Quotes & Sayings About Eyes Tell

You may have noticed that people in bus stations, if they know you also are alone, will glance at you sidelong, with a look that is both piercing and intimate, and if you let them sit beside you, they will tell you long lies about numerous children who are all gone now, and mothers who were beautiful and cruel, and in every case they will tell you that they were abandoned, disappointed, or betrayed--that they should not be alone, that only remarkable events, of the kind one reads in a book, could have made their condition so extreme. And that is why, even if the things they say are true, they have the quick eyes and active hands and the passion for meticulous elaboration of people who know they are lying. Because, once alone, it is impossible to believe that one could ever been otherwise. Loneliness is absolute discovery. — Marilynne Robinson

You'll be sorry some day. Why don't you ever understand what I'm trying to tell you: it's with your six sense that you're fooled into believing not only that you have six senses, but that you contact an actual outside world with them. If it wasn't for your eyes, you wouldn't see me. If it wasn't for your ears, you wouldn't hear that airplane. If it wasn't for your nose, you wouldn't smell that midnight mint. If it wasn't for your tongue taster, you wouldn't taste the difference between A and B. If it wasn't for your body, you wouldn't feel Princess. There is no me, no airplane, no mind, no Princess, no nothing, you for krissakes do you want to go on being fooled every damn minute of your life? — Jack Kerouac

Foreshadow, plot buster or red herring ... only time will tell: P69
Cassie waited; in the evening light through the window her eyes looked huge, opaque and watchful. I knew she was giving me a chance to say, Fuck the hair clip, let's forget we ever found it. Even now the temptation, tired and profitless though it may be, is to wonder what would have happened if I had. — Tana French

Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it, he whispered again. I'll do anything for you.
I closed my eyes at the comfort huh that came from his words. I'd had to be strong for so long. I'd had to fight and scrap and struggle to stay alive. Everyone else depended upon me. And it felt so good to lean on someone else for a change and to know I wasn't alone. — Jody Hedlund

When the sky is as grey as this - impeccably grey, a denial, really of the very concept of colour - and the stooped millions lift their heads, it's hard to tell the air from the impurities in our human eyes, as if the sinking climbing paisley curlicues of grit were part of the element itself, rain, spores, tears, film, dirt. Perhaps, at such moments, the sky is no more then the sum of the dirt that lives in our human eyes. — Martin Amis

Finally, spurred by the appetite to which he was indifferent, he took any one, read the printing on the parti-colored label of paper. He held the soup can like a skull; and at once he did not want it. The soup was made from celery. Mr. Lecky put it back. He stood in mild misery, harassed again by the plague of a will impotent in its restored freedom.
If the mind cannot direct, it can be cunning to protect its ease. Mr. Lecky now proposed a fantastic pact to himself. He shut his eyes. He reached again and took a can. Eyes still shut, he ripped the label from it, crumpled and threw away the paper. Now he could not tell what he had until he opened it. — James Gould Cozzens

An hour would be enough. An hour with my head on the pillow beside yours, foreheads touching, eyes locked with eyes (just the two of us, mind you, minus that sodding cat); an hour to smell the smell of you - garlic and all, I wouldn't mind, no, I wouldn't mind. An hour to press you close the whole length of our bodies and feel the shudder of your laugh. An hour to tell you I'm so glad I knew you. An hour, just an hour. I have time now like hedgehogs have fleas: I an lose it, waste it, squander it, kill it, and there will still be more to follow, but that hour I'll never have. Never. — A.P.

I'll tell you what I really think about politicians. The other night I watched some politicians on television talking about Vietnam. I wanted very much to burst through the screen with a flame thrower and burn their eyes out and their balls off and then inquire from them how they would assess the action from a political point of view. — Harold Pinter

Right," Chaol said. "So you're just ... memorizing that information now?"
"If you're suggesting that I have no reason to be here and to leave, then tell me to go."
"I'm just trying to figure out what's so boring that you dozed off 10 minutes ago."
She propped herself up onto her elbows. "I did not!"
His eyebrows rose. "I heard you snoring."
"You're a liar, Chaol Westfall." She threw her paper at him at ploppedback on the couch. "I only closed my eyes for a minute."
He shook his head again and went back to work.
Celaena blushed. "I didn't really snore, did I?"
His face was utterly serious as he said, "Like a bear. — Sarah J. Maas

were spilt on his bib, Jane and Michael could tell that the substance in the spoon this time was milk. Then Barbara had her share, and she gurgled and licked the spoon twice. Mary Poppins then poured out another dose and solemnly took it herself. "Rum punch," she said, smacking her lips and corking the bottle. Jane's eyes and Michael's popped with astonishment, but they were not given much time to wonder, for Mary Poppins, having put the miraculous bottle on the mantelpiece, turned to them. "Now," she said, "spit-spot into bed." And she began to undress them. They noticed that whereas buttons and hooks had needed all sorts of coaxing from Katie Nanna, for Mary Poppins they flew apart almost at a look. In less than a minute they found themselves in bed and watching, by the dim light from the night-light, the rest of Mary Poppins's unpacking being performed. From the carpet bag she took out seven flannel nightgowns, four cotton ones, a pair of boots, a — P.L. Travers

And what is it you want?" Her breath caressed his lips. Her eyes were nearly closed, and she leaned her body closer to his. "I want to see you laugh and smile every day. I want to hear you tell me you love me. I want to kiss you . . . every day." He pulled her body against his. "Now tell me you love me." "You are very impertinent," she said, her voice breathless and her cheeks turning pink, — Melanie Dickerson

Only a Mahican would bring a comb to war." Connor rolled his eyes, then leaned in as if about to tell Amalie a great secret, lowering his voice to a whisper. "It helps them keep their feathers pretty."
-Connor about Joesph — Pamela Clare

There are six senses: five are outer; they tell you about the world. I say something about the light; without eyes you will not know light. Ears say something about the sound; without ears you will not know anything about the sound. There is a sixth sense, the inner sense, that shows and tells you something about yourself and the ultimate source of things. That sense has to be discovered. Meditation is nothing but the discovery of the inner sense. — Rajneesh

You'll come to my grave? To tell me your problems?"
My problems?
"Yes.'
And you'll give me answers?
"I'll give you what I can. Don't I always?"
I picture his grave, on the hill, overlooking the pond, some little nine foot piece of earth where they will place him, cover him with dirt, put a stone on top. Maybe in a few weeks? Maybe in a few days? I see myself sitting there alone, arms across my knees, staring into space.
It won't be the same, I say, not being able to hear you talk.
"Ah, talk ... "
He closes his eyes and smiles.
"Tell you what. After I'm dead, you talk. And I'll listen. — Mitch Albom

Life is full of choices, ma'am. Most we live once, then move on and forget. But others" - he narrowed his eyes - "we live a thousand times over and remember for the rest of our days. What's impostant is knowin' how to tell 'em apart. And then decidin' if you's willin' to pay the price. 'Cause choices ... they always come at a price. — Tamera Alexander

She's contemplative; I can feel the air around her thick with her thoughts. "No," she says at last, "I want to believe you're being sincere but I know you're not. So I say no, because even if I allow myself to fantasize a little about our lives in a cabin on the beach, I still find myself being left by you. There's almost no scenario I can think of where we live happily ever after."
"There could be," I tell her and mean it at the moment. Maybe mean it for longer. Her fingers stop moving and she sighs. I open my eyes and she's staring down at me. The lights have come on around the parking lot and one of them shines directly into her face. She angelic, a neon seraphim under the brilliant skies of the spring. I can see us on our boat, eating our hand picked clams on the fire behind our place. I can see it so vividly I'm almost sure it's happened. — Jaden Wilkes

Soon only the street lamps rose clear and shone down on a mass that devoured everything, people and houses, we could not see more than three meters in front of us. The lights around us were hard to make out and Jesper stayed where he was; stretching out his arms like a blind man he said:
'This is what it must have been like when the Man from Danzig was shipwrecked. He must have been frightened. He thought he knew where everything was, and then it was all sheer chaos. Put your hand in front of your eyes, Sistermine, and spin around three times, then tell me which is the way home.'
I did as he said, I spun around so I almost fell down, I opened my eyes and peered in all directions.
'I don't know.'
'Then anything can happen. — Per Petterson

I want a riot laser," Eve snapped at Peabody. "Full body armor." She yanked a six-inch combat knife from its leather sheath and watched with glee, as its wicked serrated edge caught the sunlight through her little window.
Peabody's eyes popped. "Sir?"
"I'm going down to maintenance, and I'm going locked and loaded. I'm taking those piss-brain sons of bitches out, one by one. Then I'm going to haul what's left of the bodies into my vehicle and set it on fire."
"Jesus, Dallas, I thought we had a red flag."
"I've got a red flag. I've got one." Her eyes wheeled to Peabody. "I've got under fifty miles on my ride since those lying, cheating, sniveling shitheads said it was road ready. Road ready? Do you want me to tell you about road ready?"
"I would like that very much, Lieutenant. If you'd sheathe that knife first. — J.D. Robb

But he wouldna do it. John." He looked up then, and gave me a crooked smile. "He loved me, he said. And if I couldna give him that in return - and he kent I couldn't - then he'd not take counterfeit for true coin." He shook himself, hard, like a dog coming out of the water. "No. A man who would say such a thing is not one who'd bugger a child for the sake of his father's bonny blue eyes, I'll tell ye that for certain, Sassenach. — Diana Gabaldon

I've seen most of what
there is to be afraid of in this world, and to tell you the truth,
the worst of them are the ones that make you afraid in the
light. The things that your eyes see plainly and can't forget
are worse than huddled black figures left to the imagination.
Imagination has a poor memory; it slinks away and goes
blurry. Eyes remember for much longer. — Kendare Blake

While I do not squirm under attention as much as I did back then, I'm also very okay with not having all eyes on me. This is something that anyone close to me would tell you: I'm somewhat shy, not a showoff. I'm a flower that doesn't require a lot of sunlight. Make sense? — Connor Franta

We underestimate the power of science, and overestimate the power of personal observation. A peer-reviewed, journal-published, replicated report is worth far more than what you see with your own eyes. Our own eyes can deceive us. People can fool themselves, hallucinate, and even go insane. The controls on publication in major journals are more trustworthy than the very fabric of your brain. If you see with your own eyes that the sky is blue, and Science says it is green, then sir, I advise that you trust in Science.
This is not what most scientists will tell you, of course; but I think it is pragmatically true. Because in real life, what happens is that your eyes have a little malfunction and decide that the sky is green, and science will tell you that the sky is blue. — Eliezer Yudkowsky

Yes, he's my psychiatrist," I say quietly as I stare out at the road. I can't meet his eyes right now. I don't want to see judgment there.
"And why are you seeing a psychiatrist?"
"My unruly sex drive?"
"Irish ... " the way he says my nickname makes me glance in time to catch him lift in his seat and tug at his jeans slightly, as if to make himself more comfortable.
"Tell me. — K.A. Tucker

Ox," he said, a hint of his wolf poking through, eyes flashing. "Anything you'd like to tell me?" "No," I said quickly. "Absolutely not." "You sure about that?" he asked, his grip on my elbow tightening. I just barely managed to pull my arm free. "I'm hungry," I said, voice rough. "We should - " "Sure," he said. "Let's go." I blinked. He smiled at me. My heart stuttered a bit. The smile widened. No — T.J. Klune

It is strange, is it not, how an accident of a millimeter here, a millimeter there, makes one face so important. Think about it Elliot, She has two eyes, a nose, a mouth, just like everyone else. It,s all in tiny degrees of placement, such small area of magic to make such a big difference. For me, Elliot, I must tell you it is a hard thing to understand- why these things, these millimeters, are so crucial to you, you of all men. — Judith Krantz

Tell me about Bryce, Sparrow." Effie bit into a cookie and aimed blue eyes her way.
She shrugged.
"What's to tell? He's the youngest of the Matheson brothers, but then maybe ye ken that since yer granddaughter is married to the eldest."
"No. Tell me about your relationship with him and how you ended up with his muddy hand prints on your boobs. I'm betting that story is a barn burner. — Vonnie Davis

Shame on you. Don't tell me you've been married for an hour and you've already got eyes for another woman. — Mordecai Richler

Yeah. I've met so many people, and they don't really know me. I can't tell them who I am, or what I've lived. Even if I could, I probably wouldn't want to. It's not often I've met a person I really want to know better. But I knew I wanted to know you the moment I set eyes on you. — Allison Van Diepen

Who was your first kiss?" Heat rushed into my face. I flattered myself by thinking maybe he wanted to kiss me. I wished he wanted to kiss me. "I haven't ... " Squeezing my eyes closed, I began again. "I haven't been kissed. Yet." "Why?" I rolled my eyes at his innocence.
"You obviously know I'm not like other girls. I'm shy and I don't spend time with boys. My father is strict and - " "That's not why." He thought he knew me so well.
"Fine. You tell me why I haven't been kissed."
I regretted the words and my tone instantly. What if he told me what I already knew? That I was lacking. Not interesting or pretty enough. "You were waiting. — Gwen Hayes

I took a step forward, rage swirling inside me.
"You broke into Mount Weather?" Hunter choked out a laugh. "Are you insane?"
"Shut up," I said, keeping my eyes on Luc.
Hunter made a deep noise. "Our little mutual white flag of friendship is going to come to a halt if you tell me to shut up again."
I spared him a brief glance. "Shut. Up."
Dark shadows drifted over the Arum's shoulder, and I faced him fully. "What?" I said, throwing my hands up in a universal come get some. "I have a lot of pent-up violence I'd love to take out on someone."
"Guys." Luc sighed, sliding off the bar. "Seriously? Can't you two bro-mance it out? — Jennifer L. Armentrout

You thought about dragging me into your bed this morning."
"I thought about stabbing you and running away screaming. You broke into my house without permission and slobbered all over me. You're a damn lunatic! And don't give me that line about smelling my desire; I know it's bullshit."
"I didn't need to smell you. I could tell by the dreamy look in your eyes and the way your tongue licked the inside of my mouth. — Ilona Andrews

People seldom realize that they tell lies with their lips and truths with their eyes all the time. — Tahereh Mafi

For a while I thought I was the dragon.
I guess I can tell you that now. And, for a while, I thought I was
the princess,
cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle,
young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you with
confidence
but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess,
while I'm out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire,
and getting stabbed to death.
Okay, so I'm the dragon. Big deal.
You still get to be the hero.
You get magic gloves! A fish that talks! You get eyes like flashlights! — Richard Siken

I can tell Tajh Boyd is scared back there. He ain't no sitting duck, but you can see in his eyes that he's scared of our D-linemen. We know that coming into the game that we have him shook already. We get a couple hits on him and it changes the whole game. He's scared every time we play them. I know he's probably listening to this right now, but I'm just telling the truth, man. — Jadeveon Clowney

He gave Sophie the smile which had no doubt charmed the Witch of the Waste and possibly Lettie too, firing it along the fork, across the cream, straight into Sophie's eyes, dazzlingly. "If you can bully Calcifer, the King should give you no trouble at all."
Sophie stared through the dazzle and said nothing. This, she thought, was where she slithered out. She was leaving. It was too bad about Calcifer's contract. She had had enough of Howl. First green slime, then glaring at her for something Calcifer had done quite freely, and now this! Tomorrow she would slip off to Upper Folding and tell Lettie all about it. — Diana Wynne Jones

We need to be far more careful. There was a video of us kissing in the hallway via security camera."
My eyes widened. "Do you not hear yourself, Jake? Is that not the perfect reason to end this?
"No, and I'm still waiting for you to give me an acceptable one. Are you finished?"
I was silent for a few seconds. "I'm not attracted to you anymore."
"A reason that doesn't insult my intelligence." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Tell me the truth."
"I like you."
He blinked. — Whitney G.

In Paris one could have the eyes of a cat (as he did) and tell people it was a trick of fashion. — Cassandra Clare

She stood still a moment, watching him, and he had no idea at all what she was thinking. Finally she laughed quietly, gesturing with her free hand at the marble figure. "It's a minotaur. I suppose that's appropriate." He looked at the figure, all horns and massive shoulders. "The monster in the maze?" "Yes." She turned in the dark to face him, and all he could see was the limned starlight on her cheek, the glimmer of the reflected moon in her eyes. "Indio thought you were a monster at first. Did I ever tell you?" He shook his head slowly. "Am I still a monster to you?" "No." She reached up to trace his eyebrow. "You're not ... that. You never were, really. — Elizabeth Hoyt

How do you know this?
Because I'm always watching people. When I watch people I too look through them. I learned that from my mother. To glance is not enough; eyes and brains together, acting like a flock of ravenous birds, flapping, tearing, poking ... I know everything about people when I look at them for only a moment. I can tell from their clothes, their walks, their hair and hands, I know all the bad things that they've done. I know how they've failed and how they will fail and how miserable they are. — Dave Eggers

It was a dream," he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard. — J.K. Rowling

They turned to look at her and all three pairs of eyes narrowed, as if they could tell instantly that she had not been bred to attend high-society balls.
"Ignore them," Bill said. "There are snobs in every lifetime. In the end, they've got nothing on you."
Luce nodded,falling behind the trio, who passed through a set of mirrored doorways into the ballroom. The ultimate ballroom. The ballroom to end all ballrooms.
Luce couldn't help herself. She stopped in her tracks and whispered, "Wow. — Lauren Kate

Madame, you will have the goodness to tell me where that genius lives." The old lady did not seem surprised at this indiscreet command. She raised her eyes and said: "In Heaven!" Such simplicity baffled him. — Gaston Leroux

Her hair looked like her hair in the dream and her eyes looked like her eyes in the dream, and as for her body, he couldn't tell, she was wearing a mumu. — George Saunders

You know what would help?" I asked, not meeting his eyes.
"Hmm?"
"If you turned off this crap music and put on something that came out after the Berlin Wall went down."
Dimitri laughted. "Your worst class is history, yet somehow, you know everything about Eastern Europe."
"Hey, gotta have material for my jokes, Comrade." Still smiling, he turned the radio dail. To a country station.
"Hey! This isn't what I had in mind," I exclaimed. I could tell he was on the verge of laughing again.
"Pick. It's one or the other."
I sighed. "Go back to the 1980s stuff."
He flipped the dail, and I crossed my arms over my chest as some vaguely European-sounding band sang about how video had killed the radio star. I wished someone would kill this radio. — Richelle Mead

It's too early for there to be any coffee. I stare dully at the empty pot in the common room, while Sam picks up a jar of instant grounds.
"Don't," I warn him.
He scoops up a heaping spoonful and, heedlessly, shovels it into his mouth. It crunches horribly. Then his eyes go wide.
"Dry," he croaks. "Tongue ... shriveling."
I shake my head, picking up the jar. "It's dehydrated. You're supposed to add water. Good thing you're mostly made of water."
He tries to say something. Brown powder dusts his shirt.
"Also," I tell him, "that's decaf. — Holly Black

Go ahead," Apollo said to Luke. "Tell them what it is, since it's obviously hugging material."
Crimson stained Luke's cheeks. "Legend goes that one of the gates to hell is in Stull Cemetery in Kansas."
"Oh, gods," I muttered, remembering where I'd heard this before. "Wasn't that a season finale on Supernatural?" When the boys nodded, my eyes rolled. "Seriously? Are Sam and Dean going to be there? — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Do you mind not intoning the responses, Jeeves?" I said. "This is a most complicated story for a man with a headache to have to tell, and if you interrupt you'll make me lose the thread. As a favour to me, therefore, don't do it. Just nod every now and then to show that you're following me."
I closed my eyes and marshalled the facts.
"To start with then, Jeeves, you may or may not know that Mr Sipperley is practically dependent on his Aunt Vera."
"Would that be Miss Sipperley of the Paddock, Beckley-on-the-Moor, in Yorkshire, sir?"
"Yes. Don't tell me you know her!"
"Not personally, sir. But I have a cousin residing in the village who has some slight acquaintance with Miss Sipperley. He has described her to me as an imperious and quick-tempered old lady ... But I beg your pardon, sir, I should have nodded."
"Quite right, you should have nodded. Yes, Jeeves, you should have nodded. But it's too late now. — P.G. Wodehouse

Ghost?" I asked.
Moon Man pointed to Valek. "Kiki's name for him. It makes sense," he said, seeing the look of confusion on my face. "To magical beings, we see the world through our magic. We see him with our eyes, but cannot see him with our magic. So he is like a ghost to us."
Valek listened to Moon Man. Although expressionless, I could tell by the rigid set to Valek's shoulders that he was prepared to strike.
"Another relative?" Valek asked.
A broad smile stretched Moon Man's lips. "Yes. I am her mother's uncle's wife's third cousin. — Maria V. Snyder

Nobody that has seen a baby born can believe in god for a second. When you see your child born, and the panic, and the amount of technology that is saving the life of the two people you love most in the world, when you see how much stainless steel and money it takes to fight off the fact that god wants both those people dead, no one, no one can look into the eyes of a newborn baby and say there's a god, because I'll tell ya, if we were squatting in the woods, the two people I love most would be dead. There's just no way around that. If I were in charge, no way. We need technology to fight against nature; nature so wants us dead. Nature is trying to kill us. — Penn Jillette

She laughs and looks out the window and I think for a minute that she's going to start to cry. I'm standing by the door and I look over at the Elvis Costello poster, at his eyes, watching her, watching us, and I try to get her away from it, so I tell her to come over here, sit down, and she thinks I want to hug her or something and she comes over to me and puts her arms around my back and says something like 'I think we've all lost some sort of feeling. — Bret Easton Ellis

Do you have any idea how much you mean to me Layla? Any at all? Because I
sometimes think, if you did, you wouldn't keep torturing me like this. I can't keep watching you with him. The way you gaze into his eyes, the way he
kisses you and when you tell him you love him, I hate you. I hate you for loving him. I hate you for choosing him. I hate you for wanting him so badly.
But mostly, I hate myself for not being him! I can't hide it anymore. I've tried so fucking hard that I swear I'm going crazy sometimes. It's eating at me.
I can't sleep, can't think; I can't even function because I'm thinking about you so much. But I get it, I do, it's him you want and from now on I'm hands
off. But I have to let you know how I feel before I go nuts. — Marie Coulson

Tell me about your master."
I nod. "He is eighth in line to the throne, the son of - "
"No, no," Caspida interrupts irritably. "Tell me what he is like."
"He is a gambler," I say. There is no point in lying about these things. "He is bold, but reckless. Brave, but impetuous. A man who . . . holds grudges." Pausing, I finish in a whisper, "He would risk his life to save someone else, without even thinking twice."
Caspida turns her head a bit, interest growing in her eyes. "And he sets out on a mad voyage and sails straight into a nest of jinn."
"My master is noble," I say with a smile, "but I made no suggestions as to his intelligence. — Jessica Khoury

Is she good company, able to laugh at herself, or a witty conversationalist? Has she any intelligence in her pretty head?'
'Yes, definitely. All of the above,' Abigail replied. 'And she has read Pride and Prejudice three times, Sense and Sensibility twice, and Mansfield Park only once.'
The woman's eyes glinted with wry humor. 'That is in her favor, indeed. I can tell you are an excellent judge of character, Miss Foster. — Julie Klassen

Where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? - Love's Labor Lost. The eyes appears to be more immediately connected with the soul than any other organ. A woman reflects every emotion, almost every thought from her two wonderful, priceless eyes, and no feature of her face is more a telltale of her nature. "Show me," says the old Chinese proverb, "a man's eyes, and I will tell you what he might have been. Show me his mouth, and I will tell you what he has been." The same is true of women. Up to thirty or thirty-five a woman may be actress enough to make her eyes tell one tale, while her life would reveal another; but little by little the true state of a woman's soul stands forth in the expression, the frankness, the furtiveness, the candor, or the boldness — Harriet Hubbard Ayer

Wait, so you do love me?" I asked, hope welling in my heart.
She growled and pounded her fist into a locker, leaving a fist-shaped dent. "Stop it, Justin. Stop it!"
I grabbed her shoulders. "Look at me and tell me you don't love me," I said. "Do it and I'll never bother you again."
"I don't love you," she mumbled.
"Look at me when you say it!"
She turned to me, her eyes hard but dull and faded. "I don't love you."
I let her go. My heart turned to lead, the heavy lump sagging in my chest. "Well, if there are agents out there looking to kill me, I guess it would be a mercy."
I turned to leave. Her hand gripped my shoulder.
"Please listen to me, Justin."
I pushed her hand away but didn't turn to face her. I couldn't let her see the tears welling in my eyes. "Why? What does it matter?"
"It just does. I - I don't want to see you hurt."
I took a deep shuddering breath. "You're not doing a very good job of it." I walked away and left her standing there. — John Corwin

They all did. "Then tell him you came to see me and I specifically told you I'm not available." Emma's eyes widened just a little bit more, if that was even possible. Her — J.C. Reed

He walked away from me, and I swallowed, trying to keep the tears at bay. Travis stopped and came back, leaning into my face. "That's why you said I wouldn't miss you after today! You knew I'd find out about you and Parker, and you thought I'd just ... what? Get over you? Do you not trust me, or am I just not good enough? Tell me, damn it! Tell me what the fuck I did to you to make you do this!"
I stood my ground, staring straight into his eyes. "You didn't do anything to me. Since when is sex so life or death to you?"
"Since it was with you! — Jamie McGuire

You're an intensely attractive woman. You do know that, don't you?" To her silence, he replied, "You'd believe me if you could see yourself."
"I have seen myself. That's the snag, you see."
He shook his head. "No, no. Not in a mirror. I know how mirrors work. They're all in league with the cosmetics trade. They tell a woman lies. Drawing her gaze from one imagined flaw to another, until all she sees is a constellation of imperfections. If you could get outside yourself, borrow my eyes for just an instant ... There's only beauty. — Tessa Dare

I leaned forward, but Todd lifted a hand to stop me. "There's one more thing I've been meaning to tell you all day."
"What is it?" I asked impatiently, not able to keep from staring at his mouth.
He took his time, drawing in a slow inhale and then letting it out just as slowly. "You," he finally whispered, running a finger across my chin, "absolutely take my breath away."
It was right then that I knew, down to my curling toes and thumping heart, that I had made the correct decision, maybe the most correct decision ever to be made in the history of decision-making. I reached for him, torn between wanting to stare into his incredible green eyes and an almost painful desire to kiss him.
Naturally, we kissed. And kissed. — Ophelia London

Meg turned and gazed out the rear windshield, probably checking for any shiny blobs pursuing us. "At least we're not being - "

"Don't say it," Percy warned.

Meg huffed. "You don't know what I was going to - "

"You were going to say, 'At least we're not being followed,'" Percy said. "That'll jinx us. Immediately we'll notice that we are being followed. Then we'll end up in a big battle that totals my family car and probably destroys the whole freeway. Then we'll have to run all the way to camp."

Meg's eyes widened. "You can tell the future?"

"Don't need to." Percy changed lanes to one that was crawling slightly less slowly. "I've just done this a lot. — Rick Riordan

His green-flecked brown eyes twinkle, and we laugh together, easy and light. He opens the door for me, and I say goodbye, floating over to where my family waits in our Winnebago. And I can't tell you if my feet actually touch the ground, because at this very moment, this Bird, well, she flies. — Alecia Whitaker

Are you not weary of ardent ways, Lure of the fallen seraphim? Tell no more of enchanted days. Your eyes have set man's heart ablaze And you have had your will of him. Are you not weary of ardent ways? Above the flame the smoke of praise Goes up from ocean rim to rim. Tell no more of enchanted days. Our broken cries and mournful lays Rise in one eucharistic hymn. Are you not weary of ardent ways? While sacrificing hands upraise The chalice flowing to the brim. Tell no more of enchanted days. And still you hold our longing gaze With languorous look and lavish limb! Are you not weary of ardent ways? Tell no more of enchanted days. — James Joyce

See," he began, leaning back into the booth, "I was at this car dealership today, and I saw this girl. It was an across-a-crowded-room kind of thing. A real moment, you know?" I rolled my eyes. Chloe said, "And this would be Remy?" "Right. Remy," he said, repeating my name with a smile. Then, as if we were happy honeymooners recounting our story for strangers he added, "Do you want to tell the next part?" "No," I said flatly. — Sarah Dessen

I need to tell you a story.'

What about?

Zachariah, Zachariah, my foundling boy. 'A boy. A boxer, a fighting man. A brother. No. About brothers, sisters. Foundlings, laid-in-the-streets. Fights, fighting. A boy, it all begins with the boy. My love. A wolf. Peter and the Wolf! Oh dear! I am very crazy! Let me - I must tell you this story.'

Why?

'I'm frightened.'

Of?

'Fractals. Patterns.'

Ah, says the fish, looking at Rachel with his wise eyes. Chaos!

'Yes,' thinks Rachel. 'Chaos. Fearful symmetry.'

Go home, says the fish, flipping over, flashing in light, and diving down into the great blue sea. — Emma Richler

My wife can look at me in a certain way and I can tell by her eyes how she's feeling about me or when I should stop talking about something. It's kind of the way twins have their own thing. — Pete Wentz

And how do you explain to your wife that you don't have all the answers, and that you might not know what you are doing, and that you are afraid you are going to fail? How do you admit that you are most afraid that, one day, she'll walk - and replace you with an educated, professor-type guy, who shares her same interests, schedule, and the way she was used to living, especially when all of your friends, your business associates, even your own damned brother, are all just waiting for you to mess up so they can have a shot at taking her away from you? How do you look the woman you love in her eyes and tell her that? — Leslie Esdaile

His eyes trace the droplets branching down my chest.
They stop at my waistband.
"Brandon. Cutie."
"Yeah."
"You're still wearing your boxers."
"I am."
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
"No."
"Are you actually a Ken doll?"
"Nope."
"Is your dad a secret superhero and you have a bionic penis and you make up this big religious-paranoia back story because it shoots laser beams and has the strength of a bulldozer?"
"Yes."
"I knew it. — J.C. Lillis

He rid himself of his own pants, and unlike her, he was naked, his cock hard. He didn't shield himself, let himself be studied as she wished, but his eyes lost the mirth from before as he waited for her next move.
Strange. When she approached him, she expected to have a moment's hesitation sometime during their play, a voice that would tell her this wasn't a good idea. Right now was a perfect time for that voice to show up, but her body only thrummed. She leaned up on her elbows, giving him an exaggerated once-over. "That thing looks more dangerous than what you show in the cage."
And with that, the mirth was back, and all hardness in him was due to desire. "Wait until you see it in action."
"Well, for that, I think you need to come closer. — Danielle Monsch

It looked like she held a basketful of woven gold.
Arin leap down the stairs. He strode up to his cousin and seized her arm.
"Arin!"
"What did you do?"
Sarsine jerked away. "What she wanted. Pull yourself together."
But Arin only saw Kestrel as she had been last night before the ball. How her hair had been a spill of low light over his palms. He had threaded desire into those braids, had wanted her to sense it even as he dreaded that she would. He had met her eyes in the mirror, and didn't know, couldn't tell her feelings. He only knew the fire of his own.
"It's just hair," Sarsine said. "It will grow back."
"Yes," said Arin, "but no everything does. — Marie Rutkoski

Independence is the luxury of all those people who are too confident, and busy, and popular, and attractive to be just plain old lonely. And make no mistake, lonely is absolutely the worst thing to be. Tell someone that you've got a drink problem, or an eating disorder, or your dad died when you were a kid even, and you can almost see their eyes light up with the sheer fascinating drama and pathos of it all, because you've got an issue, something for them to get involved in, to talk about and analyse and discuss and maybe even cure. But tell someone you're lonely and of course they'll seem sympathetic, but look very carefully and you'll see one hand snaking behind their back, groping for the door handle, ready to make a run for it, as if loneliness itself were contagious. Because being lonely is just so banal, so shaming, so plain and dull and ugly. — David Nicholls

What did they do to you, to make you withdraw so far into yourself? (Sin doesn't answer.) You've left me again, haven't you? I can always tell. Your eyes turn dull, cold. Very well, I shall leave you in peace. But know this: One day I am going to find the heart you have buried away from the world. (Callie)
And what would you do with it if you found it? (Sin)
I would hold it safe and keep it from the hurt that has shriveled it. (Callie) — Kinley MacGregor

All I could think about while driving after you was how it was about to happen all over again and that I would never be able to feel your warm skin under my hands or look into your beautiful blue eyes, or tell you how much I love you. — Michelle Madow

Wasn't really, to tell you the truth. No shock at all." Then he went on: "I always told her she should go, told her she should go and find love, you know, true love. She deserves it, don't you think? That's where she's gone now. Off to find true love. Perhaps she'll find it too. Out there, on the South China Sea, who knows? Perhaps she'll meet a traveller, in a port, in a hotel, who knows? She's become a romantic, you see? I had to let her go." There were now tears welling in his eyes. — Kazuo Ishiguro

Are you in?" I roll my eyes and try to kiss him again, but he won't let me. I pinch his nipples, and all he does is wink and growl at me. "Say it."
"Fuck you"
"We'll get there, Naomi. Be patient. But first, you have to say it." I keep glaring, but I feel my body melting, my shields and my walls crashing down in flames. "Say you're mine, tell me that you're my girlfriend."
"You're my boyfriend," I say, and the words nearly kill me. "That's all you get for now. Best I can fucking do. — C.M. Stunich

I met Tiger Woods, and I looked in his eyes - and I saw Derek Jeter. They don't have to tell people they're good. They just prove it by the way they love the competition. — Joe Torre

People say you can tell you're in love with someone when you find it impossible to get that person out of your mind. But it was my eyes that were the first to know. — Satosumi Takaguchi

I believe in heaven more than hell, lessons more than jail.
In the ghetto, let love prevail with a story to tell.
My eyes see the glory, and well,
The world waiting for me to yell, "I Have A Dream!" — Common

Just close your eyes and try to think it over
You realize I'm not the man you know, girl
I hypotize ya
I paralyze ya
Go on and scream cause nobody's gonna find ya

Did I ever think to tell you I am a monster?
You ain't ever seen this side of me
Maybe I should wear a warning that says there is danger,
If you ever get too close to me... — Kris Allen

Adam stared down at me, his expression thunderous. "It was you. I know it was you."
My head was rocking side to side before I could stop it. "No." I wrenched my hand free of his. "You're wrong."
"I'm not!" Anger blazed hot behind his eyes as they burned into me. "Look at me, Kia! Look me in the eye and tell me you're not her. — Airicka Phoenix

look before you draw and believe what your eyes, not the rest of your head, tell you. — Danny Gregory

When everyone in America knows you're in a dreadful position, admit you're in a dreadful position. Don't lie about it and make them roll their eyes, tell the truth and make them blink. — Peggy Noonan

I brought the newspaper close up to my eyes to get a better view of George Pollucci's face, spotlighted like a three-quarter moon against a vague background of brick and black sky. I felt he had something important to tell me, and that whatever it was might just be written on his face.
But the smudgy crags of George Pollucci's features melted away as I peered at them, and resolved themselves into a regular pattern of dark and light and medium gray dots.
The inky black newspaper paragraph didn't tell why Mr Pollucci was on the ledge, or what Sgt Kilmartin did to him when he finally got him in through the window. — Sylvia Plath

Tell me when it's over " Thalia said. Her eyes were shut tight. The statue was holding on to us so we couldn't fall but still Thalia clutched his arm like it was the most important thing in the world.
"Everything's fine " I promised.
"Are ... are we very high "
I looked down. Below us a range of snowy mountains zipped by. I stretched out my foot and kicked snow off one of the peaks.
"Nah " I said. "Not that high. — Rick Riordan

So tell me honey," he said just above a whisper, "what's got your beautiful eyes so sad? — Rachel Gibson

The worst stage was when one could tell she was still awake and almost alert, but she knew that nothing worked. Imprisoned. She was imprisoned. In a statue like the Sphinx. Looking out from the eyes. Her own mind, at that point, was as small and bewildered as a little fly. Behind great battlements. — M T Anderson

I spoke with Steve Brown today, the man who owns Smith's house, and I had another talk with Jared. I have to tell you some things, and you're not going to like it. I don't think Dru has been honest with you." Cole paused for Pike to react, but Pike gave him no more reaction than a department store mannequin. The cat left the edge of the deck, twined once through Pike's legs, then sat, its eyes narrow and watchful. — Robert Crais

For she was the only girl they loved, as she is the queenly pearl you prize, because of the way the night that first we met she is bound to be, methinks, and not in vain, the darling of my heart, sleeping in her april cot, within her singachamer, with her greengageflavoured candywhistle duetted to the crazyquilt, Isobel, she is so pretty, truth to tell, wildwood's eyes and primarose hair, quietly, all the woods so wild, in mauves of moss and daphnedews, how all so still she lay, neath of the whitethorn, child of tree, like some losthappy leaf, like blowing flower stilled, as fain would she anon, for soon again 'twill be, win me, woo me, wed me, ah weary me! — James Joyce

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie:
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. — Wilfred Owen

Tell me what to wish for," I say. "Tell me what to ask the sea for."
"To be happy. Happiness."
I close my eyes. My mind is full of Corr, of the ocean, of Puck Connelly's lips on mine. "I don't think such a thing is had on Thisby. And if it is, I don't know how you would keep it."
... Puck's voice is in my ear; her breath warms my neck inside my jacket collar. "You whisper to it. What it needs to hear. Isn't that what you said? — Maggie Stiefvater

I wanted to tell a dream-come-true story about going from a closeted gay kid who loved pop culture to an out adult man making pop culture. I went from being told when I was 21 that I should never go on TV because of my crossed eyes to winding up being a 'Housewives' whisperer and talk-show host. — Andy Cohen

Always," I tell him. He catches his breath and I lean away until I can see his eyes. "I'm scared of losing my heart to you. But I think it's a risk I'm willing to take. — Carrie Ryan

Ben didn't disappoint. "See? You lost it and lived to tell about it." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "You even survived a man hug." He rounded his eyes in feigned astonishment.
Wiping at his puffy eyes with his fingers, a watery laugh escaped him. "You always were an affectionate little shit. — Kaylea Cross

Modern barber college, Smith eyes closed suffers a haircut fearing its ugliness 50 cents, a barber student olive-skinned 'Garcia' on his coat, two blond small boys one with feared face and big ears watching from seats, tell him 'You're ugly little boy & you've got big ears' he'd weep and suffer and it wouldn't even be true, the other thinfaced conscious concentrated patched bluejeans and scuffed shoes who watches me delicate, suffering child that grows hard and greedy with puberty. — Jack Kerouac

Brother I've been right where you are now
And my heart was broke
Cause I never spoke
Those healing words out loud

But I've learned my lesson well
And now every night
Before I close my eyes
I look at my woman and
I ask myself did you

Tell her that you love her
Tell her that you need her
Tell her that you want her to stay
Reassure her with a kiss
She may never know unless you
Show her what your feeling
Tell her you're believing
Even though it's hard to say
'Cause she needs to know you're thinking of her
So open up and tell her that you love her — Lonestar

But did he go to heaven?" Katherine persisted.
"That's between him and God, not him and history," JB said.
Alex started, jerking so spastically that he kicked the basketball and would have sent it spinning out into the street if Chip hadn't caught it. Amazingly, Chip still seemed to have a swordsman's quick reflexes.
"YOU believe in God?" Alex asked JB incredulously. "But you know how to travel through time. You're a scientist." He hesitated. "Aren't you?"
JB rolled his eyes.
"It amazes me how people of your time set up such a false dichotomy between science and religion. Fortunately, that only lasts for another ... well, I can't tell you that," he said, stopping himself just in time. "But I assure you, the more I travel through time, the more I witness, the more I realize that there are things that are both strange and wonderful, far beyond human comprehension." (pgs 299-300) — Margaret Peterson Haddix

We're two of a kind, that donkey and me, said Caridad in a dreamy voice. Foreigners in our own land. I would have liked to tell her she was wrong, to point out that in the eyes of the law, I was the only foreigner, but I kept my mouth shut. I put my arm gently around her waist and waited. Caridad might have been foreign to God, to the police and even to herself, but she wasn't foreign to me. I could have said the same for the donkey. — Roberto Bolano

You may tell the greatest lies and wear a brilliant disguise, but you can't escape the eyes of the one who sees right through you. — Tom Robbins

Because if you take something you're a thief.' She nursed the silence a moment. Downed the balance of her drink and silently signaled for another. 'Sounds simple, but you'd be amazed how many people don't get it. They steal but they call themselves honest. They cheat on their spouses and lovers but they think they're good people. They lie but they'd never call themselves liars. Well, let me tell you something, Todd ... She pointed toward him with her right hand, with her lit cigarette. He leaned away slightly. She looked into the mirror of his eyes and saw herself going too far. 'You are what you do. That's what I'm trying to tell you. What we do defines us. However we behave, conduct our lives ... that's real. The rest is just a story for publication. — Catherine Ryan Hyde

He looked down at the books. There was a long silence. Then he raised his eyes and directed his gaze at Gershon, and Gershon did not look away. "I will tell you, Loran what is of importance is not that there may be nothing. We have always acknowledged that as a possibility. What is important is that if indeed there is nothing, then we should be prepared to make something out of the one thing we have left to us
ourselves. I do not know what else to tell you, Loran. No one is in possession of all wisdom. No one." Gershon sat in silence, looking at Nathan Malkuson. — Chaim Potok

Alabaster, you told me earlier that heroes don't die. You may be right, but I can tell you one thing." Claymore looked the boy in the eyes. "I'm not a hero. — Rick Riordan