Quotes & Sayings About Getting Lost In His Eyes

Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share. — Mark Z. Danielewski

It was a Different Time. People were Friendly. We trusted each other. Hell, you could afford to get mixed up with wild strangers in those days
without fearing for your life, or your eyes, or your organs, or all of your money, or even getting locked up in prison forever. There was a sense of possibility. People were not so afraid, as they are now. You could run around naked without getting shot. You could check into a roadside motel on the outskirts of Ely or Winnemucca or Elko where you were lost in a midnight rainstorm
and nobody called the police on you, just to check out your credit and your employment history and your medical records and how many parking tickets you owed in California. — Hunter S. Thompson

What's wrong?" she began quietly, her large, liquid eyes illuminated with hysteria. She laughed like a loon and said, "Where shall we begin? I'm tired. I'm sore." Her voice began lilting and rising, getting louder with every sentence. Grabbing at her chest, she shouted, "I've got a corset wrapped so tightly over my breasts that I can hardly breathe! I lost both my socks and my shoes! My hands are a pulp of lacerations!" She lifted them up before her, fingers spread, and laughed again. "I've a gash -- a throbbing, bleeding gash on the back of my scalp! And let's not forget to mention that I'm surrounded by men of the most vile, disreputable character imaginable, stuck on board a ship, in the middle of the bloody Atlantic! — Gabriela Lawson

He looked up and I realised how close we were, both of us leaning in together. I blinked a few times, suddenly light-headed, but not like before when I'd passed out. Being so close to the smooth dark skin of his face, getting lost in the shifting shades of his green eyes, it felt like my insides were fluttering and melting. — Heather Anastasiu

He dipped his head to kiss her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he slowly lowered her back to the floor. He took his time tasting her lips, her tongue, memorizing the feel of her curves against him. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.
She gripped the front of his shirt, holding him in place. "Don't stop."
"No, no more stopping." He kissed her again, getting lost in the blur of clothes being tossed off, her skin under his fingertips, and the hum of his heart as he fully let himself fall. — Cindi Madsen

Lucius paused, turning on his heel to face me. "I grow weary of your ignorance." He moved closer to me, leaning down and peering into my eyes. "Because your parents refuse to inform you, I will deliver the news myself,and I shall make this simple for you." He pointed to his chest and announced, as though talking to a child, "I am a vampire." He pointed to my chest. "You are a vampire. And we are to be married, the moment you come of age. This has been decreed since our births."
I couldn't even process the "getting married" part, or the thing about "decreed." He'd lost me at "vampire."
Nuts. Lucius Vladescu is completely nuts. And I'm alone with him, in an empty barn.
So I did what any sane person would do. I jammed the pitchfork in the general direction of his foot and ran like hell for the house, ignoring his yowl of pain. — Beth Fantaskey

What, you didn't pack your lunch?" Ty asked sarcastically as he
shifted around in the seat and wedged himself against the door. He kicked a
foot up and propped it on the console between the two front seats.
"Sure, in my SpongeBob SquarePants lunch box. I have the thermos,
too," Morrison shot right back.
Zane kept his mouth shut, eyes moving between the two men, and
occasionally back to the driver, who was casually paying attention.
Ty stared at the kid and narrowed his eyes further. "Spongewhat?" he
asked flatly.
Zane didn't even try to hold back the chuckle when Morrison looked
at Ty like he'd lost his mind.
"Spongewha ... you're yanking my chain, aren't you?" Morrison
said. "Henny, he's yanking my chain."
"Yeah, well, that's what you getting for waving it in his face," the
driver answered reasonably.
"What the hell is a SpongeBob?" Ty asked Zane quietly in the
backseat. — Madeleine Urban

The future rushes in and all we can do is take our memories and move forward with them. Memory keeps only what it wants. Images from memories are sprinkled throughout our lives, but that does not mean we must believe that our own or other people's memories are of things that really happened. When someone stubbornly insists that they saw something with their own eyes, I take it as a statement mixed with wishful thinking. As what they want to believe. Yet as imperfect as memories are, whenever I am faced with one, I cannot help getting lost in thought. Especially when that memory reminds me of what it felt like to be always out of place and always a step behind. Why was it so hard for me to open my eyes every morning, why was I so afraid to form a relationship with anyone, and why was I nevertheless able to break down my walls and find him? — Kyung-Sook Shin

All I had to see was his face. Unaware of an audience, lost in the repeated rhythm of the piano riff, lit by the evening, it was like all of Cole's armor had fallen off. This was not the aggressively handsome, cocky guy that I had met a few days ago. This was just a boy getting to know a tune. He looked young and uncertain and endearing, and I felt betrayed that he was somehow getting himself together when I couldn't.
Somehow, he was yet again being honest, sharing another secret, when I didn't have anything I was willing to give in return. For once, I saw something in his eyes. I saw that he was feeling again, and that whatever he was feeling was hurting him.
I wasn't ready to hurt. — Maggie Stiefvater

Her eyes weren't blinking. There was still something almost dead in them, something very far away. She seemed to be seeing all the way through to the back of him and beyond, out into the cold space of the future in which they would both soon be dead, out into the nothingness that Lalitha and his mother and his father had already passed into, and yet she was looking straight into his eyes, and he could feel her getting warmer by the minute. And so he stopped looking at her eyes and started looking into them, returning their look before it was too late, before this connection between life and what came after life was lost, and let her see all the vileness inside him, all the hatreds of two thousand solitary nights, while the two of them were still with the void in which the sum of everything they'd ever said or done, every pain they'd inflicted, every joy they'd shared, would weigh less than the smallest feather on the wind. — Jonathan Franzen

Cullan was not getting enough sleep without Alynna beside him, and as much as he did not want to admit it, he knew that he is missing her so much his heart ache. He never saw her smile anymore, and it was killing him. Alynna lost the sparkle in her eyes, and had it replaced with sadness.

Alynna's face always had the look of mourning, and he wasn't even dead yet. — Nicholaa Spencer

I lifted my chin, meeting the eyes of the woman who'd become the living embodiment of my totem, my bright phoenix, and forged ahead. "But I live with the wrong choices, the paths untraveled, the lives lost, and I never hold those regrets against anyone but myself. So, if you have some reason that you think I'll regret getting in that car or not getting in that car, then tell me. Because I won't have anything between us, either." My mind flashed to an hourglass, grains of sand trickling away, carrying my life with them. "At least, nothing that we can avoid...like the fear of unspoken words. — Marie Castle

On the field, priorities suddenly become crystal clear. Lostness stares me in the face, hems me in all about. Issues are black and white, life and death. How many of our church squabbles, debates of theology, and worries about politics could be set aside by getting our eyes back on the lost masses? The priority of their eternal destiny trumps all these lesser things. — Steve Smith

She met his eyes and playing fair lost its appeal. "You are not going to forget me," she said, her chin up. "I don't give a damn what your plans are, you still want me. Just don't expect me to sit around waiting
until you get your commitment problem worked out because I'm getting a brand-new life with this haircut, and it's going to include a brand-new sex life, too. Sorry you won't be joining me. — Jennifer Crusie

The burn was immediate but welcomed. He rode his own fingers, getting lost in the friction, his eyes sliding closed. The bed shifted and Judge was gone but Michaels didn't stop, couldn't stop. Judge was back with the lube, hurrying out of his jeans and spreading the slick liquid on his fingers before he even got back on the bed. Someone else was just as restless as he was. Michaels pulled his t-shirt all the way off, spreading his legs wider in obvious invitation. "Fuck," Judge whispered; his eyes on Michaels' stretched hole. He rolled a condom down his long shaft and slicked himself up good. When — A.E. Via