Quotes & Sayings About Pretty Brown Eyes

He had given work to a nightwalker named Dorothy Evans and gradually became beguiled by her. She was a plump, pretty, cattleman's daughter, pale as a cameo, with the sort of overripe body that always seems four months pregnant. Her long brown hair was braided into figure eights and pinned up over her ears in the English country-girl style. Grim experience was in her eyes, many years of pouting shaped her lips, but everything else about her expression seemed to evince an appealing cupidity, as if she could accept anything as long as it was pleasing. — Ron Hansen

You're nice to me because you think I'm pretty?"
"And because you have brown eyes. I'm a sucker for big old brown eyes. — J. Lynn

Her dark brown eyes were staring straight at him. "Pretty teeth." She had a light Texan accent. Not as hearty as the others he'd been hearing on his ride from California. "Long."
Her right index finger was in his mouth. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't yet retracted his canines. She smiled at him. "You're pretty too." Wow, she was REALLY drunk. With a sudden surge of strength, she slammed Zach against the far alley wall. Then
she was leaning into him, "I've never seen anyone as pretty as you." Zach had been called a lot of things in his lifetime, "pretty" had never been one of them. She growled as she smiled ... uh, no ... leered at him.
She kissed him — Shelly Laurenston

And there I was, pretty as heck, brown eyes, a few freckles, fashion challenged, and a bad attitude. Max II. — James Patterson

You have to be really comfortable with yourself because people are going to tell you that you're eyes are too brown or you're this or you're that. And if you're not comfortable with yourself, you could get pretty freaked out. — Brie Larson

As she grew older, Maddy discovered that she had disappointed almost everyone. An awkward girl with a sullen mouth, a curtain of hair, and a tendency to slouch, she had neither Mae's sweet nature nor sweet face. Her eyes were rather beautiful, but few people ever noticed this, and it was widely believed Maddy was ugly, a troublemaker, too clever for her own good, too stubborn - or too slack - to change.
Of course, folk agreed that it was not her fault she was so brown or her sister so pretty, but a smile costs nothing, as the saying goes, and if only the girl had made an effort once in a while, or even showed a little gratitude for all the help and free advice, then maybe she would have settled down. — Joanne Harris

Celaena." He stopped a few feet from the guards. His eyes were rich, molten brown. "Yes?" Her heartbeat steadied. "You look rather pretty today," was all he said before the doors opened and they walked forward. — Sarah J. Maas

Archer?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. Hey, you might be able to take away my magical powers, but the power of sarcasm was still at my disposal. "Is your last name Newport or Vanderbilt? Maybe followed by some numbers? Ooh!" I said, widening my eyes, "or maybe even Esquire!"
I'd hoped to hurt his feelings or, at the very least, make him angry, but he just kept smiling at me. "Actually, it's Archer Cross, and I'm the first one. Now what about you?" He squinted. "Let's see ... brown hair, freckles, whole girl-next-door vibe going on ... Allie? Lacie? Definitely something cutesy ending in ie."
You know those times when your mouth moves but no sound actually comes out? Yeah, that's pretty much what happened. And then, of course, my mom took that opportunity to end her conversation with Justin's parents and call out, "Sophie! Wait up."
"I knew it." Archer laughed. "See you, Sophie," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the house. — Rachel Hawkins

She was a pretty girl, and I was moved by her prettiness. Her hair was brown at the verge of red, and curly. Her face was still a little freckled. But it was her eyes that most impressed me. They were nearly black and had a liquid luster. The brief, laughing look that she had given me made me feel extraordinarily seen, as if after that I might be visible in the dark. — Wendell Berry

On a cold, fretful afternoon in early October, 1872, a hansom cab drew up outside the offices of Lockhart and Selby, Shipping Agents, in the financial heart of London, and a young girl got out and paid the driver.
She was a person of sixteen or so
alone, and uncommonly pretty. She was slender and pale, and dressed in mourning, with a black bonnet under which she tucked back a straying twist of blond hair that the wind had teased loose. She had unusually dark brown eyes for one so fair. Her name was Sally Lockhart; and within fifteen minutes, she was going to kill a man. — Philip Pullman

That was my first kiss ... like, ever."
"That was your first kiss?"
"You couldn't tell?" My eyes widened in utter surprise.
"You seemed nervous, yeah. But I had no idea," he said with a laugh. "Is it a total guy move if I think that's pretty awesome?"
"That you were my first kiss? Why?" I smiled, the tension lessening with each laugh that came from his beautiful mouth. He squeezed my hand in his.
"Because I'm planning to be your last. — Melissa Brown

He shook his head and thought about it for a second. "Maybe I'm not straight? Can I still be straight when I'm sitting here looking into your eyes?" he asked. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or maybe he wasn't as straight as he thought he was.
"Yes. Absolutely." Cormag nodded and watched him closely.
"Even when I think they're so pretty? They are, you know. So many different shades of brown ... and a little green. Just a touch; not a lot. So pretty." He sighed happily, watching those dark eyes staring back at him in surprise. He lay his head on his arms, smiling at the way Cormag flushed in embarrassment and turned his full attention onto his bottle of beer.
"Wow, you are super drunk. — Elaine White

I'm not ugly but I'm not pretty either. Everything is in-between. I have eyes that aren't green or brown, but a muddle. I'm not thin but I'm not fat either. the only thing you could definitely say about me is that: I'm short — Lauren Oliver

Enid was a terrific person, Elizabeth thought, and absolutely not a nerd, no matter what Jessica said. With her shoulder-length brown hair and large green eyes, she was really pretty. — Francine Pascal

I squeezed her hand. "He's not coming back, Carlee"
When I said her name, her whole body stiffened, her eyes opening wide and clearing, as though a veil over them had lifted. "Carlee," she whispered.
I nodded and waited for her to freak out, to start screaming or crying, bracing myself and getting ready to hug her or carry her back to the village, whatever it took. For a few impossibly long moments she didn't say anything, didn't move, and I wondered if the shock had broken her brain. Then her brown eyes locked on mine again, narrowing into slits.
"I'm gonna kill that effing creep."
I laughed, relief flooding through me, and threw my arms around her neck.
"No, seriously. I'm going to kill him! I can't believe I bought his stupid lines! I don't care how pretty he was, I mean, have you seen what I'm wearing?"
Laughing, I nodded into her shoulder. "So not the style."
"I know, right? I look like an extra in some fantasy movie. Some stupid fantasy movie. — Kiersten White

That's pretty bold of you, Jill Cleary." His eyes sparkled when he teased. "We've only known each other a few hours, and you're already talking about us getting pets together. — Carolyn Brown

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

Can I help you? She was middle height and very pretty. He had an overall impression of fine bones and white linen, topped with a wealth of curly brown hair in a sort of half-tamed chignon. And in the middle of it all, the most extraordinary pair of light eyes, just the color of well-aged sherry. — Diana Gabaldon

Nice to see a pretty girl stopping by, even if it is just business. And look at you with all that curly red hair and big brown eyes. And you got a nose that's cute as a button. I bet you work out too. — Janet Evanovich

Sam has brown hair and very, very pretty green eyes. The kind of green that doesn't make a big deal about itself. — Stephen Chbosky

In a city like San Francisco, you can throw a rock out your front door and hit someone with a nice ass and pretty brown eyes. But to find someone you want to fall asleep with, someone you want to breathe and dream next to, is terribly rare. — Christopher Baer Will

The Nigger was a handsome, austere woman with snow-white hair and a dark and awful dignity. Her brown eyes, brooding deep in her skull, looked out on an ugly world with philosophic sorrow. She conducted her house like a cathedral dedicated to a sad but erect Priapus. If you wanted a good laugh
and a poke in the ribs, you went to Jenny's and got your money's worth; but if the sweet worldsadness close to tears crept out of your immutable loneliness, the Long Green was your place. When you came out of there you felt that something pretty stern and important had happened. It was no jump in the hay. The dark beautiful eyes of the Nigger stayed with you for days. — John Steinbeck

It happens," he repeated. "For people like us, baby. It happens, eventually. Just as long as we hold on." She liked that. She showed it with her pretty brown eyes. She showed it by pressing closer. She showed it by wrapping both arms around his neck. Finally, she showed it by rolling up further and taking his mouth. And he liked that. So he showed her too. While she was taking his, he took hers. And with that - as they did and as they'd continue to do - together, Cher Rivers and Garrett Merrick successfully weathered yet another storm. — Kristen Ashley

Nothing. I wanted to hit him but hitting a masochist is pretty pointless. Wesley?" She finally looked him full in his face. For a moment his brown eyes turned silver and she saw Michael's face floating in front of her. "What if I'm a bad person, too?"
"You're not a bad person. If you were a bad person you wouldn't be sitting fully dressed in a bathtub with no water in it because you're terrified you might be a bad person. The devil doesn't worry about going to hell."
"Only because he's already there. — Tiffany Reisz

I was at this guy's house. I met this girl who was hanging out there. She was real pretty, she had brown eyes and dark hair. She was soft-spoken and real nice. I know that everyone has their own life and they can do what they want and you shouldn't think anything of it or anything. But man, I couldn't help but flinch a little when I saw all those needle marks in her arm, they looked so sore. Hateful little holes. I wanted to say something, but I didn't. — Henry Rollins

Bremer also observed "a pretty little white boy of about seven years of age sitting among some tall Negro girls. The child had light hair, the most lovely light brown eyes, and cheeks as red as roses; he was, nevertheless, the child of a slave mother, and was to be sold as a slave. — Michelle Gordon Jackson