Lost In Her Eyes Quotes & Sayings

Do you often make meals for outlanders, Miss Click?" There was teasing in his tone and in his astonishing eyes. Scarlet, she looked down at her apron, now soiled by three spots of coffee, a bit lost in the richness of his speech. "You've yet tae call me Doctor, which I dinna mind in the least. But it tells me you are questioning my credentials. And those eyes of yours demand I must somehow prove myself, pass a test. Like your faither did when he ran the Shawnee gauntlet." "You read that in the papers, I reckon." "Aye. Is it true?" She nodded. "He carried the scars to his grave." "So he passed the test. Will I? — Laura Frantz

She has her eyes closed, looking lost to the song and completely oblivious to what's happening around her, or at how she's affecting everyone in the room. I wonder if she's aware of how amazing she is? — A.R. Von

Only cowards and the broken in spirit surrendered the future as payment for the past. Love was the great and beautiful wonder - but surely one should not stay with it in the place where it found one. Why, loving should light the way! Far from engulfing all the rest of life it seemed now that love should open life to one. Whether one kept it or whether one lost it, it failed if it did not send one farther along the way. She had been afraid to think of her love changing because that had seemed to grant that it had failed. But now it seemed that it failed if it did not leave her bigger than it had found her. Her eyes filled in response to the stern beauty of that. Not that one should stay with love in the same place, but rather the meaning of it all was in just this: that it should send one on. — Susan Glaspell

Her eyes were so big and bright, as if they saw more than they could comprehend. Bright with terror, and beneath the terror a limitless confusion. That's what made them so beautifully bright. You have to be crazy to see things so lucidly, so all at once. If you're great you can stay that way and people will believe in you, swear by you, turn the world upside down for you. But if you're only partly great, or just a nobody, then what happens to you is lost. — Henry Miller

Nick continued, unable to keep the smug smile form his lips. "Shall I tell you what I would do if I discovered I'd been a royal ass and had lost the only woman I'd ever really wanted?"
Ralston's eyes narrowed on his brother. "I don't imagine I could stop you."
Indeed not," Nick said, "I can tell you I wouldn't be standing in this godforsaken field in this godforsaken cold waiting for that idiot Oxford to shoot at me. I would walk away from this ridiculous, antiquated exercise, and I would find that womand tell her that I was a royal ass. And then I would do whatever it takes to convince her that she should take a chance on me despite my being a royal ass. And once that's done, I would get her, immediatley, to the nearest vicar and get the girl married. And with child. — Sarah MacLean

The sensation felt like spinning too fast on a merry-go-round. Each fraction of a second her eyes focused on a new face in a crowd. Within seconds the face was gone, whisked to a blur, replaced by another face that would just as soon be lost. — Heidi Julavits

In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corners of my room; I find her not.
My house is small and what once has gone from it can never be regained.
But infinite is thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have to come to thy door.
I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening sky and I lift my eager eyes to thy face.
I have come to the brink of eternity from which nothing can vanish
no hope, no happiness, no vision of a face seen through tears.
Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean, plunge it into the deepest fullness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in the allness of the universe — Rabindranath Tagore

Again she did not seem to hear, still looking into Cale's eyes. Then slowly, hopelessly, she dropped her gaze.
"I understand," she said.
It was that, of course, that pierced him as if she had stabbed him through the heart. To him it was the sound of lost faith and it was unendurable. He felt he'd become a kind of god in her eyes, and it was simply impossible to give up her adoration. — Paul Hoffman

To douchebags!" he said, gesturing to Brad. "And to girls that break your heart," he bowed his head to me. His eyes lost focus. "And to the absolute fucking horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in love with her. — Jamie McGuire

She preferred having her eyes lost in the night sky wondering about the stars, the universe and the creator. — Pierre Alex Jeanty

The sword in her right hand appeared quiet and, in a split second, she pierced his chest from side to side. Her eyes were different, darker, with black scales. A gush of blood came from the mouth of Andrer, which looked at her. She could not decipher his expression. The sword dissolved and the boy fell to the ground. Morwen knelt beside him.
They lost blood. The bond was broken. — Chiara Cilli

Have you been having fun, Eliza?" Gloria asked. "She's danced every dance," Hamilton said before Eliza could respond. "How wonderful," Gloria exclaimed. "See, I told you there was no reason for your earlier distress." "You were distressed?" Mr. Murdock inquired as he leaned forward over Agatha. "It was only a little case of nerves," Eliza returned, her eyes widening when Hamilton absently traced a finger down her arm. The action was not lost on Mr. Murdock. He sat back in his seat and turned his head to address the guest on his left. "What are you doing?" Eliza hissed. "If you're not careful, everyone will believe there's soon to be an announcement." "That would bother you?" And just what did he mean by that? She took a deep breath and slowly released it. "You've obviously lost your mind." Hamilton sent her a wicked smile and refused to say another word, although he did remove his finger from her skin. — Jen Turano

Despite the way she rallied, the haunted look in her eyes was enough to break him, as lost and lonely as an abandoned child's. — Katherine McIntyre

My lady?" He peered briefly around to see that all seemed
in order, and confusion immediately covered his face.
"Take a dozen men and ride out in search of my husband,"
Emma commanded at once. The steward goggled at her.
"But, my lady - "
"Now, Sebert. Or all will be lost."
Sebert nodded and started to withdraw, then paused and
turned back, his gaze moving helplessly to the two men by
the fireplace, before flying back to Emma herself. "But my
lady, yer husband is dead," he pointed out miserably.
Emma rolled her eyes at that. "Sebert, why can you not be
like other stewards and listen at doors?"
"I ... " Sebert drew himself up indignantly, but Emma
continued.
"Had you done so, you would be aware that I am to marry
Lord Amaury de Aneford. Immediately. Before Lord Fulk's
cousin and aunt can get here and Bertrand can lay claim to
the manor and myself. — Lynsay Sands

Shut up." She put her finger to his lips, and his voice choked off. She said slowly, "I've learned I can live without you."
Kasimir's heart cracked inside his chest. He'd lost her. She was going to send him away, back into the bleak winter.
"But I've also learned," Josie whispered, "that I don't want to." Her brown eyes were suddenly warm, like the sky after a sudden spring storm. "I tried to stop loving you. But once I love someone, I love for life." Her lips lifted in a trembling smile. "I'm stubborn that way. — Jennie Lucas

Cool wind soothed her. She could breathe sweet air. The only heat she felt was the warm, familiar heat from the mage's body. Opening her eyes, she saw that she stood close to him. Raising her head, she gazed up into his face ... and felt a swift, sharp ache in her heart.
Raistlin's thin face glistened with sweat, his eyes reflected the pure, white flame of the burning bodies, his breath came fast and shallow. He seemed lost, unaware of his surroundings. And there was a look of ecstasy on his face, a look of exultation, of triumph.
"I understand," Crysania said to herself, holding onto his hands. "I understand. This is why he cannot love me. He has only one love in this life and that is his magic. To this love he will give everything, for this love he will risk everything! — Margaret Weis

She looked up at him and her face was pale and austere in the uplight and her eyes lost in their darkly shadowed hollows save only for the glint of them and he could see her throat move in the light and he saw in her face and in her figure something he'd not seen before and the name of that thing was sorrow. — Cormac McCarthy

But Celaena had stood in front of the that wooden door to the bedroom, listening to Yrene wash her clothes in the nearby kitchen. She found herself unable to turn away, unable to stop thinking about the would-be healer with the brown-gold hair and caramel eyes, of what Yrene had lost and how helpless she'd become. There were so many of them now - the children who had lost everything to Adarlan. Children who had now grown into assassins and barmaids, without a true place to call home, their native kingdoms left to ruin and ash.
Magic had been gone all these years. And the gods were dead, or simply didn't care anymore. Yet there, deep in her gut, was a small but insistent tug. A tug on a strand of some invisible web. So Celaena decided to tug back, just to see how far and wide the reverberations would go. — Sarah J. Maas

He had always wanted Daisy, with an intensity that seemed to radiate from the pores of his skin. She was sweet, kind, inventive, excessively reasonable yet absurdly romantic, her dark sparkling eyes filled with dreams. She had occasional moments of clumsiness when her mind was too occupied with her thoughts to focus on what she was doing. She was often late to supper because she had gotten too involved in her reading. She frequently lost thimbles and slippers and pencil stubs. And she loved to stargaze. The never-forgotten sight of Daisy leaning wistfully on a balcony railing one night, her pert profile lifted to the night sky, had charged Matthew with the most blistering desire to stride over to her and kiss her senseless. — Lisa Kleypas

It drew aside the window-curtain and looked out; perhaps it saw dawn approaching, for, taking the candle, it retreated to the door. Just at my bedside, the figure stopped: the fiery eyes glared upon me-she thrust up her candle close to my face, and extinguished it under my eyes. I was aware her lurid visage flamed over mine, and I lost consciousness: for the second time in my life-only the second time-I became insensible from terror. — Charlotte Bronte

But like a gambler at a slot machine, hoping the next spin would change her life for the better, she closed in before she lost her nerve. Taking his hand, she pulled him toward her, near enough to feel his body against her. She looked up at him, tilting her head slightly as she leaned in. Mike, recognizing what was happening but still having trouble believing it, tilted his head and closed his eyes, their faces drawing near. — Nicholas Sparks

Eye on the shuttlecock, she ran forward, raised her battledore high, and slammed right into Henry Weston's chest. The wind knocked from her, Emma lost her balance and might have fallen had not Mr. Weston's arms shot out and caught her about the waist and shoulder. "Oh," she cried, embarrassed to have plowed into the man. Embarrassed to find his arms around her. Embarrassed to find she liked it. "I'm so sorry," she blurted, pushing away from him. "Don't be. I admire your singular focus. My goodness, Miss Smallwood, where is the timid little creature who flinched at every flying bird as though it were a cricket ball headed for her nose?" Emma straightened and righted her off-kilter bonnet. "I was determined not to embarrass myself," she admittedly breathlessly. "Only to do just that." He chuckled, and their eyes met in a moment of shared levity. Then he sobered. "Thank you for the laugh, Miss Smallwood. Just what I needed after yesterday. — Julie Klassen

Livia, I'm going to be okay. You have to believe it."
The nape of his neck was just inches from her lips. The only things stopping her from tasting it were red lipstick and one hundred pairs of eyes.
"I've always believed it." Livia tilted her head so she could see him.
Blake held his lips close to hers. They were lost in each other. — Debra Anastasia

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

Her steel blue eyes captivated him at first glance and along with the alluring scent of jasmine surrounding her presence, he lost all sense of time and rhythm, and barely remembered the ensuing conversation. Thinking he had died and gone to heaven, the only thing that stuck in his memory, as they found themselves pressed urgently against the wall of her hotel room, was her name; Ginny. — Virginia Alison

Choose a good vintage," Cheat said to Kestrel. "You'll know the best."
As she left the room, his eyes followed her, glittering.
She returned with a clearly labeled bottle of Valorian wine dated to the year of the Herran War. She placed it on the table in front of the two seated men. Arin's jaw set, and he shook his head slightly. Cheat lost his grin.
"This was the best," Kestrel said.
"Pour." Cheat shoved his glass toward her. She uncorked the bottle and poured--and kept pouring, even as the red wine flowed over the glass's rim, across the table, and onto Cheat's lap.
He jumped to his feet, swatting wine from his fine stolen clothes. "Damn you!"
"You said I should pour. You didn't say I should stop."
Kestrel wasn't sure what would have happened next if Arin hadn't intervened. "Cheat," he said, "I'm going to have to ask you to stop playing games with what is mine. — Marie Rutkoski

I can imagine myself in her place: trapped by a sordid past, terribly alone, defenseless before a crowd of jeering judges who hold my life in their hands. And then, when hope is lost, the one who truly has the right to condemn me looks at me. In his eyes I read something completely unexpected. Compassion. — Judah Smith

It's hard to have a serious conversation with you when you're wearin' lighted cocks on your head."
AJ defiantly thrust out her chin and the penises bobbled. "We aren't having a conversation. You're give me tough-guy attitude. If you won't acknowledge me in public, you don't have the right to chastise me for anything I do in public or in private. And now you lost the right to do anything to me in private either, bucko."
"Quit bein' so goddamm childish."
Her eyes narrowed to silver slits. "Quit bein' such a goddamn dickhead."
"You're the one with dicks on your head, baby doll."
"Yeah? I can take mine off any old time I please, but you wear your dickhead like a second skin. Or should I say as a second foreskin? — Lorelei James

[T.J.] Without thinking, I held them out to her. She stopped laughing, and looked at me like she wasn't quite sure what I meant. I waited, and she leaned toward me and opened her mouth. I slid my fingers inside, wondering if my eyes were as big as hers. When she sucked the breadfruit off, my breathing got all messed up.
"More?"
She nodded, just barely, and her breathing didn't sound right either. I scooped up some breadfruit and this time, when I put my fingers in her mouth, she put her hand on my wrist.
I waited for her to swallow and then I lost my shit completely.
I grabbed her face with both hands, and I kissed her, hard. She opened her mouth and I slipped my tongue inside. I could have kissed her for days, and if she told me to stop I wasn't sure I'd be able to. — Tracey Garvis-Graves

Then Christian made the fatal mistake of looking into her eyes. Suddenly he couldn't move a muscle. They smoldered with a terrible black anger even as her mouth returned his kiss. It was as if they were two separate beings, the sweetness of her mouth upon his, and the darkness of her terrible eyes draining the life out of him. Christian could feel her heart racing, the fury of her blood uncontrollable, and he knew that if she couldn't rein it in somehow, he would be lost. Already his hunger eviscerated him, he could feel the holes in his gut as those eyes, so blackly terrifying - hers but not hers, sucking everything from him, taking, feeding ... killing. He felt wetness on his face.
Somehow, she'd become the vampire. — Amalie Howard

Plus, I can't look at him the same since I ran into Mrs. Marino at our family reunion. It's not comforting to learn you've made out with your cousin."
"Third cousin once removed," I argued. "It's hardly incest."
"Life is like a box of chocolates, Lisa," Katie noted around a half-chewed carrot stick. "You never know what you're going to get."
Lisa narrowed her eyes, confused. "Did she just quote Forrest Gump at me?"
"It's Matt's fault," I said. "She lost a bet and now anytime his name gets mentioned, she has sixty seconds to drop a relevant movie quote."
"That's insane."
"Yup," Katie piped in, "insanity tuns in my family. Its practically gallops."
"Classic." I high-fived her. — Cecily White

Syn closed his eyes as he savored the taste of her body. He'd never made love to a woman who knew anything about him. At least nothing more than the lies he'd told her.
But Shahara had stared into the abyss of his soul and seen the monster that lurked there. And she hadn't run.
Why?
What made her able to see the man when no one else ever had? In this one moment, he would give her anything.
Even his life.
I'm lost.
Lost in a way he'd never been before. Not even with Mara. Shahara made him want to be something more than a drunken thief and a paid killer.
She made him want to be a hero...
Pulling back, he stared at her dilated eyes and saw the ragged pleasure on her face. And as he gazed at her, he realized the truth.
I'm not lost. I'm found. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

A lang, lang time ago ... " MacPhee began, ignoring St.Vincent's low groan, "there was a bonnie maid called Malvina. She was the betrothed of Oscar, the braw warrior who won her heart. Oscar bade his beloved tae wait for him while he went tae seek his fortune. But one black day Malvina received word that her lover had been killed in battle. He would lie forever in eternal rest in the faraway hills ... lost in endless slumber ... "
"God, I envy him," St. Vincent said feelingly, rubbing his own dark-circled eyes. — Lisa Kleypas

So she's not with him?"
"No."
Otho shrugged. "That's strange."
"Why?" Chaol had the sudden urge to strangle him.
"Because it looks like he's in love with her," he said, and walked away.
Chaol's eyes lost focus for a moment. Then Celaena laughed, and Dorian kept staring at her. The prince hadn't once taken his eyes off her. Dorian's expression was full of
something. Joy? Wonder? His shoulders were straight, his back erect. He looked like a man. Like a king. — Sarah J. Maas

Blank, vacant, empty eyes looked not at me but past me, and I knew my mother was lost in a memory I could never understand, nor ever be allowed to share. Some ancient sadness behind her eyes made me feel utterly helpless and alone. She wasn't my mother in that moment; she was someone else entirely, a stranger to whom my existence mattered not at all. My — Kate Mulgrew

The Greeks described her eyes as 'oxlike'. Believe it or not, that was a compliment. It meant she had large, soft brown eyes that you could get lost in. I guess the Greeks spent a lot of time staring at oxen. — Rick Riordan

I could have listed maybe fifty possible reactions without coming close to the one I got. Her eyes dulled and her narrow nostrils flared wide and her mouth fell into sickness. She lost her posture and stood in an ugly way. — John D. MacDonald

What are you doing?"
"What I've wanted to do for a long time."
She couldn't move, couldn't think. She was lost in his dark eyes, and as he slowly lowered his head toward hers, she whispered, "Are you going to throttle me, then?"
He was laughing when he kissed her. — Julie Garwood

I saw Jake in the hallway at school. I pretended not to notice him.

I saw Rachel, too. She had a dark look in her eyes. Like she hadn't slept. Like something was really wrong.

Even Cassie seemed grim. It had gotten to all of us. It's not so easy to just forget terror. It's not easy to just ignore the memory of your leg being ripped off. Of being dismembered. Torn apart.

One of these days, I thought, one of us is going to go crazy. Totally lock-me-up-in-a-rubber-room nutso. It was too much. This wasn't how life was supposed to be.

One of us would snap. One of us would lost it. It could happen, even to strong people.

-Animorphs #5, The Predator page 52 — K.A. Applegate

He was lost in her eyes as the two pulled together like magnets. — Staci Hart

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

She leaned forward, looking utterly inhuman, and I fought the urge to run screaming from the throne room. "I have heard of your exploits, Meghan Chase, " the queen rasped, narrowing her eyes. "Did you not think I would find out? You tricked a prince of the Unseelie Court into following you into the Iron Realm. You made him fight your enemies for you. You bound him to a contract that nearly killed him. My precious boy, almost lost to me forever, because of you. How do you think that makes me feel?" Mab's smile grew more predatory, as my stomach twisted in fear. — Julie Kagawa

People's eyes are blobs of jelly. That's what the medic told me one I'd lost my right eye. But her eyes? Her eyes were limitless, like the night sky. Her gaze dissolved into space, as though all human experience could be found in her glassy eyes. I — Fran Seen

I realized this morning that there's no one to give me away." Rhys lowered his face until their foreheads were touching, and he was lost in the moonstone glow of her eyes. "Heart of my heart, you need no man to give you away. Just come to me of your own free will. Love me for who I am . . . just as I love you for who you are . . . and our bond will last until the stars lose their shining." "I can do that," Helen whispered. — Lisa Kleypas

So many times during the day, Helen had seen a dark presence take hold of the prince, as though he was haunted by some dire purpose or secret too terrible to bear. As she stared up into his almond eyes, she saw it again, this time recognizing the darkness for what it was: the same abandonment she felt ripping her heart in pieces. — Aria Cunningham

When she first saw him, she took him for a ghost. His jet-black hair fluttered in the breeze as he walked, letting her see his eyes. They seemed haunted, lost in some way. He was tall and gaunt, starkly pale in his black clothes. He was the very picture of Anton, even sharing his world-weary eyes of deepest blue. She could hardly look away from this apparition, an echo of all the memories and dreams that had haunted her these many years. — Amanda M. Lyons

When I saw him three months later, he was still despondent. "I feel as if a part of my body is missing. I feel as if I have been dismembered," he told me. His voice cracked and his eyes were rimmed red. He had one great solace, however: that she hadn't suffered, that she'd got to spend her last few weeks in peace at home in the warmth of their long love, instead of up on a nursing floor, a lost and disoriented patient. * — Atul Gawande

One of the pluses of chemotherapy, she tells the volunteers, is that all her facial and body hair has gone. It's like a permanent Brazilian for free, she says. One of the minuses of chemotherapy is that all the stuff on top of her head has gone too. ("What is a Brazilian?" Sister Lucy asked the other day. Finty gulped and looked for help, but the Pearly King was studying a parcel and Barbara had lost one of her glass eyes again in her lap. "It's a sort of haircut," said Finty. "Quite short.") — Rachel Joyce

Still half asleep and groggy, Kat squinted up through the shadows of the tiny space and into Hale's eyes. It was the closest they'd been in weeks. Whatever had stood between them was lost in the shadows, and Kat felt Hale's mouth press against hers. His fingers wove into her hair, holding her close, gripping her tightly. It was the hungriest kiss she'd ever known, and Kat let herself get lost in it. Forget. Tell herself that there was nothing they couldn't do as long as they were together.
But, then again, they were currently trapped in a closet on the thirty-seventh floor of a well-secured high-rise in the middle of the night, so perhaps her judgment was lacking.
"Sorry," Hale said, breaking the kiss and pulling away. — Ally Carter

It was a warm summer night of a kiss at first. Gentle. Romanic. It matched the dreaminess he'd seen in her eyes when she talked about lovers bathed in starlight.

She couldn't know what she did to him when she had peered up at him, a mixture of sweet innocence and curious desire all at once. He had waged a war within himself. He should leave, he'd thought. If nothing else in his life remained true, he was a gentleman. And gentlemen did not ravish young innocents in their guardian's library.
But when her milky skin flushed pink, he'd lost the battle. Even their talk of consequences had done nothing to tamp down the need that consumed him. For just a taste.

Just a taste. — Brianna Labuskes

I'm crying for the little girl whose mother divorced her father, the girl who wanted to fall in love for the first time but wasn't ready for sex, the girl who dated a boy just because he wasn't the first one, the girl who fell hard for the guy with the easy smile and the green eyes, the girl who needed to prove she could hook up on a class trip, the girl who rand for student council just to impress a guy, the girl who lost her best friend, the girl whose father doesn't care anymore, the girl who doesn't have the money for college, the girl who just wants her grandma to fix everything, the girl who doesn't talk to anyone about anything, the girl who just can't fall in love again - even if a sweet guy folds a thousand paper cranes. Just for her. — Sydney Salter

He opened his mouth. The words were there. He was about to say them when a jolt of terror went through him, the terror of someone who, wandering in a mist, pauses only to realise that they have stopped inches from the edge of a gaping abyss. The way she was looking at him - she could read what was in his eyes, he realised. It must have been written plainly there, like words on the page of a book. There had been no time, no chance, to hide it.
"Will," she whispered. "Say something, Will."
But there was nothing to say. There was only emptiness, as there had been before her. As there would always be.
'I have lost everything', Will thought. 'Everything. — Cassandra Clare

Her voice is raw. She sings from the deepest cracks of her heart and her soul. When she closes her eyes, I know she has lost herself in the music. - Unrequited — Alisa Mullen

Remembering her own narrow single bed at home, she added without thinking, "Someone could get lost in that bed."

Valois laughed, surprising Delta and she looked curiously at him. His eyes twinkling wickedly, the Frenchman said, "Perhaps some company would relieve you of that fear. — Brooke Templar

At his booming voice, her eyes flew open. If he wasn't already on the ground, he would have fallen to his knees. Sebastian was instantly lost. The ship fell away and there was only her. The blue of her eyes was indescribable, so light they unabashedly pulled him in. No color imaginable compared. Her eyes turned pleading. For what? He didn't know. But at that moment he would have given it to her. — Kiersten Fay

My princess," began Mara, then found she could not speak the crushing phrases. "His Highness sends his warmest regards," she finished.
She had the satisfaction of seeing Ianni's face come back to life; the great dark eyes lost their look of suffering and turned hopefully toward the king. Mara turned to him too, well-pleased with her merciful little lie. But one look at his startled face froze the blood in her veins. What a fool she was! Of course, he had understood every word she said.
"Son of Pharaoh, live forever!" she gasped. "I crave pardon-- I could not believe you meant to wound this princess, however lowly--"
"You mean you forgot that I could understand," retorted Thutmose. — Eloise Jarvis McGraw

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

Well, do you still make that marvelous wine? The pale red one, with a hint of nuts? I've boasted about it all the way here."
"There was a vineyard once, up on the slope of the Horn Ridge," Persephone said. "But it was lost to drought decades ago."
Nyphron scowled. "Doesn't anything in this place last?"
"Hardship," Persephone replied. "We always have an abundance of that."
The god looked directly at her. Their eyes met and he smiled. With a nod, he replied, "Well ... at least you have that. — Michael J. Sullivan

You probably think battles are won with cannons and brave speeches and fearless charges." She smoothed her skirts as she spoke. "They're not. Wars are won by dint of having adequate shoe leather. They're won by boys who make shells in munition factories, by supply trains shielded from enemy eyes. Wars are won by careful attendance to boring detail. If you wait to see the cavalry charge, Your Grace, you'll have already lost. — Courtney Milan

I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes ... — William Butler Yeats

You truly are the most astonishingly beautiful hobbit I've ever seen," he said, and Tamsyn froze.
"Hobbit??"
"Um, yes?" he said, and Tamsyn looked down at herself in panic. Her suit had disappeared and been replaced by a straight dress in a rustic homespun fabric of a drab, brownish grey. Her hair still looked the same, she established when she grabbed a handful and held it up in front of her face, but when she scrabbled up and caught a glimpse of her feet, her legs immediately lost their strength again. She thudded back down hard and grabbed her left leg, yanking her foot up to her eyes.
It was bare, large and very, very hairy.
She checked her other foot as well, hoping against all laws of probability that it would be different, and groaned in consternation when it looked the same as the left one.
"This can't be true!" she wailed, scrambling to get up again. "I'm a hobbit! — Erica Dakin

Ladies first." I couldn't wait for this game to be over so I could teach her how to break properly. Images of her body pressed against mine, bending over the table, caused my jeans to get tighter.
"Your funeral," she sang and my lips turned up at her flash of confidence. Echo twirled her pool cue like a warrior going into battle, never once taking her eyes off the cue ball. She leaned over the table. I focused on her tight ass. My siren ate me alive with every movement. As she took aim, she no longer resembled the fragile girl at school, but a sniper.
The quick and thunderous cracking of balls caught me off guard. The balls fell into the pockets in such rapid succession, I lost count. Echo rounded the table, once again twirling the cue, studying the remaining balls like a four-star general would a map.
Damn - the girl knew how to play. — Katie McGarry

Sarsine grabbed his wrists and tugged the hands from his eyes. He looked at her, but didn't see her. He saw Kestrel's wasted face. He saw himself as a child, the night of the invasion, soldiers in his home, how he had done nothing.
Later, he'd told Sarsine when the messenger had come to see him.
No, I won't, he'd promised Roshar when the prince had listed reasons not to rescue the nameless spy from the tundra's prison.
"I was wrong," Arin said. "I should have - "
"Your should haves are gone. They belong to the god of the lost. What I want to know is what you are going to do now. — Marie Rutkoski

Her eyes stare at me but she seems not to see me; she looks as though she were lost in her suffering. — Jean-Paul Sartre

He closed his eyes as she put her hand on his shoulder, and in that instant, nothing else mattered. Not the song, not the place, not the other couples around him. Only this, only her. He gave himself over to the feel of her body as it pressed against him, and they moved slowly in small circles on the sawdust-strewn floor, lost in a world that felt as though it had been created for just the two of them. — Nicholas Sparks

So we spend a few months on the road, looking for the Alcani. And say we find them. Either the Dragon Solstice happens, and we save the world, or it doesn't happen, and we've still found a lost people, and all it cost us was a few months on the road. Besides, we've seen the scars all over Tenjia and Duskland. The burned forests and fields of ash. There aren't enough faeries to bring back the land, not at the rate the dragons are scorching it. I think it makes sense that the unicorns are supposed to be here, protecting the land, somehow. Only an idiot would ignore a disaster she could see with her own eyes, stick her head in the sand, and hope it all works out just fine on its own. — Joseph Robert Lewis

Jacques." She hesitated, wanting to touch him, needing to touch him, but afraid of being lost in the sexual lure she couldn't seem to resist. "How do I know if I'm the one thinking for myself when you're always with me, always sharing my mind?"
"You will have to figure that out for yourself, Shea." His black eyes moved lovingly over her face. "You know me better than anyone, and I have never tried to hide anything from you. If you brand me a monster, even I will believe you." His smile was gentle and reassuring. — Christine Feehan

It was her. No one had eyes like that. Eyes as pure as the sky on a fresh, wintery morning. Ones that sucked him in and refused to let go. No one had her touch. Feather light and warm. A touch that sizzled his insides and brought him to his knees.
And no one had that pure, simple, cherry-vanilla scent. The sweetness that was only her, like she was a dessert made just for him. To lick, nibble, and enjoy. — Justine Dell

She tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. "No diseases, right?" she asked, before she lost all reason. "No weird shifter thing I should know about beforehand?"
"All human normal," he said, his eyes dark and intense as he looked at her. Then he flashed a wicked smile. "Though my endurance might be legendary. — Kathy Lyons

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

You're lost in your own world, in the things that happen there, and you've locked all the doors. Sometimes I look at you sleeping. I wake up and look at you and I feel closer to you when you're like that, unguarded, than when you're awake. When you're awake you're like someone with her eyes closed, watching a movie on the inside of your eyelids. I can't reach you anymore. Once upon a time I could, but not now, and not for a long time. — Nicole Krauss

Classical Sanskrit prose writers made very long sentences like this: "Lost in the forest and in thought, bent upon death and at the root of a tree, fallen upon calamity and her nurse's bosom, parted from her husband and happiness, burnt with the fierce sunshine and the woes of widowhood, her mouth closed with silence as well as by her hand, held fast by her companions as well as by grief, I saw her with her kindred and her graces all gone, her ears and her soul left bare, her ornaments and her aims abandoned, her bracelets and her hopes broken, her companions and the needle-like grass-spears clinging round her feet, her eyes and her beloved fixed within her bosom, her sighs and her hair long, her limbs and her merits exhausted, her aged attendants and her streams of tears falling down at her feet...." and it goes on. — Abraham Eraly

He shook the hair out of his face. "I'm not interested in court ladies," he said thickly, and kissed her. His mouth was warm, and his lips were smooth, and Celaena lost all sense of time and place as she slowly kissed him back. He pulled away for a moment, looked into her eyes as they opened, and kissed her again. It was different this time - deeper, full of need. — Sarah J. Maas

I can still see her face
The sorrow in her eyes, her voice, as she condemns me. I didn't know it was possible to feel such shame. To feel so sick at heart. I'm lost inside, my soul
all that I thought I was, and am, and ever will be
shattered, cast to the winds. Compared to this, death is a mercy. — Chris Claremont

James was sixteen, Cam seventeen, perhaps. She had looked round for someone who was not there, for Mrs. Ramsay, presumably. But there was only kind Mrs. Beckwith turning over her sketches under the lamp. Then, being tired, her mind still rising and falling with the sea, the taste and smell that places have after long absence possessing her, the candles wavering in her eyes, she had lost herself and gone under. It was a wonderful night, starlit; the waves sounded as they went upstairs; the moon surprised them, enormous, pale, as they passed the staircase window. She had slept at once. — Virginia Woolf

Who the hell are you?" "It doesn't matter who I am. It just matters who you are. Years ago... before you were born... you were my mother." His mother? "I'm taking down your license plate and calling the police." "Kate, is everything okay?" It was Mr. Niles, their neighbor, still in a suit, his tie undone as he walked across his own lawn. Kate sized the old man. "Go." "Does the name Daniel Weaver mean something to you?" Daniel fucking what? "I said go." "Your friend Kev. Do you know who he really is?" Another chill. This one making her quiver. "He's not my friend." She searched the man's eyes. They remained kind. "Get lost." The man entered his car, and Kate watched as he started his engine, making sure he drove off. — Eric Marier

Battles against Rome have been lost and won before, but hope was never abandoned, since we were always here in reserve. We, the choicest flower of Britain's manhood, were hidden away in her most secret places. Out of sight of subject shores, we kept even our eyes free from the defilement of tyranny. We, the most distant dwellers upon earth, the last of the free, have been shielded till today by our very remoteness and by the obscurity in which it has shrouded our name. Now, the farthest bounds of Britain lie open to our enemies; and what men know nothing about they always assume to be a valuable prize ...
A rich enemy excites their cupidity; a poor one, their lust for power. East and West alike have failed to satisfy them. They are the only people on earth to whose covetousness both riches and poverty are equally tempting. To robbery, butchery and rapine, they give the lying name of 'government'; they create a desolation and call it peace ... — Tacitus

A sematary," I say. "A what?" Viola says, looking round at all the square stones marking out their graves. Must be a hundred, maybe two, in orderly rows and well-kept grass. Settler life is hard and it's short and lotsa New World people have lost the battle.
"It's a place for burying dead folk," I say.
Her eyes widen. "A place for doing what?"
"Don't people die in space?" I ask.
"Yeah," she says. "But we burn them. We don't put them in holes." She crosses her arms around herself, mouth and forehead frowning, peering around at the graves. "How can this be sanitary? — Patrick Ness

How dare you touch my cookies, you bastard!" Jason said in utter disgust before popping the cookie into his mouth and heading back to his house.
"Damn those looked good, too," Brad grumbled.
Haley sighed. "Don't worry I have a second plate on my counter." The words were barely out of her mouth when Jason abruptly changed course and headed towards her house.
"Well, there was," she said, watching Jason walk into her house like he owned it. A minute later he walked out of her house, carrying both plates and the gallon of milk she had in her fridge. He headed back to his house, but not before he glared at Brad. "You cookie thieving bastard," they heard him mutter.
Brad rolled his eyes, chuckling. "And people wonder how I lost weight rooming with him in college. — R.L. Mathewson

I listen to the rain talk to the leaves. She tells a story of love and
leaving (isn't that always the story? Isn't that always the punchline?)
She tells it softly like someone who has recently lost something that
cannot be replaced. She closes her eyes and remembers. The leaves
quietly wait. They love in silence. They understand in the dark. And I
too begin to understand. We are all part pouring rain, part fallen
leaves. We are all part of the world, and we all have a story. — Emm Roy

Diesel was about to place the cockroach on the casket, and my purse rocked out with "Thriller" again.
"Excuse me," I said. And I answered my phone.
"I'm beginning to appreciate Hatchet," Wulf said to Diesel.
Diesel smiled. "She has her moments. And she makes cupcakes."
I disconnected and stuffed my phone into my pocket.
"Well?" Diesel asked.
"It was Glo. Her broom ran away again."
"I would appreciate it if we could get on with this without more interruption," Wulf said in his eerily quiet voice, his eyes riveted on mine.
"Lighten up," I said to Wulf. "Glo lost her broom again. This is a big deal for her. And what have we got here anyway ... a dead guy and a Stone. Do you think they can wait for three minutes longer?"
Diesel gave a bark of laughter, and Wulf looked like her was trying hard not to sigh.
- Diesel, Lizzy, and Wulf, page 306-307. — Janet Evanovich

She found her view stuck to him, and it was impossible for her not to melt from within. His beautiful dark brown eyes that used to send her wild as a teen, still had the same effect. His dark unruly hair she used to toy with. And his lips, pink, and in need of her kiss. She was blushing like a beacon with so many passions coming back to her. There was a doubt, that maybe he would recognise her. But now, she could see what an empty man he was. He didn't recognise her at all. — LeeAnn Whitaker

He expected her to feel what she did not know how to feel. There were things that existed for him that she could not penetrate. With his close friends, she often felt vaguely lost. They were youngish and well-dressed and righteous, their sentences filled with "sort of," and "the ways in which"; they gathered at a bar every Thursday, and sometimes one of them had a dinner party, where Ifemelu mostly listened, saying little, looking at them in wonder: were they serious, these people who were so enraged about imported vegetables that ripened in trucks? They wanted to stop child labor in Africa. They would not buy clothes made by underpaid workers in Asia. They looked at the world with an impractical, luminous earnestness that moved her, but never convinced her. Surrounded by them, Blaine hummed with references unfamiliar to her, and he would seem far away, as though he belonged to them, and when he finally looked at her, his eyes warm and loving, she felt something like relief. — Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I get lost in your eyes; lost in your smile; lost in the feeling; just being with you! from Ashlee to her man... — Ashlee North

You are so young, Lyra, too young to understand this, but I shall tell you anyway and you'll understand it later: men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, clever; and they die almost at once. They die so soon that our hearts are continually racked with pain. We bear their children, who are witches if they are female, human if not; and then in the blink of an eye they are gone, felled, slain, lost. Our sons, too. When a little boy is growing, he thinks he is immortal. His mother knows he isn't. Each time becomes more painful, until finally your heart is broken. Perhaps that is when Yambe-Akka comes for you. She is older than the tundra. Perhaps, for her, witches' lives are as brief as men's are to us. — Philip Pullman

I believe in that line from An Imperial Affliction. 'The risen sun too bright in her losing eyes.' That's God, I think, the rising sun, and the light is too bright and her eyes are losing but they aren't lost. — John Green

It wasn't beautiful people like Celeste who were drawing Jane's eyes, but ordinary people and the beautiful ordinariness of their bodies. A tanned forearm with a tattoo of the sun reaching out across the counter at the service station. The back of an older's man neck in a queue at the supermarket. Calf muscles and collarbones. It was the strangest thing. She was reminder of her father, who years ago had an operation on his sinuses that returned the sense of smell he hadn't realized he'd lost. The simplest smells sent him into rhapsodies of delight. He kept sniffing Jane's mother's neck and saying dreamily, I'd forgotten your mother's smell! I didn't know I'd forgotten it! — Liane Moriarty

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

All right," he said. "Ready for the moment of truth?"
Lindsay looked at him quizzically.
Fred held a wooden spoonful of fudge up in front of her, waving it lightly through the air to cool it. "Here. Time to see if I've got it right."
Lindsay looked at him over the spoon, a wonderful complication of emotions in her eyes. Did she want him to win or lose the bet? Fred wasn't sure she knew the answer herself. She turned her face up toward him as he held the spoon to her lips. And then, as she tasted it, she closed her eyes, savoring the chocolate. Her expression was one of blissful surrender.
This was the real Lindsay, her face unguarded, completely in the moment. Very much like a woman lost in a kiss.
He never should have brought the bloody mistletoe. — Sierra Donovan

You should read something else."
Why would he have done that to him?"
I don't know," she said.
Do you ever feel like Job?"
She smiled, a little twinkle in her eyes.
Sometimes."
But you haven't lost your faith?"
No," I knew she hadn't, but I think I was losing mine.
Is it because you think you might get better?"
No," she said,"its because its the only thing I have left. — Nicholas Sparks

THINGS WOULD HAVE TURNED out better if she had lived. As it was, she died when I was a kid; and though everything that's happened to me since then is thoroughly my own fault, still when I lost her I lost sight of any landmark that might have led me someplace happier, to some more populated or congenial life. Her death the dividing mark: Before and After. And though it's a bleak thing to admit all these years later, still I've never met anyone who made me feel loved the way she did. Everything came alive in her company; she cast a charmed theatrical light about her so that to see anything through her eyes was to see it in brighter colors than ordinary — Donna Tartt

All sex is a form of longing even as it happens. Because it happens against the crush of time. Because the surface of the act is public, a cross-grain of fear and ruin. She wanted her body to remain a secret of the past, untouched by complexity and regret. She was superstitious about talking to doctors in detail. She thought they would take her body over, name all the damaged parts, speak all the awful words. She lay for a long time with her eyes closed, trying to drift into sleep. Then she rubbed the cat's fur and felt her childhood there. It was complete in a touch, everything intact, carried out of old lost houses and fields and summer days into the river of her hand. — Don DeLillo

You never cared that I was your sister before."
"Didn't I?" His black eyes flicked up and down her. "Our father's dead," he said. "There are no other relatives. You and I, we are the last. The last of the Morgensterns. You are the only one left whose blood runs in my veins, too. You are my last chance. — Cassandra Clare

Mrs. Allan's face was not the face of the girlbride whom the minister had brought to Avonlea five years before. It had lost some of its bloom and youthful curves, and there were fine, patient lines about eyes and mouth. A tiny grave in that very cemetery accounted for some of them; and some new ones had come during the recent illness, now happily over, of her little son. But Mrs. Allan's dimples were as sweet and sudden as ever, her eyes as clear and bright and true; and what her face lacked of girlish beauty was now more than atoned for in added tenderness and strength. — L.M. Montgomery

From the beginning, she had sat looking at him fixedly. As he now leaned back in his chair, and bent his deep-set eyes upon her in his turn, perhaps he might have seen one wavering moment in her, when she was impelled to throw herself upon his breast, and give him the pent-up confidences of her heart. But, to see it, he must have overleaped at a bound the artificial barriers he had for many years been erecting, between himself and all those subtle essences of humanity which will elude the utmost cunning of algebra until the last trumpet ever to be sounded shall blow even algebra to wreck. The barriers were too many and too high for such a leap. With his unbending, utilitarian, matter-of-fact face, he hardened her again; and the moment shot away into the plumbless depths of the past, to mingle with all the lost opportunities that are drowned there. — Charles Dickens

Why?" I asked, confused. Why did he care?
"Why what?"
"Why was he having a panic attack?"
She stared at me with her eyes wide before she leaned in.
"Lila ... because he thought he'd lost you; he thought you were dead."
"He didn't have me to lose." My breathing picked up as the emotional pain tightened my chest. "He threw me away. — K.I. Lynn

He blinked. He had the sense that he was lost in those quiet gray eyes, unable to look away from her. He was a duke. She was a - what had she called herself? A half-blind near-spinster. It shouldn't even have been a fair fight. — Courtney Milan

Daffy had stopped talking, without her noticing. It was if he'd run out of words. He did a peculiar thing, then; he reached out and touched Mary's cheekbone; lightly, as if he was brushing away a speck of coal dust. She thought of Doll, that first morning, wiping mud out of the lost child's eyes. Her throat hurt, all at once, as if she were swallowing a stone. She wished the two of them could stay forever frozen in this moment, hidden in the grass, as the setting sun slid across the fields of Monmouth. Before any asking, any refusal. While this strange, tame young man was still looking at her as is she were worth any price. — Emma Donoghue

Penelope gulped down the tea she'd been in the process of sipping. Colin had a way of looking at a person, his green eyes so focused and intent that you felt as if you must be the only two people in the universe. Unfortunately for Penelope, it also seemed to have a way of reducing her to a stammering imbecile. If they were in the midst of a conversation, she could generally hold her own, but when he surprised her like that, turning his attention onto her just when she'd convinced herself she blended in perfectly with the wallpaper, she was completely and utterly lost. — Julia Quinn

Lucanos nodded [...] 'She's the girl who sees with her heart.'
Aranae rolled all eight of her eyes. She chittered again, in a scolding tone this time. When she finished, she crossed two of her legs and gave Belle a dirty look.
Belle shrank under her disapproving glare, 'What did she say?' she asked timidly.
'She said your heart needs glasses. — Jennifer Donnelly