The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonised the whole — And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!
I've just tried to keep my eyes open, tried to read everything you can, and tried to see whether I see myself within it. If I do, then I can get excited about it.
As so many commitments demand your time Or your shut-eye important be, Your attraction to me must in some way lack, Such a pity to spend time on thee.
I just can't stand the sound of my voice sometimes, or how my face looks. There are always a few times at every premiere when I just have to cover my eyes when I'm up there.
The spookiest thing for me is when I think I see something, and then nothing is there. I always imagine I see something, or I'll catch movement out of the corner of my eye, but nothing is really there.
The objects that are of moderate energy, like our sun or most of the stars that we see in the night sky with the naked eye, are objects in which relatively moderate energy processes are taking place.
I stand up. Stretch my arms out wide to the empty horizon. Do not be afraid of limitless possibilities. The desert is infinite to the eye as love is to the heart.
I would say any behavior that is not the status quo is interpreted as insanity, when, in fact, it might actually be enlightenment. Insanity is sorta in the eye of the beholder.
Once you are a model, you do have to fly a million red-eye flights, and you do have to entertain a different client every single day.
I feel like a lot of the portrayals of, in particular, younger minority ethnic characters on television, a lot of their dialogue, a lot of their characteristics, a lot of their personality in a writer's eyes, is kind of propelled through their ethnic...
Forget about lien about you behind your back and talking nonsense, some people can lie to you looking in your eyes...
Once we deeply trust that we ourselves are precious in God's eyes, we are able to recognize the preciousness of others and their unique places in God's heart.
To die, so young to die. No, no, not I, I love the warm sunny skies, light, song, shining eyes, I want no war, no battle cry, No, no, not I.
Rachel Cusk's books are like pop-up volumes for grown-ups, the prose springing out of the page to bop you neatly between the eyes with its insights.
After years in utter darkness, I force my eyes into the light. For I must retain my sight, that I might view the wholeness of the void, objectively.
It is clear from all these data that the interests of teenagers are not focused around studies, and that scholastic achievement is at most of minor importance in giving status or prestige to an adolescent in the eyes of other adolescents.
I think I probably have the philosophy of a poor man. You know, like maybe I'd steal the pennies off a dead man's eyes.
I am no Poet here; my pen's the spout where the rain water of my eyes run out.
Look at me; what can your eyes see? Is it your or is it me? I am you; you are me. Whenever I look, my reflection I can see.
I like stories with a collision of disparate tones. Look at 'Shameless' or 'House of Lies'. They go from big, silly, and comedic to very real dramatic moments in the wink of an eye.
Hi. My name is Debby, and I am a storyteller. I don't think of myself as an actress. I am more like a face that takes words on a page, and puts them in front of your eyes.
