eyes - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
In the eyes is the "I' - the inborn soul of the baby heaven-given.
She reached out with her eyes has honestly as a babe reaches with open arms.
From those eyes came a sense of home.
Even in the night his eyes lit the way, he was a seer, of that we were sure.
The eyes come as perfect flower buds freshly opened in the dawn.
Eyes that see are the greatest blessing, for they are as orbs that shine lights and make even the realisation of what healing must happen... possible.
I could see wind-stirred waves in her eyes. If one were brave enough to enter their depths, all else would blur and you'd fall so deep in love that you'd choose to stay there, no matter what. Of that, I'm completely sure.
In this early dawn your eyes are the dew, scattering the nascent rays, ever illuminating my soul.
They say the eyes are windows, the thing is, my love, I can see through them. I can see your pain and your gentleness just the same. I see how every emotion comes together to form the art of your soul. It forms a picture I see in an instant and comprehend with full depth. So, I see you, I do. When I say that your eyes are beautiful, its the truth, for it's not about colours or shape, it's about the loving sweet essence that is so clearly there.
He had eyes as open and honest as any child, a warmth and safety. In that moment I found my home, my place to find company when the cold winds blew.
The boy's eyes were green but not the kind of shade that's easy to describe. It was almost like they were both green and yellow at the same time, with blue creeping in around the edges as if it were trying to take over. He blinked and the beauty was momentarily covered by the shield of his eyelashes; naturally long and soft looking - feminine compared to the rest of his well structured features. By the time the boy's eyes opened again, I had still not recovered from his intense stare. It was a stare that communicated the boy's former pain, and his wish for me to let go and to move on. But I could not move on, just as I could not forget those glaring eyes whose light never faded even in death.
The fresh grassy green color swirled into an Atlantic blue as he gazed at her. As she stared she could feel herself become hypnotized by the changing colors. He smiled and spots of gold danced in his irises and grew to swallow the blue...
He squinted at me through hardened eyes that once had been my salvation, but now they brought only the unfounded accusations of a jealous lover. Their color had only yesterday reminded me of my sea-port home, gazing out to where the blue of the ocean blended into the blue of the sky, now they were simply chilling. Every muscle in his face was tense and without a word he communicated intense mistrust, anger, despising. Now he stood between me and the only exit, glaring, seething, clenching his fists rhythmically...
There was something solemn swimming in his eyes. Their stunning, deep blue held a truth that his face could not hide. The despairing chill that they conveyed made me feel heartbroken. I looked away; I couldn't bear it. What was usually strength, now showed weakness. What used to be joy now showed grief. Then a tear rolled down his cheek. I didn't see it, but could feel him crying beside me. I thought of what had happened. Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while so that we can see with a clearer view again, so putting my hand on his arm, I gave a small, hopefully encouraging smile. He smiled back, and in that moment, I knew everything was going to be alright.
She looked up at Adam. Really looked up at him as if just noticing him for the first time. She noticed the way his eyebrows raised a centimetre or two, lined with something between worry and concern and his eyes, his eyes twinkled in amusement as if he knew something she didn’t. They glazed like honey and turned into million shades of gold as sunlight from the open windows reflected off them. His eyes were like melted chocolate. Warm and oh so addictive.
Her eyes have frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. She's in there, I know it, but it's like she just took a huge step back from life. I want to reach in and tell her it isn't hopeless, but she won't believe me. I want to rekindle her heat but her insides are too damp with uncried tears. I always knew she had pain inside, but now its visible on her face and I wish it would go away. I know that's a selfish want, people have a right to their pain, they don't ask for it - it just arrives like the gift you never wanted.
She looks at me like the fire in her eyes has been dowsed with ice water, if anything it makes the blue more pale. I'm not used to it, it unnerves me. I want her to give freely like she always does but she won't. It's like she just crawled right back inside some invisible shell and no matter how hard I try she's unreachable. She moves her eyes more slowly, like they're heavy, an effort to move. I want to crack my usual jokes but I know she won't laugh. I'm standing right next to her but she might as well be on the moon.
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.