Dark Eyes Quotes

I have... a dark look in my eyes, I guess.

I looked on my stomach and saw Frieda Rebecca, white as flour with the cream that covers new babies, funny little dark squiggles of hair plastered over her head, with big, dark-blue eyes.

I’d noticed that his eyes were black – coal black.

Their eyes were dark and hard and glowing, with no fear in them, no kindness and no guilt.

I have always liked the contrast between being blonde and having dark features.

He took his mouth from hers and stared down at her with eyes so dark they no longer looked blue. “Amanda, do you trust me?” “Of course not,” she said. “I don’t know the first thing about you.” Laughter rustled from his chest. “Sensible woman.

Hey Sydney," she said, giving me a small, crooked smile as she entered the room. Her flashing, dark eyes were friendly, but they were also assessing everything in the room, much as Eddie's gaze was. It was a guardian thing. Rose was about my height and dressed very casually in jeans and a red tank top. But, as always, there was something as exotic and dangerous about her beauty that made her stand out from everyone else. She was like a tropical flower in this dark, stuffy room. One that could kill you.

A million faces at my feet but all I see are dark eyes.

Eyes as black and as shiny as chips of obsidian stared back into his. They were eyes like black holes, letting nothing out, not even information.

I was lucky enough to be a "type." Sort of a bad-guy type at the time, because I was tall and I had dark eyes. A lot of times, you don't have to be good; you just have to be the right type.

Patch’s eyes were black orbs. Taking in everything and giving away nothing.

At that moment, it seemed to him that time stood still, and the Soul of the World surged within him. When he looked into her dark eyes, and saw that her lips were poised between a laugh and silence, he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke — the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. It was love. Something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. Something that exerted the same force whenever two pairs of eyes met, as had theirs here at the well.

His eyes were jet-colored circles of perpetual disapproval.

His eyes were open wounds beneath his heavy brows, a blue as dark as the sea by night.

A blue eye is a true eye; Mysterious is a dark one, Which flashes like a spark sun! A black eye is the best one.

He looked at her an instant, for the effect of the graceful girlish figure with pale, passionate face and dark eyes full of sorrow, pride and resolution was wonderfully enhanced by the gloom of the great room, and glimpses of a gathering storm in the red autumn sky.

And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams Are where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams-- In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams!