Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Irises. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Irises Quotes And Sayings by 95 Authors including Arthur Golden,Leandra J. Kalsy,J.g. Ballard,Sir John Davies,Mia Evans for you to enjoy and share.
[The eyes] are the most expressive part of a woman's body.
It's the soul's eye which stares at your beauty and knows you well. And from it's vantage point you're as visible as a sunny day
Paranoid eyes with the fusion of passion and duplicity.
Wit,
the pupil of the soul's clear eye.
change in his iris but she never really
People say that eyes are windows to the soul.
The Eyes are the window to your soul
The eyes were large and gray and in a certain light looked soft, gentle, and even innocent. Then the light would change, the innocence would vanish, and the eyes looked like year-old ice.
The eye the point where a person's identity is concentrated.
Are your eyelashes like your hair?" "Yes. They're very beautiful - want to see?" Her lips twitched. "Vanity is a sin,Bluebell." "When you have it, flaunt it, I say." -Elena and Illium
Those blue, blue eyes, icy
blue, looking back at me as if I could
warm them up. They're
pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful, too.
The eye is the jewel of the body.
The eyes she remembered: dark and serious, ringed by the kind of lashes boys didn't care about and girls would kill for.
Eyes. Those damn eyes fucked me forever.
The eyes are the nipples of the face
Eyes are windows to the soul.
Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.
Not the eyes, but the heart sees the beauty.
The eyes have a property in things and territories not named in any title-deeds, and are the owners of our choicest possessions.
How somebody can't recognize their own eyes, I'll never know.
I ne'er could any luster seeIn eyes that would not look on me.
The eyes are the window to where the soul is supposed to be.
My mother had me sort the eyes
The eye is a menace to clear sight.
Your eyes. It's a day's worth of work to look into them.
I dislike an eye that twinkles like a star. Those only are beautiful which, like the planets, have a steady lambent light, are luminous, but not sparkling.
Your Eyes, they talk to the Soul!
They say the eyes are the window to the soul.
Blue eyes so light that it looked like she sent them out to be bleached
Tears. They're like seeds in a watermelon. Good for spitting out.
People's eyes are blobs of jelly. That's what the medic told me one I'd lost my right eye. But her eyes? Her eyes were limitless, like the night sky. Her gaze dissolved into space, as though all human experience could be found in her glassy eyes. I
My eye sees sacred things.
The eyes are the windows of the soul.
The eyes are the landing strip to the heart.
There was something strange about her eyes. They were mysteriously lacking in depth. They were lovely eyes, but they did not seem to be looking at anything. They were all surface, like glass eyes. But of course they were not glass eyes. They moved, and their lids blinked.
Her eyes were those of someone who's just fallen in love, someone who sees nothing but her lover, someone who has no fear of anything. The eyes of someone who believes that every dream will come true, that reality will move if you just give it a push.
And you have eyes the colour of beech leaves in October. Yet no one is ever allowed to look into them.
I was always drawing eyes, even as a child. Eyes fascinated me.
Those sweetly smiling angels with pensive looks, innocent faces, and cash-boxes for hearts.
Kind eyes under all the mascara.
- to wit, 'the sweat of the brow.
She had eyes like strange sins.
The twinkle at the back of his eyes.
Everyone's got beautiful eyes.
Those eyes. So dark, a brown that held mysteries and promises I knew better than to think were for me. Yet when they were trained on me like they were now, my insides melted like gooey Nutella.
The one pair of eyes into which you can never gaze is your own.
They were the eyes of a happy woman, a woman around whom storms might blow without ever ruffling the serene core of her being.
White crescents beneath the pupils made his pale blue eyes seem to protrude, though they did not: lacking depth, they appeared to be inset into the skin like stones in hide.
We ordinary people can see neither our own eyelashes, which are so close, nor the heavens in the distance ...
The eye is the casement at which the heart generally looks out. Many a woman who will not show herself at the door, has tipt the sly, the intelligible wink from the window.
I was born with eyes that can never close...
The eyes like sentinel occupy the highest place in the body.
Are tears the dewdrops of the heart?
your eyes are like a star diamond,
and shine and shine and shine
wave a magic wand,
and disappear
His honest eyes that had always been so bad at lying.
clarity of vision - especially
Eyes - the head's chief of police. They watch and make mental notes.
Eyes, black and glistening like deep wells, narrow to two happy crescents
The light that lies In woman's eyes.
Lips, like roses dropping myrrh.
His eyes. Unclouded by cynicism, questioning but with a certainty that there were answers, warmly innocent in some strange way. A child's eyes, she thought. Even more irresistible when set in a man's face.
Those innocent eyes slit my soul up like a razor
My eyes are my greatest sin.
Oh, the spectacles - I have to wear them when I go abroad, I have such kind eyes you see, beggars and things cluster round and annoy me.
The eyes showed the soul and they were always hardest to mask.
... those eyes. they were like the bottom of the sea, like my worst nightmares and darkest dreams.
They [stag's eyes] were moist and pink, which gave then a strangely intelligent mien--kind, sad eyes that seemed to carry with them the secret wisdom of the earth.
An unforgiving eye, and a damned disinheriting countenance!
Eyes so black they seem all pupils.
Why would an eye want to form?
Where are the eyes of my childhood, those fearful eyes she had thirty years ago, the eyes that made me?
I don't like your eyes. They belong on a dead fish.
Cold eyelids that hide like a jewel
Hard eyes that grow soft for an hour;
The heavy white limbs, and the cruel
Red mouth like a venomous flower;
When these have gone by with their glories,
What shall rest of thee then, what remain,
O mystic and somber Delores,
Our Lady of Pain?
Your eyes hide a tenderness that is more sensitive than all the red roses of the world.
Your eyes, brilliant as shop windows Or as blazing lamp-stands at public festivals, Insolently use a borrowed power Without ever knowing the law of their beauty. Blind,
O lovely eyes of azure, Clear as the waters of a brook that run Limpid and laughing in the summer sun!
If you look deeply into my eyes, you will see my eyeballs.
The eyes are the pioneers that first announce the soft tale of love.
Some eyes threaten like a loaded and levelled pistol, and others are as insulting as hissing or kicking; some have no more expression than blueberries, while others are as deep as a well which you can fall into.
The eyes are not the windows but the doors of the soul. Beware what may enter them.
How can you eat anything with eyes?
I have eyes like those of a dead pig.
The eyes indicate the antiquity of the soul.
They were eyes made for laughter, but not raucous yuks; rather, for the laughter of wit, of erudition, of the bon mot.
The eyes get in the way of the mind.
The corners of her mouth
my blue eyes peering into their brown eyes and seeing there some essential part of myself, some irreducible aspect of my being, which in turn gave them back the same reflected version of themselves
Blue eyes as level as a foot rule, with wrinkles at the corners - the product of humour and of twenty years' staring at a thousand horizons.
My eyes! I'm blind!
I walked up to the stairs and with my first step my eyes caught a pair of green emerald eyes, the face darkened by the corner it was hiding in. But the green eyes were clear, standing out like a beacon. Stopping dead, my heart skipped a few beats. I know those eyes, how can I forget them? Chax.
Slicing off your retinas and sticking them into
if your eyes are marred
with petty visions
wash them with tears
your teardrops are healers
as they begin to arrive
Oculus Dei, the eyes of God.
And her eyes. I cannot say what color Lenore Beadsman's eyes are; I cannot look at them; they are the sun to me.
Jesus's bloody tears.
This tragic brow, these closed eyes, eyebrows raised and knotted.
The eye is the best of artists.
Gall 3rst had this idea as a young boy when he
noticed that those of his classmates who excelled at
memorizing school assignments had prominent eyes.
Your eyes are the shade of intelligence, able to pierce a man's heart with merely a glance. As they have done so to mine.
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky.