There is such dissociation between what the eyes see and what the mind envisions. The final thought is just a matter of interpretation, coloured by our experiences.
Perform all thy actions with mind concentrated on the Divine, renouncing attachment and looking upon success and failure with an equal eye. Spirituality implies equanimity. [Trans. Purohit Swami]
I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.
You’re a solid person, Sage. You’re easy on the eyes, if a little skinny, and your ability to memorize useless information is going to totally hook in some guy.
I stood there on the corner of the street, I held on to your hand, I looked into your eyes, And all you responded with was, "move on
I'd never criticize gay people for being gay. That would be the same thing as criticizing someone for having brown eyes, as far as I'm concerned.
Why do only the awful things become fads? I thought. Eye-rolling and Barbie and bread pudding. Why never chocolate cheesecake or thinking for yourself?
Today a woman must ignore her reflection in the eyes of her lover, since he might admire her, and seek it in the gaze of the God of Beauty, in whose perception she is never complete.
What are you?” he demanded. “A slayer?" I rolled my eyes. “The name's Val, not Buffy. Do I look like a blond cheerleader with questionable taste in men?
And when I look into his eyes there’s a feeling of something I can only describe as familiarity, a sense of safety. Like coming home.
A teen boy's wet dream, right here, right in front of him. Elliott closed his eyes, trying to reason with his raging erection, which argued,
You look at me with them eyes of yers, an I look at yer lips... an all I can think about is what it'ud be like to kiss you.
Believe me, I’ve lived long enough to know that no matter how stable a life may seem, there’s always something that can change all of that in a blink of an eye.
So if I was to choose? Then I choose complicated,” I said, with a nod of finality. I met his eyes again in a silent challenge. “I choose you.
The cut under his eye and the split skin on his lower lip only enhanced his profile. He didn’t look defeated. He looked like a fighter. A champion.
He switched off the light, came back and sat in the chair. In the darkness, Liesel kept her eyes open. She was watching the words.
Papa was a man with silver eyes, not dead ones. Papa was an accordion! But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.
That is what I want to tell you about: the girls with their short skirts and bright eyes and big-city dreams. The girls of 1929.
Give me the purple smoke, rising higher and higher into my brain until I dance with the purple butterflies.” -Girl with the violet eyes.
He was the second snowman to be melting away before her eyes, only this one was different. It was a paradox. The colder he became, the more he melted.
I recalled my father-in-law's aphorism "To fool a judge, feign fascination, but to bamboozle the whole court, feign boredom..." & I pretended to extract a speck from my eye.
