Eyes Quotes (page 27)
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At the round earth's imagined corners blow. Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise. From death, you numberless infinities. Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go ; All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow, All whom war, dea[r]th, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you, whose eyes. Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe. But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space ; For, if above all these my sins abound,'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace,...
John Donne
Do you wake up as I do, having forgotten what it is that hurts or where, until you move? There is a second of consciousness that is clean again. A second that is you, without memory or experience, the animal warm and waking into a brand new world. There is the sun dissolving the dark, and light as clear as music, filling the room where you sleep and the other rooms behind your eyes.
Jeanette Winterson
Up then, fair phoenix bride, frustrate the sun; Thyself from thine affection. Takest warmth enough, and from thine eye. All lesser birds will take their jollity. Up, up, fair bride, and call. Thy stars from out their several boxes, take. Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and make. Thyself a constellation of them all; And by their blazing signify. That a great princess falls, but doth not die. Be thou a new star, that to us portends. Ends of much wonder; and be thou those ends.
John Donne
If I may ride with you, Citizen Evremonde, will you let me hold your hand? I am not afraid, but I am little and weak, and it will give me more courage." As the patient eyes were lifted to his face, he saw a sudden doubt in them, and then astonishment. He pressed the work-worn, hunger-worn young fingers, and touched his lips."Are you dying for him?" she whispered."And his wife and child. Hush! Yes."Oh, you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?"Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last.
Charles Dickens
The silver Swan, who living had no Note, when Death approached, unlocked her silent throat. Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, thus sang her first and last, and sang no more: Farewell, all joys! O Death, come close mine eyes! More Geese than Swans now live, more Fools than Wise.
Orlando Gibbons
He looks at Mama out of the corner of his eye, again surprised by how little she is. As if all of her life has been a slow process of shrinkage.
But just what is that shrinkage?
Is it the real shrinkage of a person abandoning his adult dimensions and starting on the long journey through old age and death toward distances where there is only a nothingness without dimension?
Milan Kundera
Your favorite colour . . . it's green?"That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange."Orange?" He seems unconvinced."Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once."Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you."But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always...
Suzanne Collins
In general, one's memories of any period must necessarily weaken as one moves away from it. One is constantly learning new facts, and old ones have to drop out to make way for them. At twenty I could have written the history of my schooldays with an accuracy which would be quite impossible now. But it can also happen that one's memories grow sharper after a long lapse of time, because one is looking at the past with fresh eyes and can isolate and, as it were, notice facts which previously...
George Orwell
