brown eyes - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
My Grandpa, the Jew, with his soulful laugh and the sort of brown eyes that bring hearth-sipped hot cocoa to the memory.
Those brown eyes are a million hues, so I wonder what the word "brown" even means. They are the forest and the autumnal leaves, the soil in summer and after the rains. How could we ever reduce something so spellbinding to one word, when the colours invite us to marvel in their simplicity.
In those earthy hues was his soul, not in they way of those cheesy romance novels, so obsessed with lust, but with the kind of beauty that expands a moment into a personal eternity, a heaven you wish to be a part of.
She focused on his eyes, which were darting back and fourth, shining in the sunlight. They were a deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. But there was something else in them, something glistening. Glistening like an old copper penny being examined in the warmth next to powerful flames that were licking the safety glass door of an old fireplace. They held secrets, the same way a pot holds layers of deep soil- cradling- because it is essential to keep the plant safe. The roots are held in place the same way his dark, liquidy eyes held so tightly onto his secrets.
Her eyes were a hickory as rich as the earth’s soil; stained with the colour of hot chocolate on a cold, winter night that wraps around you like a blanket; engulfs you in its warmth and makes you feel at home. Those deep pools of dark-cinnamon swirls seized the depth and heaviness of one thousand untold stories, which imprisoned the sweetness of saccharine chocolate and the bitterness of strong coffee. They consisted of raw emotion and if you observe closely, they will reveal to you the exact thought that crosses the marvels of her ominous mind.
On the other side of all that… Her brown-mahogany orbs scintillated with a mischievous glint that could be noticed next to the umber that rimmed her iris. They glow with humor and playfulness that never seem to escape her eyes. Nevertheless, her eyes possess sorrow that placed a melancholic veil, which cloaked her eyes; it seemed as if it made the happiness in her eyes matte.
Yet, when she smiled. The corners of her beauteous eyes lustered happiness in soft twinkles, which reflected the light that made her eyes copper against caramel. Likewise, her eyes glazed with a liquid that will reveal to you the pure blissfulness, which glistered inside the almond, circumscribed by eye-lined lashes.
Her iris was a large stain of wood and ebony pigments… Its size gave it a sense of innocence and purity. This is the part where you can see all the buried kindness eclipsed behind the saturated colour of fine, exquisite oud. There was some sort of goodness in her eyes, which tells you that no matter what she did, their intention will never carry any hint of malevolence or malignity whatsoever. The kindness may not be necessarily be shown or exposed. But if you look closely, you can reveal all the mysteries that are hidden in the deep beds of those big, brown eyes. From the surface of the stolen specks in sunlight, to the abyss in the abysmal depths of dusky, auburn.
Her eyes were the type of brown that was like a sweet chocolate. The chocolate that melts at the slightest bit of the heat from love, or happiness. But that chocolate can also grow hard from the cold harsh reality that is apparent in this world. Heartbreak, or the depression that she hid from all those around her so well.
His eyes reminded me of the old barn door, flecks of deep brown married with lighter hues, so much strength remaining despite the years of weathering, so much life.
His eyes were the color of deep sienna, with a mischievous glint that seemed to reflect the corners of his mouth, which were fighting a smile. They were every shade of brown you could imagine, a raw umber and caramel mix, dotted with bits of dark chocolate. They glow with humor and playfulness that gives you shivers and wraps you in a warm embrace at the same time.
He locks eyes with me and I see just how deep they really are. They're not a solid brown. Spirals of earthy brown colliding with honey droplets and even a green color fill those two orbs with magnificent light.
His eyes were the colour of earth kissed by spring rains, the hue that promises to stir life from dormant seeds, the nascent plants guided upward by the light before blossoming into the vibrant colours of a new season.
His eyes were the shade of acorns, just bright enough to shine in the shadows. I often kept my gaze to the soil or else tilted upward to the sky, but when I was brave enough to meet them a shiver of golden light would race down my spine, every time, every time.
His eyes shone like new growth on the boughs of the trees, free of moss, bright, youthful. His gaze was cool waters on flames, soft rain on petals, the sky lightening after a storm.
My memories of his youthful, deceitful, mahogany eyes will forever be remembered. His eyes always reminded me of seasons changing, a little bit of everything, but none the less beautiful.
It blows my mind that after all this time you've spent on earth nobody has ever bothered to tell you your eyes aren't brown. They are copper against honey and when they water they glow like two perfect orbs the same shade as nature after it rains. They are warm and sweet like milk chocolate; when you look at me and smile the creases frame them in perfect happiness. They are hot chocolate on a cold fall night at a football game, the soft warmness of them wraps around me like a blanket and makes me feel at home.
Eyes like sunlight shining through whiskey
Eyes the colour of rich soil flecked with black, eyes the colour of dark chocolate with flecks of hazel nut, sable eyes, the colour of hot chocolate, the deep brown of the winter trees at twilight, the lightened brown of parched summer soil, glossy chestnut brown, the colour of unvarnished oak with deep mahogany flecks, the colour of apple pips, mottled like varnished cork, the colour of a dessert palm tree with flecks of acorn shell.
His eyes were the colour of hot cocoa, sprinkled with tiny flecks of gold like mini marshmallows.
eyes the color of espresso, rich with reddish brown flecks
Her eyes were a delicate cinnamon with a deep brown rim around the iris.
The eyes that stared back at me were as brown as the beer bottle in his hand.
Often I’ve heard people call brown eyes boring and how they lack the fun and audacity of colourful eyes (That is, eyes that are different colours at different times). It is outrageous. How can they call brown eyes uninteresting? Brown eyes are like a transparent lake. And well, mind the use of the adjective for most lakes are not transparent. In fact no lakes I’ve ever seen are. You are unable to see what lies at the bottom and well obviously you never should be able to considering the physics of the world and that is the mystery in them lakes. However, brown eyes have a sense of openness as well as a hint of enigma. To me, though they may be common, they always seem exotic. Besides they always remind me of chocolate specked with gold.
His eyes were the colour of dark roasted coffee beans with flecks of mocha latte.
His eyes were the colour of coconut shells and radiated the warmth of a tropical beach.
The eyes of the deer were as rich as molasses and just as liquid.
The eyes that met mine were as glossy and brown as a beetle.
Xander's liquid brown eyes looked down at me sorrowfully. I felt like I was falling into a pool of deep chocolate. Darrel's eyes had been blue, and had fallen into the sea when I was with him, and the sea is dangerous. Chocolate is not a dangerous thing, however. Xander's eyes shone in the fading sunset, his gaze as unwavering as a war-horse's gait. I couldn't seem to look away. Books always go on about how blue eyes are pretty, but brown eyes are beautiful. My hand lifted of its own accord and it caressed his cheek, touching the corner of his eye. I detected a hint of desire behind his stereotype indifferent expression in his eyes. Shadows danced across his face as he shut his eyes, his eyelashes sending sparks across my fingers. I realised too late that I loved him.
His sweet eyes were toffee brown.
She would describe her brown eyes as the colour of baked clay.
The red-rimmed eyes were the colour of burnt umber.
His eyes were a the colour of winter roasted chestnuts with rims of darkest chocolate.
He was mesmerized by the deep swirls of brown that colored her pupils. The golden black mascara on her half-opened eyelids added a smoky and dramatic look. With her translucent honey-colored eyes and long eyelashes, her eyes looked like a cat's.
The cat-like eyes seemed to look through the dark recesses of peculiar anomaly that was usually hidden behind a mask. She reminded him of a cat prowling into the dark night unnoticed by others- stalking and spying in the dark alleys.
Her feline features somehow matched her personality- silent and alert but almost unnoticed. When her sexy stare fell upon him, he looked away, catching the eye of his girlfriend sitting next to him.
Her eyes were the colour of rich country fudge.
The nutmeg eyes were flecked with deeper brown.
Her eyes were the colour of soft brown sugar.
Your eyes are like rust blooming across rain washed steel, bursts of colour among the darkness. They are chips of sunlit amber; copper coins scattered across whirled mahogany; from honey sweet to the sea battered rocks that pierce the ships. Dangerous. Deadly. Beautiful.
Cinnamon brown eyes, acorn brown eyes speckled with hazel.
Deep brown eyes the colour of melted chocolate that stared deep into my soul.
When the golden sunlight hits my eyes at the perfect angle, it sparkles like a dark Orange Topaz, my birthstone.
Under the sun, they glimmer like a Topaz, but under the moon, they twinkle like a black Garnet.
His eyes were deep brown pools that I found myself mezemrised by, falling into them as fast as I found myself falling for him
His deep alluring eyes captivated me as flecks of gold danced within the deep swirls of cocoa making them appear to have a mystery hidden inside waiting to be discovered.
Her eyes, the colour of a bear and just as fierce.
There was nothing extraordinary about her looks, she was a plain woman with a pear-shaped body and a small round face and light hair. But her eyes captured my attention, they were small but had the most beautiful colour i ever saw in my life. Darker and more intense then the bottom of the sea, a fierce dusky brown with subtle golden flecks towards the center. They pulled me in, capturing my attention, drowning with it's sheer force. The woman smiled, and blinked. "Excuse me? Can I help you?"
They are the silent horizon, when the sun has finally had enough, burnt out, leaving tiny specks of dulled light against the calming darkened sky.
Yeah, her eyes were brown. And I could be super boring and say that they were like chocolate, or honey, or chestnuts. But why would I do that, when they were more than chocolate, honey, and chestnuts. They were the rocks against the shore that destroyed ships. They were the trees bark that has protected it for hundreds of years. They were the ancient dirt beneath my feet and the strong whiskey in my hand. They could melt you with their facade of chocolate, but then they would crush you with their under-layer of earth and soil. Yeah, her eyes were brown. And they were torture.
Brown eyes were common, but not hers. Even if for five seconds, the intensity in her eyes made me intrigued. Her eyes, like leather, which may have matched her tough attitude. Yet, they had me hypnotized. As if she became soft and smooth, hypnotizing me with those swirling chocolate eyes of hers. I knew I would stare into her striking crisp eyes. Whether she wanted to take a look at me or not.
His eyes were like a piping hot mug of hot chocolate after a day playing in the snow. They were warm and comforting, deep rich shade of liquid brown.
For lack of better adjectives, her eyes were the exact shade and dimension as a handful of freshly turned soil. An almost powdery shade of medium brown.
Their eyes reminded me of the first drink we shared, huddled near the warmth of the fire, talking about nothing and everything. They sparkled, reminiscent of the crystal shard we bought, zircon in the natural sunlight, reflecting all your emotions of love onto me. They sang, a sweet melody that wraps around me and embraces me with familiar touch and remembrance. They gazed in wonder and curiosity, fresh soil sprouting newly under spring rain. Danced under the shadows on mahogany walls, relaxed and carefree, beautiful. Those eyes are where I start and end, my journey over the ever changing earth, the ground in which keeps me stable. They are where I will take my last embrace and hope to be returned to. Those earthen depths which I have yet to fully explore, will remain a mystery.
So dark were his eyes that she felt herself falling into them, wrapped in a warm brown blanket.
His eyes....they are most unforgettable as I have never looked upon another human being who possessed eyes of his color. To say they are brown is to say the sky is simply colorful at sunset, accurate by not giving true description to their uniqueness. At first glance you certainly see the beauty they behold, but once you gaze into them...you see everything differently..the coffee color is just the beginning as the etching of black and gold seem to intertwine around the edge of his iris. The colors mingle together cascading an array of different shades throughout his gaze. One look into them and you're lost- doomed for all eternity because no other eyes will ever compare.
His eyes were as dark as the night sky and, when he smiled, the stars shined.
His cinnamon eyes were wise and comforting.
They were like the earth on the ground yet with the sweetness of chocolate. They soothed you like coffee. They were soft like a brown bear, but hard like wood. If looks could kill... no... looks can kill.
Despite this, it's interesting how they stay. I could tell exactly what he's feeling. His eyes were two swirls of thoughts, revealing a soul so naive and at the same time so sagacious. They're shiny rust in the twilight, nutmeg sprinkled on top of everything. The edges skirted in infinite darkness like the thoughts of his pupil, which was radiated with gold around it. As deep as his soul, as luminous as amber, they're captivating and inviting coffee for a winter Sunday wrapped in the embrace of a blanket. As deep as a turbid lake where I was drowning.
"It's all my fault." She sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Jonathan," she held his hand and kissed it. He looked at her eyes. Those big brown eyes, the ones he fell in love with. Every feature was perfect, the brown darkened as it neared her pupils, creating the most stunning ombre. Then there were those flecks of gold reminded him of the stars at night. Now her tears hung onto her eyelashes. "I love you," he said.