eyes - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
When the bond of love is made, my eyes give free passage to my soul.
Eyes that love you will catch your soul, even if you weren't aware of its falling.
Eyes will tell the truth whatever society permits.
I listen to eyes because they speak so much truth.
Eyes speak in emotion, the language of the soul.
From those eyes came a sense of home.
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.
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.
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.
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...
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.