Jack: "..You were the only one I saw when I closed my eyes" Lexi: "Then why wasn't I enough when they were open?
Theo looked at me with his smoldering Jesus eyes, and the Catholic schoolgirl in me crossed her legs.
My thoughts are all over the place as I fall asleep, and images of clouded roses and angry green eyes flow through my dreams.
She wished she had eyes like her sister, huge and bright, constantly straddling the line between terrified child and ingénue.
She saw the scarlet thread of her lips, the light in her eyes, the family through their love, their children running barefoot in a fresh field.
It's strange to see people you don't know well in the morning, with sleepy eyes and pillow creases in their cheeks
He looked people in the eye not because he was interested in them but because he knew it made them feel that he was interested in them
The eyes were of a color which he could never decide on, afterwards when he told the story he used to say they were the color of everything in Spring.
profanity and obscenity entitle people who don't want unpleasant information to close their ears and eyes to you.
My eyes trail from his hand to the tattoo written in small script across his forearm. Hopeless
The horse respects and obeys man because its large eyes magnify everything, so man appears much larger than the horse itself.
Friend who has fired the kingfishers and flamed the dragonflies – they catch your light however they move and beam it out of their eyes.
My eyes are open and I’m not seeing a thing because I am so lost inside.
To an untrained eye, need and love were as easily mistaken for each other as the real master's painting and a forgery.
Let’s get you one, Anna.” “A lover?” Edith rolled her eyes. “No. A fucking houseplant. Yes, a lover.” Edith smirked. “It’ll cheer you up!
In his eyes I saw all the other possibilities. The dream-world possibilities. The fairytale possibilities. The seemingly impossible possibilities.
That nagging state of constant thought that exists somewhere between the ears and behind the eyes is the self.
Pride filled him. He'd put that soft look in her eye, the purr in her voice, and given her loose limbed ease.
My heartfelt appreciation goes out to Jan Zwicky, Don McKay, John Barton, Barry Dempster, Carolyn Forché and Elizabeth Philips for their masterful eyes and minds.
The modern state does not comprehend how anyone can be guided by something other than itself. In its eyes pluralism is treason.
Everything is, the way it is, for a reason. Or it isn't. Or neither. Or both. It's so hard to tell. It's so hard to tell you're a mile away by the Luke in your eye.
