Lashes And Brows Quotes & Sayings

His brows were lowered in concentration. Thick, sooty lashes hid his eyes.
They lifted and his lips spread into a grin.
I was in so much trouble. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I'm a low maintenance girl. I try to do very little when I don't have to. I find that if I have regular 'maintenance' treatments, I can be ready to go out in 5 minutes. I get my hair coloured, have regular massages, and love getting my lashes tinted and my brows shaped. Plus heaps of exercise, and as much sleep as possible. That way when I'm going out all I have to do is slick on some gloss, and a bit of blush and I am ready to go! Of course the LA sun helps too. — Cat Deeley

Dark, that's the word. Dark hair strategically styled in at least a dozen conflicting directions. Dark brows and lashes, dark stubble, and hazel eyes pinning me with a piercing dark look. — Jewel E. Ann

JACKSON'S DARK BROWN HAIR curled up on his shirt collar. Black lashes and heavy brows framed his blue eyes. A few crow's-feet around his eyes were the only sign that he'd just passed his fortieth birthday and they were minimized in the dim restaurant lights. His jeans were creased and stacked up over his highly polished black boots just the right way. Waitresses stopped what they were doing and gazed at him over their shoulders as he passed. Their — Carolyn Brown

Her hair, the brightest shade of red he had ever seen, seemed to feed on the firelight, glowing with incandescent heat. The slender wings of her brows and the heavy fringe of her lashes were a darker shade of auburn, while her skin was that of a true redhead, fair and a bit freckled on the nose and cheeks. Sebastian was amused by the festive scattering of little gold flecks, sprinkled as if by the whim of a friendly fairy. She had unfashionably full lips that were colored a natural rose, and large, round blue eyes... pretty but emotionless eyes, like those of a wax doll. — Lisa Kleypas

God actually delights in exalting our inability. He intentionally puts his people in situations where they come face to face with their need for him. — David Platt

It was about killing us. All of us. — Rick Yancey

Knowledge is a weight added to conscience. — Victor Hugo

Her eyes slid to Daniel. His fingers did a fast hunt-and-peck across the keyboard as his brows furrowed. The glow of the screen lit his face in the inadequately lit room. He had a nice profile. Long dark lashes that swept up and down as he typed, the perfect sized nose, a strong jaw, freshly shaven. His lips were nice too. Gently rounded peaks, set far apart. His lower lip was generous. Good kissing lips. He pursed them now. Jade jerked her eyes away. What are you doing, Jade? That's Daniel. She'd never noticed his nose or his long lashes, to say nothing of his lips - or had thoughts of kissing them. It was the hormones. They were doing weird things to her. Making her think crazy thoughts. Thoughts — Denise Hunter

Did you hear about the recently discovered temple in the Sudan ?"
I stared at him. "Yeah. I'm a regular reader of National Geographic."
Ol' Frankie's brows quirked. "You wield sarcasm, madam, as well as a master swordsman does."
"Gee, thanks." I smiled at him and batted my lashes.
Quit flirting . Patrick flicked the command into my head. He sounded half-annoyed, half-amused.
I'm not flirting.
Quit being cute and likeable.
An impossible request. I've always been too adorable for words. — Michele Bardsley

The third dimension is that the rebel is not interested in domination over others. He has no lust for power, because that is the ugliest thing in the world. The lust for power has destroyed humanity and has not allowed it to be more creative, to be more beautiful, to be more healthy, to be more wholesome. And it is this lust for power that ultimately leads to conflicts, competitions, jealousies, and finally to wars. Lust for power is the foundation of all wars. If you look at human history, the whole of it is nothing but a history of wars, man killing man. Reasons have changed, but the killing continues. — Osho

The closer the genetic relationship of the family members, as for example father-to-son, as opposed to uncle-to-nephew, the higher the degree of cooperation. — E. O. Wilson

She could have been a figure in a Welsh fairy tale, a nymph who had formed from the mist off a lake. There was something otherworldly about the delicacy of her porcelain skin, and the arresting contrast between her dark lashes and brows and her silver-blond hair. And those eyes, cool translucence contained in dark rims. — Lisa Kleypas

At present, financial crises occur, chiefly because the paper currency is redeemable in gold only. — John Buchanan Robinson

When a man marries he takes a bigger risk than the woman, because she can march out with his kids, his money,
his home, and his dog. — Laura Schlessinger

Worry is really just a form of atheism. Every time you worry, you're acting like an atheist. You're saying, "It all depends on me." That's just not in the Bible. — Rick Warren

Don't leave a man behind - especially not me. It's — Hugh Howey

I don't want to sound like a Hallmark card, but to be able to wake up each day with food and shelter, that alone is good. Forget aging and the fact that my butt is becoming a little more familiar with my knees than my tailbone. If you are six feet above ground it's a good day. So, give me more! — Faith Hill

I've always wanted to win in my hometown. — Paula Creamer

Scarlet O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply blended the delicate features of her mother, a Coast aristocrat of French descent, and the heavy ones of her florid Irish father. But it was an arresting face, pointed of chin, square of jaw. Her eyes were pale green without a touch of hazel, starred with bristly black lashes and slightly tilted at the ends. Above them, her thick black brows slanted upward, cutting a startling oblique line in her magnolia-white skin-that skin so prized by Southern women and so carefully guarded with bonnets, veils and mittens against hot Georgia suns. — Margaret Mitchell