Eyes Quotes
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My father... had sharper eyes than the rest of our people.
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Weak eyes are fondest of glittering objects.
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I worked for a lot of candidates, in tough campaigns that lost. Most of my candidates lost until Bill Clinton. There was always a point where you look in their eyes and they knew it was over. And there was never that point with Clinton. He never quit. He never gave up.
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Gen. Scott saw more through the eyes of his staff officers than through his own.
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I knew nothing when I first met him. He taught me to see things through his eyes. Dalí was my teacher. He let me use his brushes, his paint and his canvas, so that I could play around while he was painting for hours and hours in the same studio. Surrealism was a good school for me. Listening to Dalí talk was better than going to any art school.
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The hottest look for a night out is a deep side part. If that part is not at least three inches in length, then start over. The wider the part, the more open your eyes appear. It is an alluring and seductive look that will keep your date's attention the entire night.
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I once knew a girl In the years of my youth With eyes like the summer All beauty and truth In the morning I fled Left a note and it read Someday you will be loved.
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Patrick imagined Kay’s father sunk in the back of the car, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion and his lungs, like torn fishing nets, trawling vainly for air.
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I stone got crazy when I saw somebody run down them strings with a bottleneck. My eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and I said that I had to learn.
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It's something that's always been there for me, that I have huge blue eyes - it's been something that people have always talked about.
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I always feel that life can teach you how to act. I'm always looking at life through other people's eyes. By feeling empathy. And I do feel that I am constantly learning.
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There was no way that I wanted him to stop touching me, even for a few hours. My pulse thudded as I glanced across at the camp bed. I cleared my throat. "Wel...is there a reason we can't both take the bed? The sleeping bags zip together, don't they?" Alex stared at me without moving. "Would that be OK?" I asked, feeling nervous suddenly. The lantern light made his eyes look darker, his hair almost black. He started to smile, a grin spreading across his face. "Yes, that would be extremely OK.
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Every time I look into his eyes I just want to take the ice cream or whatever I've got in my hand and rub it into his face. That's how much I like him.
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Might have been the moonlight,Caught up in the sparkle in your eyes.So wicked and I know I should go slow but it's not in me to wait.Cause I'm alive and I'm on fire.Shot like a starburst into the sky.And the fury of desire it burns so bright electrifiesYou light me up, you take me higher.
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'Yeah, I have a question,' said the guy with the wicked eyes... 'My question is, I quit. I'm going to quit.'
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When I think of Emily Dickinson, there's not one particular poem of hers that jumps out, but I do have a very vivid image of an ill woman with giant eyes who wants to write about the sun exploding.
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I keep my ears open. The world can change overnight; that's what happens in this world. You never know. You have to keep your eyes and ears open. If you can't keep up, you ain't gonna catch up. I've been making records since 1953, and you just have to keep up.
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'They follow the creed of the Bright: that which disturbs the order of society must be eliminated, regardless of whether it caused the disturbance.' She rolled her eyes. 'You’d think they’d get tired of parroting Itempas and start thinking for themselves after two thousand years.'
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Yeah, I do. Roses are red, violets are blue. I wanna poke your f***ing eyes out with my dick, you f***.
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But genius looks forward: the eyes of men are set in his forehead, not in his hindhead: man hopes: genius creates.
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The novelist is required to open his eyes on the world around him and look. If what he sees is not highly edifying, he is still required to look. Then he is required to reproduce, with words, what he sees.
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Justice is always violent to the party offending, for every man is innocent in his own eyes.
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Perhaps looking out through big baby eyes - if we could - would not be as revelatory experience as many imagine. We might see a world inhabited by objects and people, a world infused with causation, agency, and morality - a world that would surprise us not by its freshness but by its familiarity.
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A very beautiful honey blonde, Sharon Tate, looked into the eyes of the man who the evidence shows just four and a half months later would order her tragic and violent death.
