on our face, a zing in your step, and a high dose of faith in your heart.

Almost nothing need be said when you have eyes.

A man does not try to find out what is inside. He does not try to scratch the surface. If he did he might find something much more beautiful than the shape of a nose or the color of an eye.

And her eyes...Richard realised that he could not tell what colour her eyes were. They were not blue, or green, or brown, or grey; they reminded him of fire opals: there were burning greens and blues, and even reds and yellows that vanished and glinted as she moved.

... and all we knew about her that we didn't know the night before was that she had eyes like pansies and skin like the moon.

And being an obsessive man he did things normal men did not! Like he knew the number of strands of hair that her eye-lashes had!

And I see that his brown eye has a splash of green in it and the green one a splash of brown. Like Cezanne painted them. Impressionist eyes.

And I was fascinated by the look in bed eyes!

And Sir, it is no little thing to make mine eyes to sweat compassion.

And there you stand- Far away from the distant reality, Far away in my breathing dream, Far away in the traces of my livid eyes, Far away in my hostile fantasy.

And what about the lovers who spend hours staring into each other's eyes? Is it a display of trust? 'I will let you in close and trust you not to hurt me while I'm in this vulnerable position.' And if trust is one of the foundations of love, perhaps the staring is a way to build or reinforce it. Or maybe it's simpler than that. A simple search for connection To see. To be seen.

And yet that's the best way to watch television actively: with your eyes closed.

Any other questions?" "Just one," I say. "What color are your eyes?" I want to know what he thinks, how he sees himself - the real Ky - when he dares to look. "Blue," he says sounding surprised, "they've always been blue." "Not to me." "What do they look like to you?" he says puzzled, amused. Not looking at my mouth anymore, looking into my eyes. "Lots of colors," I say. "At first I thought they were brown. Once I thought they were green..." "What are they now?" he asks. He widens his eyes a little, leans closer, lets me look as long and deep as I want. "Well?" "Everything," I tell him, "They're everything.

Anywhere there is life, there are eyes. And things, too, speak to those who have ears to hear.

Are you prepared to look through new eyes or at least changed lens?

As a photographer you have a deep love for light, life and yourself. You know that the eyes of love aren’t blind, they are wide open. Only when your eye, heart and soul shine brighter than the sun, you realize how ordinary it is to love the beautiful, and how beautiful it is to love the ordinary.

As he stood in the darkness, his eyes glistened and that’s when I knew my light found its traction.

As I'm smiling but fearing for the worse, he asks if I was in the Navy. "NO. THIS IS JUST MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME." "WELL, I WAS... FOR NEARLY TWENTY YEARS." I don't know whether he wants me to apologize for impersonating a sailor, thank him for his service, or stop drooling as I melt into his eyes

Behind those happy eyes, you hide a mind that is terribly chaotic and that's what makes you, so beautiful.

Beshrew your eyes, They have o'erlook'd me and divided me; One half of me is yours, the other half yours, Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.

Birds are the eyes of heaven, and flies are the spies of hell.

blue eyes so light that it looked like she sent them out to be bleached

Bashfulnesse Of all our parts, the eyes expresse The sweetest kind of bashfulnesse.

But as she looked over toward the doors, her breath caught. Her eyes locked on the deep blue ones of a man just entering. He was tall and muscular, his hair blonde and well cut. And he was dressed impeccably in a dark grey suit and a deep blue tie. But it was his eyes that drew her focus and made her heart beat faster.

But if you close your eyes,does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

But I know Jesus arose. I feel his presence now, here, with me. I see the evidence of his Word everyday. From creation forth, the whole world is witness to God's plan revealed through his Son. From the beginning, he prepared us. In the passing of the seasons; in the way flowers spring forth, die, and drop seeds for life to begin again; in the sunset and sunrise. Jesus' sacrifice is reenacted every day of our lives if we but have the eyes to see.

But she bravely kept her eyes open; she was both lost and found in the soft, burning depths of his eyes.

But what good are scars if they do not ache? And what good are eyes if they do not weep? What good is desire if it does not hurt? What good is a passion if it stays ‘sleep?

By the way, the other reason I agreed to help you is because I love your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes. It's my weakness.

CALL YOURSELF Look deep in the mirror And say: 'I LOVE YOU' And immediately An electric current will Ripple throughout your soul And burst through your eyes Like shooting stars Dancing across the skies In ecstasy. To tell your soul you love it - Is like remembering WHO YOU ARE After being in a coma For a hundred years. Your face will beam the light Of a hundred galaxies.

Can we share my eyes so you can see what I see? Can we share my ears so you can hear what I hear? Can you perch on my shoulders so you can go where I go? Always in my heart, I don’t experience anything separate from you. This shared wonderment becomes doubled. This shared love becomes infinite.

Among the fluctuation of the river currents, an abyss as green as the sea, its extension and profundity as immense as the ocean opened before me: the eyes of a beautiful girl. I succumbed into that abyss instantly, like a man who falls from the highest cliff into the ocean … … and I drowned.

Anders looked up and saw Rik’s chocolate eyes. Even though they were brown, a closer look revealed a blue corona around the dark, almost mahogany brown irises. He’d seen a piece of agate like that once on a dig; a perfect marriage of brown and blue in the depths of a broken stone.

And his eyes. Don't get me started on his eyes. Just . . . don't. I can't even with this guy. So. Gorgeous. They held an invitation as well, a twinkly, heated, mesmerizing invitation. And I wanted to RSVP so hard.

... and it was quite a sad thing, the way I watched you sleep like nothing could go wrong and I did not want to harm it, I did not want to blur it, but how could I not when everything I’ve ever known has slowly gone away and I know by now that that’s the way you let the new day in with new roads and views and chances to grow but it was quite a sad thing because I don’t want this to ever become ’then’ or ’was’ and it was quite an unfamiliar thing. The way I took off my shoes again, put down my bag and quietly went back to bed, slowly between the sheets of moments I don’t want to leave and it was quite a beautiful thing the way you had no idea but still must have known because you did not even open your eyes, but turned around and took my hand and you were still asleep, breathing in and out like nothing could go wrong, but still held my hand like you were glad I didn’t leave. ’Thank you for staying’ and it was quite a wonderful thing, the way I smiled and so did you, sound asleep, and that’s all I need to know for now. That’s all I want to know for now.

...and my eyes no longer gaze the same on the face of the world.

And there I was at night, chasing after the full moon behind the clouds like a mad man in search of the reflection of the light of love in another person, without daring to light up the spark of light that I had left within myself. It was nowhere to be seen, but I felt it was out there somewhere. I've surely seen it a couple of days ago up in the sky and my eyes couldn't have lied to me, it was so beautiful, or so it appeared to be. I guess I have to stop stalking what can't be seen for awhile and let the light of the full moon find its way through my messed up soul. Maybe it's time to go to sleep and trust that another sunrise will renew what the full moon couldn't clear away tonight. During all that time, I might've not found the light of the moon, but I rested deeply with the sound of the raindrops, while gazing at the quiet river flowing slowly. What a crucial moment to be alive!