Yet how bored they both looked, and how wearily Ethel regarded Jim sometimes, as if she wondered why she had trained the vines of her affection on such a wind-shaken poplar.
Nico studied his face – his sea-green eyes, his grin, his ruffled black hair. Somehow Percy Jackson seemed like a regular guy now, not a mythical figure. Not someone to idolize or crush on.
Eugene's got a fake ID, and he actually gets away with using it because he looks like he's thirty-six, thanks to his devotion to tasseled shoes and his ridiculous carpet of chest hair.
His eyes opened, and he stared at me. The morning light was streaming through the window,and my hair rolled in waves over either shoulder. “God has smiled upon me. I have the most beautiful wife in all the land.
And for a moment there, despite the bruising, despite the snarled dirty hair, despite her sunburned skin and the suffering in her eyes that she refused to let defeat her, she was one of the prettiest things he'd ever seen. ~Dallas and Amy~
His voice was oily and slick as it poured from his mouth like liquid acid, threatening to hook onto the woman's hair like a fishing hook and drag her back to death.
Te amo, Querida," he whispered, stroking her hair. "Tu eres mi luz en la oscuridad." I love you. You are my light in the darkness.
One of my favorite things about working on 'Glory Daze' is getting to wear amazing '80s outfits coupled with fabulously over-the-top hair and makeup. My wardrobe usually consists of colorful sweaters, denim skirts, high-waisted shorts, crop tops, dan...
I found the skeleton of a caveman a few years back. Miraculously, it had skin and hair still attached, and amazingly my archaeological discovery actually talked to me saying, “Jarod, when are you going to stop mooching off your mother and me?
I felt as if the Milky Way, hovering above our heads like a celestial pitcher, had suddenly overturned, pouring suns and planets down my throat. Stars seemed to be shooting out of my finger and toes, the ends of my hair.
Your guardian angel never, ever stops communicating with you. I feel that at times they should be frustrated with us but they seem to have endless patience and they never ever give up on us.
Hermione drew herself to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her hair seemed to crackle with electricity. "No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother.
The pale whiteness of her upturned face as she choked on the smoke; the tangled length of her hair as she tried to shake the flames from it; the beauty of her cherry-blossom robe as it burst into flame: it was all so cruel, so terrible!
Women are amazing. You can wait for months, travel thousands of kilometers, and build up ineffable desire. They just brush their hair.
LADY BRACKNELL I had some crumpets with Lady Harbury, who seems to me to be living entirely for pleasure now. ALGERNON I hear her hair has turned quite gold from grief.
She stops now. Leans over me so that the wisps of her hair tickle my face. She kisses me on the forehead. 'You still have a family,' she whispers.
You were twisting your wet hair up into a ponytail, and then you saw us, and you smiled...." "Then why didn't you-" "Because you were smiling for him. And I would have had to have been an idiot to get in between that.
And there was this sweet-looking little old lady with her white hair in a bun and everything, the typical grandmother type, and she was swearing her head off. I guess Alzheimer's had brought out her inner sailor.
He turns back to me, a strong hand swooping down and sculpting hair off my face, familiar looking arms curling back around me and cradling me into a chest harder and hotter than a mountain left baking in the Australian outback.
It was dark, so I couldn't make out much of her face, but she had brilliant red hair, like honey and roses and the sun altogether.
You're the brightest thing in the room," he said. He lifted his hand from my waist, and slowly, carefully brushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek. "You shine.
