eyes - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
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.
Her eyes were giving a glare that was freezing Sonia’s bones, like being nude in the middle of a hailstorm, where every chunk of ice was a frosted dagger cutting into her skin.
My parents warned me about the drugs and the freaks in the streets, but never the ones with the hazel eyes and the heart beats. As I looked into his eyes I could feel him searching deep into my soul.
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...
The boy's expression was pleasant, with an inkling of wistfulness, while the soft glimmer of his lucid eyes betrayed the poet and the dreamer.
Soft wisps of that pale honey hair swept past an ear and caressed the skin of her neck, jaw, cheeks and around her rather beautiful, deep eyes. Those cerulean-glass eyes rimmed with thick, long, dark lashes that brushed her cheeks every time she closed her eyes, seemed to bore into him every time he looked into them and nearly lost himself. Suffering, loneliness, longing, desire; her eyes held all those deep seated emotions and many more. Over the years, he had learned to read her through the emotions that danced like fire, licking at the walls of cerulean-glass. However, sometimes, like today, the fire dwindled down to smoldering ember and even he, who had gotten to know the young woman living with him, could not tell what emotions were soaring just beyond those walls.
The Commander's eyes were mossy green orbs with a rings of silver - they twinkled with a sharp gleam like that of a tiger staking her prey. His gaze was both of a wise professor and a bloodthirsty murderer: it called for respect and promised severe consequences for denying him. His gaze had the power to dissect one bit by bit with the least bit of care – there wasn't thing one could hide from his eyes. But they held no warmth but cold calculating calm like that of a high functioning computer – he wasn't a human but a machine and his eyes sold him out every time he tried to appear amiable and warm. Yet they were beautiful like old decayed buildings with ivy gripping the peeling walls in a timeless hug.
His eyes look brown from afar, but as he nears I notice the color of honey. They're bright and liquid warm, sprinkled with light brown specks, framed by beautiful thick lashes. They remind me of Sbiten, mom and I's favorite Russian drink. I watch him near, hiding behind my curtain of blonde hair. When he slides into the seat behind me I sneak a glance at him. I pause, noticing the power behind those breathtaking eyes. The power that's as reckless as a tornado. His eyes flash. For a moment they look golden with warmth... and as careless as hell.
Blunt's eyes, magnified by the thick lenses of his spectacles, lasered into his own, and for a moment, Alex felt himself pinned down, like an insect under a microscope.
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.
... with close-set, shifty eyes...
He had the perfect eyes for a salesman. They were oversized like a baby with lashes so thick you almost thought he might be wearing eye make-up. You felt bad for mis-trusting him and then you wanted to make him happy. Clients were disarmed, helpless, laughing at his jokes and taken in by his careful flattery. He guided them to the deal he wanted while appearing to give them everything they wanted more efficiently than his normal-eyed colleagues. Before they had even reached the door he had forgotten their names and was ready to flash those baby-browns at the next customer.
He has the most wonderful eyes – they are blue, mostly, but darken to grey in correspondence to his mood. He seldom smiles with his lips, but it is his eyes that shine instead, and it is this radiance that makes every man and woman who sees it feel the irresistible impulse to smile, too, for this smiling of the eyes is the most sincere and pure emotion that my husband would show, even if he didn’t want to show it. The eyes never lie – if I could say but four words to advise one on how to understand my husband’s thoughts, those would be the four I’d choose.
“Her eyes are like limpid lakes,” continued Zenas.
He turned his head and showed a ghastly face, bloodshot pallid eyes and bloodless lips.
"Let us, by all means, be lucid," said Gorgono to Slith. Slith fluttered his reptile tongue and turned his morbid eyes to me.
Behind all these there came a man of thirty, a very personable fellow, except that when he looked, his eyes turned in a little one towards the other.
For a half second, the both stood there, staring at eachother. She was assessing him as though he was competion, or prey, and he simply watched her because he found her the most beautiful girl in the world. It was her eyes that captivated him most of all though. Her eyes were round and framed by thick long lashes. They were amber colored, like liquid gold. The eyes of a wolf.
The eyes of the tattooed black man seemed to gleam with a baleful fire, but his dark face remained as unchangeable as marble.
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.
I sat there trying to listen to the sermon as if it were the one sermon to cure me of all form of sin, but I could not focus, I simply dare not raise my eyes, they had to remain downcast in my bible even though I was not reading it.
If I were to look up my eyes will lock in sinful magnetism with his.....those eyes! Speaking to me, telling me things, suggesting things....he had simple eyes, nothing extraordinary, just the fact that they were so expressive...so honest...wrongly speaking out what his heart was trying to hide...love.
Not a shade was there of anything save geniality and kindness.
Her eyes were crystal clear like the water
Her eyes were heavy with unshed tears.
All they could see were her eyes. They were filled with suspicion and a little more than wild.
Where her eyes are meant to be white, they are an inky-pool of black, her irises are a deep blood-red, a spiky black ring close to her pupils, pupils, shaped like that of a cat's.
In the midst of her meal the girl raised her head and looked at Tommy. He saw that her eyes were filmed, vacant, dead. Then of a sudden a third membrane was drawn back across the pupils, and she saw him.
His lips were twitching, but his eyes looked blurred as if with tears.
his eyes were a maze you couldn't help but get lost in
“Now stop it, boys! Did you see her glare at me with those fishy eyes?”
When his eyes fell on Dick Merriwell they shone like the eyes of a venomous serpent.
“I didn’t have to break in,” said Dick, with a twinkle in his dark eyes.
deep set eyes, heavy lidded, well set apart, striking, sharp little eyes, beady eyes, black as currants, small eyes, melancholy eyes, tired eyes, intelligent, weary, tired, resentful, dark, bright, full of life, heavy with makeup, judicial eye, expressionless stare
Eyes dark as caves, black and expressionless, stony stare, eyes black as deep wells, black as inky pools, black as a starless night, black as coal,
Depth, clarity, almost inhuman blueness, concentrated gaze unnerving. Remarkable eyes, irises with bright greenish-yellow centres, ringed darkly with green, hooded, deep set and downward sloping. Lashes weighted with mascara. Eyes as dull as stones. Luminous grey eyes.
widely spaced eyes, cavernous eyes, gummy with sleep, threads of scarlet around the iris, pink with tiredness
I saw eyes everywhere of all shapes and sizes. From the darkest brown to the lightest silver, they were everywhere. I couldn't breath, I couldn't think, all I could see was the eyes. Glaring angry eyes attached to glaring angry people, accusing me of my wrongdoings. They were diverse, but they were all the same.
To caress the tips of your eyelashes and immerse in the ocean of your eyes...
To leap off and splash headfirst into the swirls of its waves..
To lie on the darkest sands of your pupils surrounded by the mysteries of the deep
To soar across those undiscoverable skies and to sail to every corner of those seas..
To bask in the warmth of the imminent glow..
To catch every breath as it escapes..
To spend rest of my days giving name to every shades of its hue..
And to willingly die..drowned in your gaze..
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.
Her eyes shined, the hue of summer envy. She stood staring as though she was assessing him. He simply stood there watching her till the eternity. It was her eyes, crystal hazel, framed in thick lashes - as of Wolf eyes, liquid gold amber.
Hooded eyes framed by long dark lashes, an unidentifiable color, somewhere in between silver and blue and green. In her right eye, there was a red mark. Possibly from her cat scratching her right in the eye a few weeks ago.
They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, but when I look into my reflection, I don't see a soul. I see dilated pupils from the bright bathroom lights. I see long lashes that curl up so they almost touch the skin beneath my eyebrows. I see irises that have no real color - amber near the pupil, silvery green in the center and a navy ring surrounding the iris. What does this mean? Am I cursed? Am I caught somewhere between good and bad? Or am I just a completely unimaginative and boring person?
Eyes like they were made of stardust and then cut out of the sky.
Like an extinguished candle her eyes melted into an ever growing darkness of misery and despair, no longer flickering with the fire of spirit.
I sat there, studying the way her eyelashes, thick and dark, swept over her eyelid. I noticed the way they were not unnaturally clumped, free from mascara; the way they cast shadows, like threads of silk, across her cheeks. Her eyes were pale, like moonlight, filled with hidden depth and unperceived beauty, captivating me with every turn of her head, every breath. Chalky pink lips twitched into a smile as she noticed me staring. I tried to smile back, but I was already too lost in her sight.
As if she could sense my probing stare, she whipped her face to me.
My breath was ripped from my lungs. I couldn't breathe as I took in her delicate, pert nose and that rich ruby mouth. But it was her eyes that winded me like a punch to the stomach.
They were the striking chestnut of a fawn's dappled coat, the bright beams of sunlight accentuating the tiny golden flecks in her fleeting gaze. Something like bitterness flickered in those remarkable eyes and instantly flashed away, buried deep in that icy mask that overtook the rest of her lovely features. Her long, dark eyelashes fluttered as she lowered her gaze, turning away from me.