Quotes & Sayings About Honey Eyes

And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

He loved her eyes. They were always changing, and Lucas liked to catalogue all their different colors in his mind. When she laughed, her eyes were pale amber, like honey sitting in a glass jar on a sunny window. When he kissed her, they darkened until they were the rich color of mahogany leather, but with strips of red and gold thread shot through. Right now they were turning dark - inviting him to lower his lips to hers. — Josephine Angelini

Fine then if that's what you want. You go digging in my head and I'm going to stand here and undress you with my eyes until you're buck naked. Just so you know, I'm putting you in a sheer red thong. No bra ... maybe a pair of red pasties ... no, better yet, strawberry-flavored nipple paint and I'm coating your entire body in honey. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

All the humor evaporates from his face and his honey-brown eyes. Within seconds he has me in his arms and he hugs me like I'm the most important thing in the world to him. — Jessica Sorensen

It's just that even though I'm totally old and unhip,I remember what boys in high school were like.Especially the kind like Jack Caputo."
"What kind is that?"
"The kind that doesn't even walk a girl to the door."
I rolled my eyes. "Well,he would have, but he had to go drop off his other dates. There were three of us." My dad finally cracked a smile. "Good night,old man," I said,giving him a hug.
"Wait a sec,honey.Did I do that okay?"
I pulled back. "Do what okay?" It hit me then that this was my first dance since my mom died.I felt a little guilty that I hadn't realized it before. It was just that the night was so perfect. Before he could explain, I said, "Yes.You did great."
"Night,Nikki."
The next morning,I found a note in my jacket pocket.I unfolded it and read two words, written in Jack's handwriting.
Ever Yours. — Brodi Ashton

Joe hid his grin. "A little grab-ass is not accosting." At the worst of times, Luna could amuse him. And now he finally had her where he wanted her.
...
Her mesmerizing eyes shone with annoyance and disbelief. "I barely knew you, Joe. I brought you a sandwich, and half a minute later you had your hands all over me."
Despite his aches and pains, the memory warmed Joe. Locking onto her gaze, he said in his defense, "You have that kind of bottom, honey. All round and soft."
Her color deepened. "Of all the stupid, sexist
"
"It's irresistible," Joe insisted, and meant it. "It begs for a man's hands. It
" There looked to be an explosion imminent, so Joe wisely let that go for now and instead distracted her. "And for your information, no. I didn't get beat up by a woman." He snorted. "How absurd is that?"
"I dunno." Her body vibrated with tension. "I'm ready to beat you up."
-Joe and Luna — Lori Foster

She made a creche outside the Inn. The natives thought it was wonderful, and Sister Honey was gratified by their numbers.
Why have the devils with wings come to mock at the poor baby?' asked the children, pointing to the angels.
The baby is the Number One Lord Jesus Christ,' Ayah told them.
But he hasn't any clothes on! Aren't they going to give Him anything? Not a little red robe? Not a bit of melted butter?'
This is His Mother,' said Ayah, showing them the little porcelain Virgin in blue and white and pink. 'He is her child.'
That isn't true,' said the women, measuring the baby with their eyes. 'He's too big to be possible. Probably He's a dragon, an evil spirit in the shape of a child, and presently He'll eat up the woman. — Rumer Godden

When I finally calmed down, I handed her the Ewok. "Can you go back and give it to him" I said. "Oh, honey," she answered. "That's so sweet of you. But Isabel can clean the Lego set. It'll be good as new for Auggie, don't worry." "No, for the other kid," I answered. She looked at me a second, like she didn't know what to say. "Via said he doesn't speak any English," I sai. "It must be really scary for him, being in the hospital." She nodded slowly. "Yeah," she whispered. "It must be." She closed her eyes and hugged me again. And then she took me over to the security desk, where I waited until she went back up the elevator and, after about five minutes, came back down again. "Did he like it?" I asked. "Honeyboy," she said softly, brushing the hair out of my eyes. "You made his day. — R.J. Palacio

She reached for the milk and honey soap, then poured it into the puff, but when she started washing him with it, he chuckled.
"Uh, sweetheart?"
"Hmm?" Candice mumbled as she stared at some interesting spot on his arm.
"Real men don't use puffs," he said, amused and turned on by having Candice's undivided attention.
She finally managed to drag her gaze away from his forearm and stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. "You can't be serious?" When he only shrugged, she rolled her eyes. "What does it matter what I use, so long as you're clean?"
"It matters, believe me." Blade knew he sounded absurd but he couldn't help it. It was bad enough he'd let her put bandages on a few measly cuts; if word got out he'd let her use a peach-colored puff and milk-and-honey bath soap he'd never hear the end of it.
A man had to put his foot down somewhere. — Anne Rainey

Isaac's face lit up. The phrase was literally true in his case, for his cheeks and the tip of his nose shone rosily and his blue eyes were suddenly as flooded with light as sapphires held to the sun. In the country of his mind the advancing shadows were halted and rolled back upon themselves like the fen mists when the wind suddenly freshened from the sea. He glowed and the Dean felt a pang of sadness. What would this man have been, what would he have done, had he not been so wrenched from the true by the sufferings of his boyhood? Yet perhaps without them he would not have been Bella's fairy man. Such twistings sometimes forced out poison but at other times honey. It depended what was at the heart of a man. — Elizabeth Goudge

With a sigh, he pulled out his link.
"What are you doing?"
"Ordering pizza
for your division
and more for the E and B team. And don't give me any bloody grief about it. I'm a bit on edge here as I couldn't get through the bloody, buggering door for more than five minutes
and that was after Feeney started on it before me. And my wife about to be blown to bits on the other side."
She knew the fear, the soul-emptying terror of it. She'd felt it for him a time or two. All she could do now was try to ease it.
"I wasn't going to let that happen."
"Weren't you now?"
"Nope. I wasn't going to let the last words I said to you be 'Later, honey.'"
Since it made him laugh, she sat back, closed her eyes for one blessed moment while she heard him ordering twenty-five (good God!) large pies with a variety of toppings. — J.D. Robb

What drew her into O'Riley's like a bee to honey was the six-foot, broad-shouldered, dark eyes, dark smile of Finn O'Riley himself. — Jill Shalvis

Drink up my honey eyes,
Kiss them shut every night,
And be my 'one' all my life. — Crystal Woods

Even as I hold you
I think of you as someone gone
far, far away. Your eyes the color
of pennies in a bowl of dark honey
bringing sweet light to someone else
your black hair slipping through my fingers
is the flash of your head going
around a corner
your smile, breaking before me,
the flippant last turn
of a revolving door,
emptying you out, changed,
away from me.
Even as I hold you
I am letting go. — Alice Walker

Was love then like a bag of assorted sweets passed around from which one might choose more than once? Some might sting the tongue, some invoke night perfume. Some had centers as bitter as gall, some blended honey and poison, some were quickly swallowed. And among the common bull's-eyes and peppermints a few rare ones; one or two with deadly needles at the heart, another that brought clam and gentle pleasure. Were his fingers closing on that one? — Annie Proulx

Hey." I folded my arms, trying to keep my own eyes on her face. "Aren't you supposed to be a virgin goddess?"
A soft, tinkling laughing came from her. "Honey, have you ever heard of kiss and don't tell?"
"Have you ever heard of a bra?" I demanded. "Because I can see your ... you know. Everything. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

A sound of laughter was heard-they turned sharply. Vera Claythorne was standing in the yard. She cried out in a high shrill voice, shaken with wild bursts of laughter:
"Do they keep bees on this island? Tell me that. Where do we go for honey? Ha! ha!"
They stared at her uncomprehendingly. It was as though the sane well-balanced girl had gone mad right before their eyes. She went on in that high unnatural voice:
"Don't stare like that! As though you thought I was mad. It's sane enough what I'm asking. Bees, hives, bees! Oh, don't you understand? Haven't you read that idiotic rhyme? It's up in all of your bedrooms-put it there for you to study! We might have come here straightaway if we'd had sense. Seven little soldiers chopping up sticks. And the next verse, I know the whole thing by heart, I tell you! Six little soldier boys playing with a hive. And that's why I'm asking-do they keep bees on this island- isn't it damned funny ... ? — Agatha Christie

Oh, honey, if you look close enough, everything is in those eyes. That's why they're so dark. They are full. Full of every secret, every promise, and every temptation that can make a good girl do really bad things and enjoy every second of it. — Jay Crownover

Yum his lips were soft, wet and warm, tasted of honey. He looked hot today; a dark, tight blue tank top showed off his six-pack and muscular arms. The blue in his eyes were luminous. — Elena Carpenter

Madison rolled her eyes. "I blew a tire."
"Wait. I can't hear you. Guys, can you keep it down?" His voice got a little farther away from the mouthpiece. "Maddie's on the phone and she blew something." The room erupted in male laughter.
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
"Sorry about that, honey. Now, what happened?" her father asked. "You blew a fire?"
"I blew a tire! A tire! You know those things that are round and made of rubber? — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I shrug and shuffle my toe across the carpet in front of me, feeling silly. "So? It's a compliment being like you."
All the humor evaporates from his face and his honey-brown eyes. Within seconds he has me in his arms and he hugs me like I'm the most important thing in the world to him. "Don't ever change, Callie Lawrence," he whispers in my hair. "Promise me you won't. — Jessica Sorensen

From History to Chance
The river of time was flowing on its way, and I was swimming over its honey coloured surface with eyes closed. Does time move? It's debatable. But we definitely move, age to age, with time and away from it, from its unmoving faces. To see its new faces. In its widest, longest and strangest art gallery. — Jamaluddin Jamali

I sighed, sinking back, head filling with pleasant images; pictures Pietr floated to the surface. Kisses scorched along my face and neck. "Pietr ... "
There was a growl, and I felt fingers at the waistband of my jeans. The button opened and a hand traced along the top of my underpants.
"No," I said. The kissing resumed, harder. "Jessica." The word rumbled in someone's throat. Not Pietr's. To him, I was Jess.
"No," I insisted, trying to pry my eyes open. Something was wrong ... Not Pietr ... I pushed at the chest above me, my eyelids stinging as I willed them apart.
"Relax ... " a voice said, lips dragging along the cornerof my jaw, filling my head with honey, sticky and sweet ... — Shannon Delany

Did you enjoy that?"

His eyes narrow and now he's frowning, like he's not entirely sure he understands the question. "Did I enjoy eating your pussy? Wasn't it obvious?"

"Just answer the question."

"I could eat that pussy for hours and never get tired of the way you taste," Daniel tells me, and his fingers skim up my spine again. "Love your honey on my tongue and the way you shiver when I touch your clit. So, yeah, I fucking loved it. — Jessica Clare

Her eyes were liquid silver as they narrowed at him, swirling with as many mysteries as the stars in the night sky. "I want a family," she murmured. "And I'll do what I must to get it."
The naked, aching honesty in her voice pierced him with a poisoned arrow, and he could feel the toxins spreading through his blood. Soon he would be completely paralyzed, a victim of the opposing forces now quarreling inside him like two wolves fighting for dominance. The two strongest emotions known to man.
He took in a deep breath, the scent of her honey soap and the lavender water evading his senses with the subtlety of a Roman legion. — Kerrigan Byrne

I like to see your eyes praise me and, during such recitals, there are interruptions, not ungrateful to the heart, when the honey that drops from the lips is not merely words. — Mary Wollstonecraft

Here's what vampires shouldn't be: pallid detectives that drink Bloody Marys and work only at night; lovelorn southern gentlemen; anorexic teenage girls; boy-toys with big dewy eyes. What should they be? Killers, honey. Stone killers that can't get enough of that tasty Type-A. Bad boys and girls. Hunters. In other words, Midnight America. Red, white and blue, accent on the red. Those vamps got hijacked by a lot of soft-focus romance. — Stephen King

My eyes went to him. "Your rule, honey. I can go put panties on." His eyes came to me. "You do, I get the strap. — Kristen Ashley

This time is difficult, wait for me: we will live it out vividly. Give me your small hand: we will rise and suffer, we will feel and rejoice. We are once more the pair who lived in bristling places, in harsh nests in the rock. This time is difficult, wait for me with a basket, with a shovel, with your shoes and your clothes. Now we need each other not only for the carnations' sake, not only to look for honey: we need our hands to wash with and to make fire, and so let our difficult time stand up to infinity with four hands and four eyes. — Pablo Neruda

She danced with complete abandon. She never felt so light and free. She could stretch her arms forever, touch the heavens and pull down the stars. She would give him the stars to keep in his pocket, she thought. They would bring him good luck. She jumped and laughed and drew giggles from some of the other girls. She felt high, though she never before experienced a drug high. But then what was she thinking? He was her drug, and she felt high on the dark, rich honey. Honey that matched the color of his eyes. She could drink him to overflowing and never be satisfied. She was filled with the honey even now; it coursed through her limbs - a powerful, exotic, demanding potion that ordered her to dance. And so she did. She danced. — S. Walden

That's right, honey, state your claim on Mr. Yummy Pants. I'd do the same if I were you.
A grin ticked at my mouth. I swept my gaze over the muscled roundness of Bones's ass, which his black jeans only highlighted. Then I gazed at the snug fit of the front that had nothing to do with the cut of the denim. Finally, I met Tyler's chocolate-colored eyes and winked back. — Jeaniene Frost

To understand something and to put that something into a form that you can see with your own eyes are two completely different things. If you could manage to do both equally well, living would be a lot simpler (from Honey Pie) — Haruki Murakami

Upon it rested a slender crystal glass filled with a thick blue liquid: shade of the evening, the wine of warlocks. "Take and drink," urged Pyat Pree. "Will it turn my lips blue?" "One draught will serve only to unstop your ears and dissolve the caul from off your eyes, so that you may hear and see the truths that will be laid before you." Dany raised the glass to her lips. The first sip tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, — George R R Martin

The girl stood in the center of the large four-poster bed. She wore a nightgown and robe that Cordelia had generously, and unknowingly, donated. Anything of Emily's would have been far too short and too small. Her honey-colored hair fell over her shoulders in messy waves and her similarly colored eyes were almost black with wildness, her pupils unnaturally dilated.
Fear. He felt it roll off her in great waves. It shimmered around her in a rich red aura Griff knew he alone could see, as it was viewable only on the Aetheric plane. She was afraid of them and, like a trapped animal, her answer to fear was to fight rather than flee. Interesting.
She was certainly a sight to behold. Normally she was probably quite pretty, but right now she was ... she was ...
She was bloody magnificent. That's what she was. Except for the blood, of course. — Kady Cross

The trebling of the population in this small and impoverished country, flowing with milk and honey but not with sufficient water, rich in rocks and sand dunes but poor in natural resources and vital raw materials, has been no easy task: Indeed, practical men, with their eyes fixed upon things as they are, regarded it as an empty and insubstantial utopian dream. — David Ben-Gurion

Kate opens a jar of honey and pours a thick line of the sticky stuff over the top edge of the wound. Setting the jar back on the counter, she picks up the first strip of cloth and gently wraps it around his arm. As she works, she can feel his eyes on her, watching her silently. She stands close, and his injured arm is outstretched just enough for his hand to be hanging in the air beside her waist. When she tugs on the bandage to make the first knot, his hand is pulled to her, lightly brushing the side of her body with the tips of his fingers. When she tugs again, he presses his hand to her waist, and she feels the subtle constriction of his fingertips. — Kari Aguila

Yes. He told me things. Like what for instance? Like once he said I had beautiful eyes. He said my eyes were like black diamonds lit up on a starry night. They are, honey. But nobody ever told me. No, Maggie said. They never do. — Kent Haruf

She's got long dark hair, neatly secured at the nape of her neck, and wide honey-colored eyes with the same thick, dark eyelashes as Jase. Her eyes are weary though, and are currently sizing me up. I wonder what Jase has told her about me. — Anonymous

A lover has four streams inside, of water, wine, honey, and milk. Find those in yourself, and pay no attention what so-and-so says about such-and-such. The rose does not care if someone calls it a thorn, or a jasmine. Ordinary eyes categorize human beings, That one is a Zoroastrian. This one, Muslim. Walk instead with the other vision given you, your first eyes. — Jalaluddin Rumi

Thanks to my mother, I was raised to have a morbid imagination. When I was a child, she often talked about death as warning, as an unavoidable matter of fact. Little Debbie's mom down the block might say, 'Honey, look both ways before crossing the street.' My mother's version: 'You don't look, you get smash flat like sand dab.' (Sand dabs were the cheap fish we bought live in the market, distinguished in my mind by their two eyes affixed on one side of their woebegone cartoon faces.)
The warnings grew worse, depending on the danger at hand. Sex education, for example, consisted of the following advice: 'Don't ever let boy kiss you. You do, you can't stop. Then you have baby. You put baby in garbage can. Police find you, put you in jail, then you life over, better just kill youself. — Amy Tan

Sleep, honey. We can play later." And if she hadn't seen it with her own tired eyes, she never would've believed it. Like the snuffing of a candle, he was asleep in seconds. Burning red hot one moment, a ghost of dissipating smoke the next.

Hope inventoried his unguarded face, softer and so much younger in sleep, his enviably long lashes hiding the ever present jadedness. Fatigue pulled at her and she fought it, forcing her eyes open when they drifted shut.

"I'm not gonna fall in love with you, Beck. I'm gonna leave you in August."

She whispered the vow to a man in deep sleep. To a room cast in shadow. To a house steeped in tradition. To a woman mired in denial.

Sleep took her quickly, quicker than she wanted, and with it came the mocking sound of her surely spoken promise, echoing in her dreams like a school yard taunt. — Jodi Watters

In some ways you are as sentimental as Richard,' she said. 'But you could kill us, all of us, even Stephen's brother, and feel nothing.'
I met her honey brown eyes and said, 'I'd feel something.'
'What?' she asked.
'Safer,' I said. — Laurell K. Hamilton

It seems only fair," Matthew continued. "A bit of karma, if you will." He twirled the stake again. "Shall we see how long you scream?"
"Are you ever going to shut up?" I snapped, fear and irritation filling me in equal measures. "This isn't your monologue, Hamlet. It's the battle scene, in case you've forgotten."
His eyes narrowed so fast they nearly sparked. They were the color of honey on fire. One of the others growled like an animal, low in his throat. It made all the hairs on my arms stand straight up.
I was going to die for making fun of Shakespeare.
My English Lit professor would be so proud. — Alyxandra Harvey

You see, the glamour girl standing before you was not the dame I first laid eyes on in Penn Station. In fact, at first I thought she was the charwoman. Don't you remember how frightful you looked that night, Honey Pie?" Sam patted Evie's hand. Her strained smile pleased him. "She was sooty and grimy. Had on her mother's dress and those thick woolen stockings that grandmas and war orphans wear. And one of her teeth was missing. Ghastly. But I was smitten."
"Oh, Daddy, you might need a visit to the dentist soon yourself." Evie laughed and tightened her grip on Sam's hand. — Libba Bray

Lo- don't move," he says, seriously, his eyes like honey in the basement light- warm and amber and shining. "i'm still working."
"I had an itch."
"Let me know next time, and I'll scratch it for you. Before the terrible itching incident ruined everything, I was about to start on the dark shadow of your elbow crease. Now I'll have to re-create that perfect, dark, little cityscape from memory. — Kate Ellison

I can't wear a man's jacket with a ball gown. She rolls her eyes at him, sighs. But thanks, honey. — Kathryn Stockett

Baby don't do this." He whispered the words. Why did he thought if she cried she'd feel better? It was too much, too much sorrow for her. He pulled her beneath him, lying over her, somehow trying with his body to protect her from the ggrief.
She came awake, her eyes wide, black. Swimming with tears. "Nicholas? What is it?" He touched his face, the lines of worry there.
"You're crying, honey. I thought it would be good for you to cry, but not like this, not in your sleep where I can't share it with you."
"I can't be crying." Dahlia wiped at the tears on her face with a kind of horror. "I never cry."
"You are crying."
"I can't stop." She looked desperate. "Make me stop, Nicholas, Make it stop. — Christine Feehan

But mostly I remember every morning before school. How she'd say "Hey, honey!" just I was walking out the apartment door. And me stopping and turning around and saying "What?" And her saying "I love you." And me rolling my eyes like I just wanted to hurry up so I didn't miss the bus. I'd start going again and she'd say "Hey, honey!" and I'd pretend I was so annoyed 'cause she was wasting time and I had to go catch the bus. And how secretly it was my favorite part of every day. — Matt De La Pena

But what do I love, when I love You? Not beauty of bodies, nor the fair harmony of time. Not the brightness of the light, so welcome to our eyes, Nor sweet melodies of varied songs, Nor the fragrant smell of flowers, and ointments and spices. Not manna and honey, nor the embrace of arms in fleshly pleasure. None of these I love when I love my God. Yet this love is a kind of light and melody and fragrance and meat and embrace. When I love my God, the light, melody, fragrance, meat, and embrace is experienced by my inner man. Love shines into my soul, where space cannot contain it. Love speaks with sound that does not fade into silence with time. Its smells are not dispersed in breath, and its tastes do not grow stale. Love clings, and its satisfaction does not break my connection to the experience. This is it which I love, when I love my God. — Augustine Of Hippo

Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drank the milk of Paradise. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Gracious your form and your eyes as honey : desire is poured upon your lovely face Aphrodite has honored you exceedingly ... — Sappho

That's my girl," he murmured.
"I'm not your girl."
"Well," he said not bothering to hide his smile from her sightless eyes, "the good news is that the honey gave you back your sparkling personality."
"And the bad news?"
"The honey gave you back your sparkling personality. — Larissa Ione

They peered at him with their shining honey warm molasses-brown eyes. Their smiles, the white smiles pinned to their faces, were wide as all of summer. — Ray Bradbury

She tried to offer Ella help but was shooed back into her seat between Magnus and Irini. She watched incredulously at the amount of food these males piled onto their plates. She hadn't touched her own plate yet, her eyes jumping from Lucien to Ryder, to Aidan, to Magnus, as they scoffed large amounts of beef down. Irini giggled beside her before elbowing her to get her to stop staring and start eating.
Ella laughed, obviously having noticed and understood the reason behind Caia's wide eyes. "Don't mind them, honey. They're just animals. You'll get used to them."
Ryder choked in amusement as he took swig of water, and Aidan and Magnus joined his laughter.
Lucien merely shrugged. "What?"
This set them off again.
"Dude, we've frightened Caia with our non-existent manners," Aidan explained smiling at her.
"No, no-" she tried to protest.
Lucien frowned. "We're just eating."
"Caia's not used to eating at the watering hole. — Samantha Young

Before that, before it was ever a hotel at all, five full centuries ago, it was the home of a wealthy privateer who gave up raiding ships to study bees in the pastures outside Saint-Malo, scribbling in notebooks and eating honey straight from combs. The crests above the door lintels still have bumblebees carved into the oak; the ivy-covered fountain in the courtyard is shaped like a hive. Werner's favorites are five faded frescoes on the ceilings of the grandest upper rooms, where bees as big as children float against blue backdrops, big lazy drones and workers with diaphanous wings - where, above a hexagonal bathtub, a single nine-foot-long queen, with multiple eyes and a golden-furred abdomen, curls across the ceiling. — Anthony Doerr

Flat muscled and honey coloured. Sea secrets in his eyes. A silver raindrop in his ear. — Arundhati Roy

Louie's mother, Louise, took a different tack. Louie was a copy of herself, right down to the vivid blue eyes. When pushed, she shoved; sold a bad cut of meat, she'd march down to the butcher, frying pan in hand. Loving mischief, she spread icing over a cardboard box and presented it as a birthday cake to a neighbor, who promptly got the knife stuck. When Pete told her he'd drink his castor oil if she gave him an empty candy box. "You only asked for the box, honey," she said with a smile. "That's all I got." And she understood Louie's restiveness. One Halloween, she dressed as a boy and raced around town trick-or-treating with Louie and Pete. A gang of kids, thinking she was one of the local toughs, tackled her and tried to steal her pants. Little Louise Zamperini, mother of four, was deep in the melee when the cops picked her up for brawling. — Laura Hillenbrand

Being daily swallowed by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June. Heard, not regarded. — William Shakespeare

His eyes are the color of honey. These are the eyes I remember from my dreams. — Lauren Oliver

Tyler rounded the hood and opened the door. 'What?' he asked when she grinned at him. 'You've got a slide-over-here-honey seat!' His eyes crinkled with laughter. 'Well, what are you doing all the way over there? — C.H. Admirand

I hear her slip into bed with him, and I hear everything that happens after that. Sex is such a strange and sloppy business, why bother to recount every slurp and moan that ensued? Tom and Honey deserve their privacy, and for that reason I will end my report of the night's activities here. If some readers object, I ask them to close their eyes and use their imaginations. — Paul Auster

Her honey-coloured hair fell in heavy wavesbelow her shoulders and as she stared up at him her eyes, clear, speckled amber, seemed to tilt at the corners; her brows were black and swept up in arcs, and she had thick black lashesh. There was about her a kind of warm luxuriance, something immediately suggestive to the men of pleasurable fulfillment- something for which she was not responsible but of which she was acutely conscious. — Kathleen Winsor

Baby," he told me, his eyes lidded and dark, "you always taste like honey buns. — Shelly Crane

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

Sorry I was bitchy," I managed to say.
"You had cause, honey."
"My mother's awful."
"Yeah." He wiggled my toes individually. His voice was steam-blended and soft. "That advice she gave you was crap, by the way."
"You heard that? Oh, God."
"You should give me everything I want," Jack informed me. "You should spoil me rotten. And it's too late to play dumb, and you're cute as hell without makeup."
I smiled, my eyes still closed. "What about my glasses?"
"Definite turn-on."
"Everything's a turn-on for you," I said languidly.
"Not everything." Laughter thickened his voice.
"Yes. You're like one of those pharmaceutical commercials where they warn about four-hour erections. You need to go see your doctor."
"I don't find him all that attractive. — Lisa Kleypas

my dreams, my works, must wait till after hell

I hold my honey and I store my bread
In little jars and cabinets of my will.
I label clearly, and each latch and lid
I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can tell when I may dine again.
No man can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love. — Gwendolyn Brooks

He looked at me and I couldn't read his face or his scent. "I talked to Samuel earlier. He's sorry to have missed the excitement, but he's at home now. If Fideal follows you home, he'll have Samuel to contend with." He waved his hand around. "And there are plenty of us here to come to your aid."
"Are you sending me home?" Was I flirting? Damn it, I was.
He smiled, first with his eyes and then his lips, just a little, just enough to turn his face into something that made my pulse pick up. "You can stay if you'd like," he said, flirting right back. Then, a wicked light gleaming in his eyes, he went one step too far. "But I think there are too many people around for what I'd like you to stay for."
I dodged around Honey's husband and out the door, the flip-flops making little snapping sounds that didn't cover up Adam's final comment. "I like your tattoo, Mercy."
I made sure that my shoulders were stiff as I walked away. He couldn't see the grin on my face . . . — Patricia Briggs

He had green eyes. And skin the color of sunshine through honey. — Rainbow Rowell

His lips thinned in frustration like I should already know the answer. He inched closer until his knee touched mine, his eyes, curious and intense, boring into me. "Because you move like fire rushing across a floor," he said his voice hushed, velvety smooth, "like flames licking up a wall." The rest of the world crumbled away as he lifted my chin. "Your energy is liquid and hot. Even from a distance you burn, you scorch anyone who gets too close. You are wine on my tongue and honey in my veins, and I cannot get enough of you." He leaned forward and whispered into my ear. His warm breath sent shivers cascading over my body. "You intoxicate me, Lorelei McAlister. You will be my downfall. — Darynda Jones

His hand grazed her inner thigh as he shifted the manual transmission into reverse, and this lightest of touches sent a shiver through Devin. "Cold?" he asked, backing the pickup away from the trees to turn around. "You can turn on the heat if you'd like."

Devin shook her head. "I'm fine," she said in a quiet, breathy voice that she couldn't quite control.

The tone caught Ronin's attention, and he gave her a long look before shifting back into first gear. Again, his fingertips grazed her soft skin, and her breath caught again.

Ronin's eyes fell shut for a moment. "Damn, honey," he whispered. — Sibylla Matilde

I got my eyes to the prize, honey. — Kristen Ashley

I love you, Bud," he whispered to Billy and two more tears escaped.
"I love you too, Mitch," Billy whispered back, my breath hitched and both males' eyes came to me.
I waved my wineglass at them and murmured, "Don't mind me. Have your moment."
Mitch leaned back, letting Billy go and grinning at me. "Men don't have moments."
"You do," I returned. "I'm witnessing one."
"This isn't a moment, honey, it's a meeting of the minds," Mitch contradicted me. — Kristen Ashley

But this time as soon as he moved she began to fade. He stopped at once, not breathing again, motionless, willing his eyes to see that she had stopped too. But she had not stopped. She was fading, going. "Wait," he said, talking as sweet as he had ever heard his voice speak to a woman: "Den lemme go wid you, honey." But she was going. — William Faulkner

But what do I love when I love you? Not the beauty of any body or the rhythm of time in its movement; not the radiance of light, so dear to our eyes; not the sweet melodies in the world of manifold sounds; not the perfume of flowers, ointments and spices; not manna and not honey; not the limbs so delightful to the body's embrace: it is none of these things that I love when I love my God. And yet when I love my God I do indeed love a light and a sound and a perfume and a food and an embrace - a light and sound and perfume and food and embrace in my inward self. There my soul is flooded with a radiance which no space can contain; there a music sounds which time never bears away; there I smell a perfume which no wind disperses; there I taste a food that no surfeit embitters; there is an embrace which no satiety severs. It is this that I love when I love my God. (Confessions 10.6.8) — Timothy J. Keller

Baby, I'll never leave you. I promise ..." Matt tried to talk, but Crystal May
shushed him, laying a finger across his lips. She looked at him, her blue eyes wet with tears and shining like priceless diamonds. "I love you, Matt. I want to live with you and work with you and feel your babies growing inside of me. I want you to laugh with me and cry with me and discipline me whenever you feel like it's right. And honey, you best believe I want to marry you. But first there's something I have to do for myself. — Carol Storm

The law of the LORD is perfect, [3] reviving the soul; the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple; 8 the precepts of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes; 9 the fear of the LORD is clean, enduring forever; the rules [4] of the LORD are true, and righteous altogether. 10 More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb. 11 Moreover, by them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward. — Anonymous

A smile bloomed again in his eyes. "I love that you let me bring out that softness in you. You've always been such a tough little trooper, but under that snappy, tough act you put on, you're butter-soft. Sweet as honey. And I can get there! Make that softness come up. I'm so ... honored by it — Ramona Wray

Wehehehehell, if it isn't Ollie-Ollie-oxidant-free ... "
You can take ... all the tea in China ... put it in a big brown ... bag for me.
He's as sweet as tupelo honey; he's an angel of the first degree.
Men with insight ... men in granite ... knights in armor bent on ... chivalry.
He's as sweet as ... tupelo honey; just like honey, baby ... from the bee."
=> For those who read and liked "When Irish eyes are sparkling"
Can i have a musician here? — Tom Collins

Get off me, baby, gotta shower." I rolled off but he rolled right on top of me. "I thought you had to shower," I asked when I caught his eyes. He held my gaze for a moment and I couldn't read his face before his head dipped and I felt his nose tweak my ear. "I'm sorry I was a dick," he whispered there. There it was. That was all he had to do and I knew at that moment there would be times when he'd be a jerk and that was all he'd ever have to do. My arms slid around him. "Honey," I whispered back. He gave my shoulder a bristly kiss and then he was gone. — Kristen Ashley

Are you saying ... I was your icebreaker?"
Those honey-colored eyes darkened with concern. "Tell me that's okay with you. I know your emotions weren't involved, but still, nobody likes to think they've been taken advantage of."
He unclenched his teeth. "And that's what you did? You took advantage of me?"
"I wasn't, you know, picturing him in my mind last night when I was with you or anything. Well, maybe for a couple of seconds, but that's all, I swear. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

I'm very expressive.
i deserve to feel pretty.
i kissed the blarney stone.
i am strong. i am brave.
im a good friend. I'm a good sister. I'm a good wife. i am a good in-law. I'm a good daughter. i am a good niece. I'm a good beagle mother. i am a good granddaughter.
i work hard for it, honey.
im superfly TNT motherfucker.
im a pilot of the airwaves.
im a better third baseman that brooks robinson.
I B-E-A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E.
i have exceptionally beautiful feet, eyes, ears, hips, hair, teeth, breasts. and shoulders. and fingernails. in a different pen, she added, and eyelashes and eyebrows, plus in yet another pen, and nose. and chin. — Rob Sheffield

Galadir went to meet Morwen, across the lawn. Under sunlight, the Prince was extraordinarily beautiful. His skin was smooth and almost golden. And his eyes ... It was as if they had absorbed the light rays. They were pure honey. — Chiara Cilli

My wings," the faerie whispered.
"You'll get them back."
The Faerie struggled to open his eyes. "You swear?"
"Yes," I breathed. The faerie managed a slight smile and closed his eyes again. My mouth trembled. I wished for something else to say, something more to offer him than my empty promises. The first false vow I'd ever sworn. But Tamlin began speaking, and I glanced up to see him take the faerie's other hand.
"Cauldron save you," he said, reciting the words of a prayer that was probably older than the moral realm. "Mother hold you. Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain." Tamlin's voice wavered, but he finished. "Go, and enter eternity. — Sarah J. Maas

She was one of those languid women, made of dark honey, smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture, a toss of the hair, a single slow whiplash of the eyes - and all the while remain as still as the centre of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract themselves the yearnings and the souls of both men and women. — Patrick Suskind

I did not need to see that ... I mean I really did not need to see that. Jenna, honey, grab one of my daggers and poke out both my eyes. — Dianne Duvall

Quite without warning, I began to cry. No sobbing, no throat-gripping spasms. Water simply welled in my eyes and flowed down my cheeks, slow as cold honey. A quiet acknowledgment of despair as things spiraled slowly out of control. — Diana Gabaldon

So,like,what if she wakes up one night with an uncontrollable need to hook up with me?"
When my mom had wiped the tears from her eyes and caught her breath from laughing,she patted my face the way you pet an animal that you might find pathetic but in a cute kind of way.
"Sterling,honey?I'm almost positive you won't have that problem. — G.L. Tomas

The Priestess
Her skin was pale, and her eyes were dark, and her hair was dyed black. She went on a daytime talk show and proclaimed herself a vampire queen. She showed the cameras her dentally crafted fangs, and brought on ex-lovers who, in various stages of embarrassment, admitted that she had drawn their blood, and that she drank it.
"You can be seen in a mirror, though?" asked the talk show hostess. She was the richest woman in America, and had got that way by bringing the freaks and the hurt and the lost out in front of her cameras and showing their pain to the world.
The studio audience laughed.
The woman seemed slightly affronted. "Yes. Contrary to what people may think, vampires can be seen in mirrors and on television cameras."
"Well, that's one thing you finally got right, honey," said the hostess of the daytime talk show. But she put her hand over her microphone as she said it, and it was never broadcast. — Neil Gaiman

Kiss me, Tate," I demanded softly.
"Baby -"
I lifted my head and put my lips to his, encouraging on a whisper, "I wanna catch fire, honey, and only you can bring that out for me."
I watched up close as Tate's eyes went intense then his head slanted and he muttered, "You got it, Ace."
Then he kissed me. — Kristen Ashley

A very beautiful honey blonde, Sharon Tate, looked into the eyes of the man who the evidence shows just four and a half months later would order her tragic and violent death. — Vincent Bugliosi

His hand slid up my spine, bringing me closer, pinning my hands between us as I watched his neck bend.
I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
"Max," I warned, my body bracing.
"Quiet," he ordered softly. "Got a point to make, honey."
"Max!" I snapped.
"Let's see how good this could be," he muttered, his eyes on my mouth and I knew, I just knew, he was going to kiss me.
"Max, don't you-"
But his fingers had sifted into my hair against my scalp cupping my head, holding me steady and his mouth came down on mine, cutting off my words. — Kristen Ashley

Annabel was, like the writer, of mixed parentage: half-English, half-Dutch, in her case. I remember her features far less distinctly today than I did a few years ago, before I knew Lolita. There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your eyes open (and then I see Annabel in such general terms as: "honey-colored skin," "thin arms," "brown bobbed hair," "long lashes," "big bright mouth"); and the other when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes, on the dark innerside of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors (and this is how I see Lolita). — Vladimir Nabokov

Knowing that it is the earth that we tread, we learn to tread carefully, lest it be rent open. Realizing that it is the heavens that hang above us, we come to fear the echoing thunderbolt. The world demands that we battle with others for the sake of our own reputation, and so we undergo the sufferings bred of illusion. While we live in this world with its daily business, forced to walk the tightrope of profit and loss, true love is an empty thing, and the wealth before our eyes mere dust. The reputation we grasp at, the glory that we seize, is surely like the honey that the cunning bee will seem sweetly to brew only to leave his sting within it as he flies. What we call pleasure in fact contains all suffering, since it arises from attachment. Only thanks to the existence of the poet and the painter are we able to imbibe the essence of this dualistic world, to taste the purity of its very bones and marrow. — Soseki Natsume

Babe, best wool men ever pulled was lettin' women think we think with our dicks. We pay a fuckuva lot of attention. We know your shit maybe more than you do because we live it right along with you and some of you try to make us eat it. It's just that some of us choose not to get sucked in the drama and instead focus on getting laid regularly."
I felt my eyes get big right before I wrapped my arms around him and started giggling, but I managed to push through my giggles, "Honey, not sure you should share the brotherhood's secrets."
"You talk, no woman will listen. They prefer to think a man's brain is in his dick. Gives 'em something to bitch about. — Kristen Ashley

Honey, I have a feeling he doesn't think of you as a friend. Have you seen the way he looks at you?"
She glanced at him and as if he could feel her gaze, he turned his eyes on her. Soft and hard all at once. "Yeah," Mel said. "He promised to stop doing that. — Robyn Carr

His gaze was heat across her cheeks, her lips. It was touch. His eyes were hypnotic, his brows black and velvet. He was copper and shadow, honey and menace, the severity of knife-blade cheekbones and a widow's peak like the point of a dagger. — Laini Taylor

I don't like how you smell like honey and cotton candy. I dislike your blue eyes that I don't get lost in. I really dislike the seventeen freckles on your face [ ... ] I haven't thought about you every day since we met that one night[ ... ] In your eyes I don't see the missing pieces I've been searching for. And I know this isn't crazy ... but I thing I hate you, Andie. — Brittainy C. Cherry

You're safe, Lauren," he murmured and my eyes came back to his.
"You weren't safe with him but, honey, swear to God, you're safe with me. — Kristen Ashley

You gonna order me to kiss you so I can get all tingly or are you just gonna stare at me?"
He knew his smile hit his eyes when he muttered, "Kiss me, honey. — Kristen Ashley

She waited for him to go on, but he simply gaped at her, lost for words.
"Doc Grey, do you want me?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"Vera, I..." He stopped abruptly. "I..."...
"I asked you a question." The words came out breathier than she'd intended. She stepped closer, until their bodies were less than an inch apart, and stared up into his gorgeous, honey-brown eyes. He met her gaze, and she saw a spark behind his irises that could only be described with one word: desire. — Kait Ballenger