Eye Quotes - Page 83

First move me, astonish me, break my heart, let me tremble, weep, stare, be enraged-only then regale my eyes.

Relationships, like eyebrows, are better when there is space between them.

I strode toward Mr. Coffee with lust in my eyes. We'd had a thing for quite some time now Mr. Coffee and I.

When we turn away from the reality of what we do to animals for our gustatory pleasure, we play a game of pretend, like the child who covers her eyes and thinks you can't see her. And yet, there she remains. Closing our eyes doesn't make violence disappear; it only closes our minds and hearts and enables the violence to continue.

Imagination is the wide-open eye which leads us always to see truth more vividly.

I'm no stranger to criticism. You're never going to be good enough, or just the right thing in everybody's eyes.

As social beings we live with our eyes upon our reflection, but have no assurance of the tranquillity of the waters in which we see it.

There are times when those eyes inside your brain stare back at you.

Never take your eyes off your opponent, even when you bow.

Faeries are seen through the heart, not through the eyes. Remember that faeries inhabit the interior of the earth and the interior of all things, so look, in the first place, in the interior of yourself.

What the human eye observes casually and incuriously, the eye of the camera (the lens) notes with relentless fidelity.

Perception starts with the eye.

These golden matters Of Gyges and his treasuries Are no concern of mine. Jealousy has no power over me, Nor do I envy a god his work, And I do not burn to rule. Such things have no Fascination for my eyes.

I am going to try to pay attention to the spring. I am going to look around at all the flowers, and look up at the hectic trees. I am going to close my eyes and listen.

Hours and hours passed, with nothing to do but keep the compass on its course and the plane on a level keel. This sounds easy enough, but its very simplicity becomes a danger when your head keeps nodding with weariness and utter boredom and your eyes everlastingly try to shut out the confusing rows of figures in front of you, which will insist on getting jumbled together.

I single handedly revolutionised women's roles in the WWE, before me all women were eye candy.

Dialogue should simply be a sound among other sounds, just something that comes out of the mouths of people whose eyes tell the story in visual terms.

Do you not see with your own eyes the chrysalis fact assume by degrees the wings of fiction?

The viewer is yet another eye that is part of the compact that makes a photograph what it is.

Nothing comes cheap, though the educated eye will always spot very nice things for the least money.

It's funny how insomnia has a way of hauling faded memories up from the cellar of the mind, unearthing buried bits of nostalgia from deep within and spreading the broken, jagged pieces out in front of you like a display of junk at a garage sale. It makes you feel cheap and guilty when you didn't do a thing in the world to kindle the dull burn in your veins or the sting in your eyes. Some nights the painful past unexpectedly pushes up through the floorboards like an ugly nightmarish weed, and by doing so, cultivates and nurtures an entirely new species of headache.

Images are no longer what they used to be. They can't be trusted any more. We all know that. You know that. When we grew up, images were telling stories and showing them. Now they're all into selling. They've changed under our very eyes. They don't even know how to do it anymore. They've plain forgotten. Images are selling out the world. And at a big discount.

I think seeing happens partly through the eyes, but not entirely.

One has to seek Beauty and Truth, Sir! As I always say to my pupils, you have to work to the finish. There's only one kind of painting. It is the painting that presents the eye with perfection, the kind of beautiful and impeccable enamel you find in Veronese and Titian.

Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. Poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.