blue eyes - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
It wasn't the color of her eyes that were so breathtaking, as it was what was inside them. Smeared mascara lines and heavy eyelids. And bright. Oh, how bright they were, shining with the tears that had yet to fall in trickling lines, streaking through the caked dirt on her face. The blue-gray of stormy skies that drowned you in the rain to come.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she said, a slight crack in her voice.
I smiled slightly. "Because you are the most beautiful thing I know."
It had been too dark to get a good look at them before, but his eyes were seriously blue. Almost sickeningly blue - full on Prince Charming, field of cornflower, perfect, cloudless sky blue. Someone should name a crayon after the guy.
I used to believe his glacier eyes were ice cold, that they knew no warmth and never shared loved. That's what I used to believe. Now I know, the hottest fires always burn blue.
Evan rolled his eyes, those indigo darts - sharp yet still full of emotion. They weren't heavy or blunt, just apparent. Neither were they like Earl's grin, so barren in comparison. How each glance radiated the mischief within.
When he met her gaze, he felt drawn into her eyes. The icy blueness generated a feeling like he was being pulled into a lake of frozen emotions. It was like all the myriad shades of blue swirled together to form a whirlpool of apprehension. He could tell by her body language that she did not like him, and those flickering azure orbs confirmed his thoughts.
Her eyes sparkled like storm clouds right before lightning hit. Clouds of grey and blue threatened floods and fury while pupils dilated in passion, eyelashes catching the raindrops. She cared far too much.
His eyes were a perfect spring sky, his mind clear and his smile warmer than the gentle sun.
Dex’s eyes were electric blue, but not in the recurrent way the phrase ‘electric’ was used. Skyler was an artist, and true artists knew the colors and the many different layers there were to them. To every shade there were ten more shades abaft it, and Dex’s eyes were the perfect kind of electric blue for him. Striking yet soft. Not the electric shock that paralyzed you or crawled under your muscles, but the kind that made your blood dance.
His eyes brought to mind the forget-me-not paint of the cottage door, yet bright, shining as it did under a soft morning light.
Her eyes were the colour of a newly bloomed bluebell from the valley, enchanting, delicate. Like the flower her gaze was never direct, preferring a shy earthbound focus.
Through the open door came the most expressive eyes, expelling the last of the night's sleepiness from our minds. They were the colour of a clear blue sky through a broken prison wall; the colour of a perfect raindrop on a blue aster; the colour of a river hurrying to join the great ocean.
To say that his eyes were blue was like saying that the sun was yellow. Sufficient but not accurate to capture the burning.
His eyes were blue. Not the ordinary sky blue, or the colour of the paint flaking off of the old shed in the back of the field, or even the little flowers that spring up by the side of the road. His eyes were blue like the sea, crystal clear blue- shimmering and crashing and churning. Looking into his eyes you could hear the waves falling against the shore, see the foam flying into the air. His eyes were blue like the sky right before the sun disappears- dark rich indigo, with specks of wild colours here and there. His eyes were blue like that warm wool sweater that you put on when the air gets that chill- comfortable, warm, familiar. His eyes were that kind of blue.
Steel blue-grey eyes, the colour of sun bleached forget-me-not petals ringed with deepest indigo, the colour of bleached jeans, the colour of a Norwegian glacier, cornflower blue, palest watery blue like the eyes of a ghost, milky blue.
Her eyes were intense, and unlike the rest of her they weren't at all expressive, they were cold, like ice. Most blue eyes are so captivating you swear that you could just dive into them with the peak of awe nipping at your facial features, but when you peered into her frozen irises you feel an electrical chill run down your spine, through your body making your features numb, like ice. Every tendril of various shades of incandescent striking white-blue staying lined up next to one and other making her eyes them selves seem like a white tundra, its as if a blizzard is eternally raging on with a black void in the center that are her pupils. They don't capture light,but defy it, they're so, so blue that they literally glow, but there is the occasion that she smiles.
His eyes fluttered open, revealing icy blues that were framed with thick long lashes. It pierced right through her, those cold eyes of his. She was dead nervous, she did not know how scary and intimidating his eyes could be. No matter how less of a war freak that boy looked like, she knew those faint glints in his eyes as well. She had seen them before, they were unmistakably the eyes of a killer, there was no doubt it.
His eyes shined so impossibly blue that she'd spent her childhood believing he had his own sky inside of him.
Glancing into the mirror, he froze. Never had he ever realized just how much his eyes caught the beauty of deep oceans glittering in the light of the moon. Cut just right, even the darkest of sapphire couldn't hold light to the electric fire that burned each rim and shimmered just under his glossy gaze.
He would describe her eyes as like the ocean, they were iridescent and flecked with every shade of blue.
Even his eyes were in uniform, matching the navy blue of his officer regalia.
Her eyes were stunning. Yes, you could say they were blue. But that would surely be an understatement. To think that my own blue irises were captivating was a lie compared to her pupils. They reminded you of a fragile piece of blue china, the lightest shade of teal, the sea floor in which you could be swimming in right this second. Her eyes reminded you of something...extravagant. I knew, in that moment and in that moment only, that the twinkle in her eyes was the most beautiful thing you could witness in your short-long lifetime.
Her eyes were almost translucent, glossy, like the palest blue glass, too soft to be turquoise, too bright to be baby blue.
His eyes were the cool blue of a shark as he watched me cross the empty room.
His eyes were the colour of unpolished blue kyanite with flecks of navy.
His eyes were blue. They were the blue that froze you in place, captivated you for even the slightest of moments. Her whole life she had sworn there was a sky trapped behind his pupils. It seemed to extend farther than she could ever comprehend. She wondered how many stars his eyes held.
His eyes were blue; that didn't even begin to explain all the complicated depths and colors that were there, too.
The color blue of his eyes I have never seen before. They are so mesmerizing that it is as if they looked deep into my soul. I could not take my eyes off of them.
They say that the eyes are the window to the soul. I didn't believe that, not only does it sound ridiculous, but it is physically impossible. But of course there is always evidence for each theory. I didn't believe in souls or windows on bodies, which probably sounds really weird. But that is until the day I made the acquaintance of Augustus Elgort. His hair was light brown and his personality was indescribable. But his eyes. Gus's eyes were a brilliant bright blue. Each time our eyes caught one another, I would stare. I don't know what I saw in his eyes. Maybe it was love, maybe it was his soul, maybe it was just really intense and vivacious blue attractive eyes. But I knew I saw something. And that's when I asked "Why are your eyes so blue?" He claimed it was his 'chick magnet charm'. His personality was almost as amazing as his eyes. However, personality I thought, comes from the soul and if his eyes in anyway are a window to his personality, I think I like this theory.
Her eyes were as warm as an arctic blast, one gaze and I was chilled to the bone. I had always been attacted to blue,but after that I never saw it in the same light.
His eyes were blue. Not like the sky which would let the sun rise in it, and let it scatter its light. Not like the sea which would reflect the moonlight, and shine like a diamond. But they were liked ice, transparent. And everytime I looked at them I could see that the ice was like frozen tears. His fears, sadness, weakness, everything was trapped in those eyes. And they looked so cold, like his stare could freeze the whole world in a moment.
Clara's eyes were the most unlikely shade of blue. It was like someone had somehow managed to trap a thousand volts of electricity inside her irises and now they spun there, sparking angrily at their imprisonment, hovering somewhere between deep blue and violet. The owner of the eyes seemed to be able to harness their raw power at will, frying anyone she chose with a single glance. Electricity is dangerous, but for my money Clara Barnett was a hundred times more deadly.
Her eyes was of such a blue as Eric had never seen in eyes before, the tint of the sea in the still calm light that follows after a fine sunset; they were as luminous as the stars that came out over Lindsay Harbour in the afterglow, and were fringed about with very long soot-black lashes, and arched over by the most delicately pencilled dark eyebrows.
His eyes were a brilliant electric blue.
She would describe his blue eyes as the color of the midwinter sky,
He had electrifying blue eyes which are probably only like that because when I see him my heart beats so fast it could power the whole city.
As calm as the sky before the storm, but as wild as the sea during one. Those were his eyes. As bright as sapphires, but as dull as the baby blue of a newborns room. Everything, and nothing, all at once.
I can't believe you spent your life hating your eyes. Why would you hate something so beautiful? Your eyes make the sky and ocean look grey. Your eyes, that sparkle in the sun or moonlight, would make sapphires envious. Perhaps some would say that your eyes are cold and chilling, like the glowing snow and they are right; but what they arent saying is; your eyes are like the snow, yes, but your eyes shine and sparkle more lively than anything of water crystals could. Your gaze could take a person's breath away. A wink from you could stop someone's heart. Your eyes, your beautiful blue eyes. I can't believe you have spent your life not seeing how amazing your deep eyes are.
I swear that your eyes have such beauty trapped in them, they could never be sufficiently described in just a few words. Darling, your eyes require pages as long as the ocean is deep. Your eyes, aren't just a plain blue. They're a true blue, with ripples of rich sapphire, and little specks of emerald glistening through them, there is not a single thing that I have witnessed that could possibly be more beautiful. I could stare into the deep oceans in your eyes everyday, and still find them as stunning as when I saw them for the first time.
For a second, I was half-convinced that their eyes were the same color as the snow surrounding them: pure, unbroken white that could've easily blinded anyone who stared too long. Then the boy (the older of the two, I guessed) tilted his head to look behind us and I noticed their true color.
My first guess wasn't too far off, honestly. Though their hair and skin coloration suggested that dark eyes were the norm in that family, at least at some point, theirs were of a blue so pale it easily reflected the sun banking off the snow they were sat in.
Later my mind suggested the word watchet to describe the boy's eyes; the girl's, though, reminded me more of the color of hyacinths in spring even with the slight glaze over them. Especially striking in combination with their pale, rosy skin and black hair that lay in unruly cowlicks even after being brushed; no wonder they'd been taken for experimentation. Anyone who looked even slightly outside the norm for the area was tracked down, hunted even, and these children definitely stood out.
So why had they been released, or had they escaped? Whichever it was, I wasn't getting anything out of them at the moment as they seemed to be mute. Also a misconception, I found...at least on part of the girl who almost never was quiet. By the time she'd been brought to a safer place, we all knew her name, age, and life story including the time they'd spent in the research facility. The boy -- her brother -- was less of the garrulous sort but gave in to his sister's cajoling when asked to sing to pass the time.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he watched his own reflection dance in her silver blue eyes — all icy and unfeeling yet oh so apparent.
His eyes were blue like the ocean, shimmering and crashing beneath the sunset. Looking into his eyes was like looking through a fragile piece of turquoise sea glass, which laid in the sand glistening in the sunlight.
His eyes were the blue of a water so deep that you were afraid to jump in, but you were still tempted to.
His eyes were as blue as the azure sky.
In her renewed silence, only her eyes glow. They aren't yellow like a comic book cat, but the softest of blue - like they soaked in the spring sky only hours ago and are now letting it radiate out gently into the twilight.
His eyes were a chilling, pale blue, less like ice and more like a blizzard, terrifying and filled with cold fury. Deceptive and filled with a vow of a monstrous wrath.
The boy whipped his head back to her with such suddenness she started, his eyes burning into her own with an abrupt intensity. It registered in her subconscious that they clashed spectacularly with his mop of vivid crimson hair; they were an arctic blue, but with more warmth and more emotion-- a bittersweet melody strung over the last rays of a summer sky.
Her eyes are such an odd - yet alluring - shade of blue, so light they are near transparent. Behind them, I see the concern that she tries to hide from me.