Quotes & Sayings About Smiling With Eyes

Begin with the soft smelted upturned heart-shaped mouth made for smiling a smile kept for kindness, tenderness, incapable of malice.
Am I going too fast for you?
The almond eyes see out through their sleepy epicanthic fold. Trusting and calm, if a flicker from slowness, a further flicker from stupidity.
Settled in slow-motion beauty, heart-breaking beauty. — Craig Raine

He swatted at her with his book. "Shut up and read, will you?"
He lay back down and closed his eyes. Emma glanced over to check that he was smiling, and smiled too. — David Nicholls

An accountant would not make his girlfriend worry he while he was away at work"
"Yeah," Jonas shot back with a smile, "but he also wouldn't have a milf girlfriend either."
I felt my eyes round as Tate said in a father's warning tone but still I could tell from his voice he was smiling huge, "Bub."
"Dad, seriousloy, she's milf," Jonas returned.
"Think it, boy, don't say it." Tate replied.
"Right," Jonas muttered but he was still smiling at me and his smile was unrepentant.
Jonas had called me a milf.
I knew what that meant and I didn't know what to do with it.
Seriously, Tate from head to toe. — Kristen Ashley

Look, if you're going to insist that I've taught you something, I guess I should give you a final exam." "Really?" "One question." "Sure." "Go look at an electron microscope photograph of an atom, okay? Don't just glance at it. It is very important that you examine it very closely. Think about what it means." "Okay." "And then answer this question. Does it make your heart flutter?" "Does it make my heart flutter?" "Yes or no. It's a yes or no question. No equations allowed." "All right, I'll let you know." "Don't be dense. I don't need to know. You need to know. This exam is self-graded. And it's not the answer that counts, it's what you do with the information." We locked eyes. His younger face flashed in my mind. The energetic, smiling bongo drum player I had seen pictured in the front of his book, The Feynman Lectures on Physics. A question popped from my lips. — Anonymous

Ah, what happiness it is to be with people who are all happy, to press hands, press cheeks, smile into eyes. — Katherine Mansfield

Merripen emerged from a hallway leading away from the entrance room. He was in his shirtsleeves with no collar or cravat, the neck of the garment hanging open to reveal tanned skin gleaming with perspiration. With his black hair falling over his forehead, and his dark eyes smiling at the sight of them, Merripen cut a dashing figure. "You're three hours behind schedule," he said.
Laughing, Amelia pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and gave it to him. "In a family of four sisters, there is no schedule. — Lisa Kleypas

Aren't you going to look at it, Verity?" asked Miss Deane. Slowly, I unwrapped it. I saw a small, slim girl with serious eyes and a little pointed face, wearing her second-best dress and posed stiffly beside an artificial rosebush. Standing behind her, rising out of a sort of mist, was a fair-haired young man in a white shirt. There was no doubt as to who it was. It was my half-brother Alexander, and he was smiling. — Susan Green

I had my arms around his waist, smiling as I looked up at him. Being with Alex made me so completely happy, in an easy, uncomplicated way that I hadn't felt since I was a small child. "I love you," I said. In the five days we'd been there, it was the first time I'd said the words to him in English; they just slipped out.
Alex's expression went very still as he looked down at me, his dark hair stirred by the slight breeze. I picked up a sudden wave of his emotions, and they almost brought tears to my eyes. Gently, he took my face in his hands and kissed me.
"I love you, too," he said against my lips. — L.A. Weatherly

So what does the winner get in the end?" Tate asked.
"They get to sit around with the losers and say, 'I am King Xavier of the world.' Repeat after me."
"And me?" Tate asked.
"You get to be my queen."
"How come you're the leader of the community?" Narnie asked, almost smiling. "Why can't Tate be?"
Webb looked at his sister, grinning. "Why can't you, Narnie?"
Fitz leaned his head on Narnie's shoulder. "And I'll be your queen?"
"You can be the eunuch," Jude said, shoving him out of the way, "and I'll be her prince." He bowed and took Narnie's hand, kissing it, and their eyes met. It was awkward for a moment until Narnie looked away. — Melina Marchetta

I met them in Minneapolis when the Society hosted a brunch for this year's winners and gave us these oversized checks they had us pose with. The picture made the front page of the Le Sueur News Herald.
It was really embarrassing because I'm smiling with my eyes shut.
And if that wasn't bad enough, Russ made a huge copy of the photo, replacing the background with a highway scene and the check I was holding with a sign that said NEED RIDE TO STAR TREK CONVENTION. — Brian Malloy

There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes, which were merry and asquint with unselfconscious happiness. The change was profound. If he was beautiful when grave-and he was-smiling, he was nothing short of glorious. — Laini Taylor

Greta moved on. She kept smiling. Nobody looked at her with any recognition or pleasure and why should they? People's eyes slid round her and then they went on with their conversations. They laughed. Everybody but Greta was equipped with friends, jokes, half-secrets, everybody appeared to have found somebody to welcome them. — Alice Munro

Prince Albert was gazing out of the window into the dark streets. Grace's eyes locked with Prince Albert's and she immediately sank into curtsey. On rising, she blushed to see that he was nodding in acknowledgment and smiling. Not knowing what else to do, she curtseyed again, and while her knee was still bent, the traffic eased and the royal carriage moved off. — Mary Hooper

Wisteria hangs over the eaves like clumps of ghostly grapes. Euphorbia's pale blooms billow like sea froth. Blood grass twists upward, knifing the air, while underground its roots go berserk, goosing everything in their path. A magnolia, impatient with vulvic flesh, erupts in front of the living room window. The recovering terrorist
holding a watering can filled with equal parts fish fertilizer and water, paisley gloves right up over her freckled forearms, a straw hat with its big brim shading her eyes, old tennis shoes speckled with dew
moves through her front garden. Her face, she tells herself, like a Zen koan. The look of one lip smiling. — Zsuzsi Gartner

Thanks, Mom. Thanks for making me try out for this play.'

I think I might have just made being a mother totally worthwhile for her.

I will try to never forget her face...Mom's got tears in her eyes and she's smiling. It's an amazing look.

I have to remember how powerful it can be to say thank you.

Especially to the people you live with. — Holly Goldberg Sloan

Tears blurred her vision as she leaned over him. His mouth was surely made for smiling. For laughing. For kissing. Grief welled up along with the feeling that he might never do any of those things again.
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. They were cool and unresponsive.
Then they parted.
She jerked back, saw his eyes flutter open.
"Don't stop now," he whispered. — Elena Greene

Princess Keita," the dragon began, "this is Elina Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains." He faced Elina and, smiling, said, "And Elina Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains, this is Keita the Viper: Princess of the Royal House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, Second-Born Daughter and Fifth-Born Offspring to the White Dragon Queen of the Southlands, Protector of The Throne, and Bound Mate to Ragnar, Dragonlord Chief of the Olgeirsson Horde."
Keita narrowed blue eyes at the dragon. "Was that really necessary, Curled Horns?"
His grin did not falter. "It felt necessary and good. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to working with Elina Shestakova of the - "
"Do not bore me with that ridiculously long name yet again!" the royal roared. — G.A. Aiken

Placing his snout on the edge of my bed,
Boomer pricks up his ears and widens his smiling eyes
when I turn my head towards him.
I smile at Boomer.
"I guess you want to go for a walk?"
Boomer bobs his head in agreement
and runs around in a circle.

"Okay," I say.
I turn over,
throw off the blankets,
raise my upper body
and swing my legs around and over
the edge of the bed.
I sit on the edge of the bed
with my feet touching the floor
and my hands at my sides,
all holding me up as my upper body
leans over the edge.
I am still half asleep.

I look around to my right for Boomer,
but he is no where to be found.
Boomer went for his last walk
some thirty years ago. — Jeffrey A. White

When it's time to leave, we put on our shoes, kiss Daddy good-bye, and tumble out the front door. Waiting for us on the street in front of his car is Peter with a bouquet of cellophane-wrapped pink carnations. "Happy birthday, kid," he says. Kitty's eyes bulge. "Are those for me?" He laughs. "Who else would they be for? Hurry and get in the car." Kitty turns to me, her eyes bright, her smile as wide as her face. I'm smiling too. "Are you coming too, Lara Jean?" I shake my head. "No, there's only room for two." "You're my only girl today, kid," Peter says, and Kitty runs to him and snatches the flowers out of his hand. Gallantly, he opens the door for her. He shuts it and turns and winks at me. "Don't be jealous, Covey." I've never liked him more than in this moment. — Jenny Han

Dantes had entered the Chateau d'If with the round, open, smiling face of a young and happy man, with whom the early
paths of life have been smooth. and who anticipates a future corresponding with his past. This was now all changed. The oval face was lengthened, his smiling mouth had assumed the firm and marked
lines which betoken resolution; his eyebrows were arched beneath a brow furrowed with thought; his eyes were full of melancholy, and from their depths occasionally sparkled gloomy fires of misanthropy and hatred; his complexion, so long kept from the sun, had now that pale color which produces, when the features are encircled with black hair, the aristocratic beauty of the man of the north; the profound learning he had acquired had besides diffused over his features a refined intellectual expression; and he had also acquired, being naturally of a goodly stature, that vigor which a frame possesses which has so long concentrated all its force within itself. — Alexandre Dumas

Then her eyes narrowed. The sun was spilling in the window behind her and Dageus's eyes were golden, dappled with darker flecks. Smoky and sensual, fringed by thick dark lashes, but gold nonetheless.
"What is with your eyes?" she exclaimed. "Is it part of being
a Druid?"
"What color are they?" he asked warily.
"Gold."
He flashed her another unguarded smile. It was like basking in the sun, she thought, tracing her fingers over his beard-shadowed jaw, smiling helplessly back. — Karen Marie Moning

Pump up your bagpipes and delight our ears with decent martial music. With your permission, noble Calanthe!" "Oh mother of mine," whispered the queen to Geralt, raising her eyes to the vault for a moment in silent resignation. But she nodded her permission, smiling openly and kindly. — Andrzej Sapkowski

Artemis turned and stared at his friend with the blue eyes. Holly was staring back, and she was smiling.
"I remember," she said aloud. "You saved me."
Artemis smiled back. "It never happened," he said. — Eoin Colfer

I can't impose on my friends for too long. I'm not sure what to do." He tipped her face up and brushed a kiss across her lips. "You'll marry me, of course. As soon as it can be arranged." Her pulse skipped, and she pulled back. "Right away?" His eyes were smiling and full of love. "I'd marry you tomorrow if we could arrange it that quickly." The thought of being a family with him and Edward brought heat rushing to her cheeks. "I'd like that more than anything in the world," she said. "Tell me what to do and I'll arrange it." "There are so many things to do, I don't know where to start," she said, laughing. The smile left his face. "When, my love?" The possessiveness in his voice heated her cheeks even more. "I need at least two weeks. I have to make a dress." "I'll buy you one." "I want to make it. I'll only have one wedding day. — Colleen Coble

Come in with us," she called. The moist sea air caused her auburn locks to curl. The thought that there might be an opportunity to kiss that smiling pink mouth nearly prompted him to obey. The slim tights of her swimming costume showed off the shape of her legs, and he couldn't take his eyes off her. She put Edward down, then stood with her hands on her hips. "Roll up your trousers. At least let the waves break at your ankles." "I didn't bring a swimsuit," John said. He grinned. "Besides, don't you know that sailors drown in an inch of water?" "Coward!" She staggered out of the sea, then paused to wring the water from her skirt. — Colleen Coble

Donkeys ... I've decided that donkeys are universally cute. Really cute. So cute that donkeys defy any arguments of preferences being relative. When you pet their noses, they blink their eyes and bashfully look away as if embarrassed. And when donkeys hee-haw, they have their mouths and lips curled up as if they are smiling. Boyfriend and girlfriend donkeys rest their heads on each other's rumpt and fan each other's faces with their tails. And kid donkeys, the size of an average dog, trot around with big smiles on their faces and floppy, dangly, long donkey ears. Too cute. — Johnny Rico

What do you hunt with, then?" I ask. She fixes her wild amber eyes on me. "My teeth." She smiles widely, displaying her long, white, glistening canines. The hairs on the back of my neck go up in alarm. "Oh," I say, swallowing nervously. "You mean when you turn into a wolf?" "Not necessarily," she says, still smiling dangerously. Holy — Laurie Forest

First was a lone cyclist, in a red jersey, toiling intent and confident out of the westering sun, passing to the melody of a high chattering cheer. Then three together in a harlequinade of faded colour, legs caked yellow with dust and sweat, faces expressionless, eyes heavy and endlessly tired.
Tommy faced Dick, saying: 'I think Nicole wants a divorce - I suppose you'll make no obstacles?'
A troupe of fifty more swarmed after the first bicycle racers, strung out over two hundred yards; a few were smiling and self-conscious, a few obviously exhausted, most of them indifferent and weary. A retinue of small boys passed, a few defiant stragglers, a light truck carried the victims of accident and defeat. — F Scott Fitzgerald

She went on tiptoe and pecked his cheek with a kiss. Daring of her, she knew.
His green eyes went dragon-gold and sharp, the bones of his forehead morphing slightly to suggest the crowned brow of the dragon inside. At least he was smiling, though it was the kind of greedy grin that would send most people running in the opposite direction.
Not her.
"Let's just get this over with," she said.
"Yes." His voice had gone rumbly. "And then on to something else. — Erin Kellison

Trust me, They want you. They want what's mine." He pulls me against him, and I lift my arms to his shoulders, my hands in his hair, regarding him with amusement.
"Mine," he repeats, his eyes glowing possessively.
"Yes, yours." I reassure him, smiling. — E.L. James

I understand that if you focus on what is wrong in your life, that is all you will see." Marian put her hands on Alditha's shoulders. "But if you open your eyes, you will see all the good gifts God has given you. If you continue to see only the bad, you will become bitter and angry. If you decide to see what is good, you will go back to being the smiling girl I grew up with and loved." Alditha swallowed hard. The words of the priest came to her. "This life, though hard, is a gift. Sometimes even I do not understand all of His ways, but I will tell you this; he loves you, and everything he does or does not do is for your good. You simply have to have faith to see it that way. — Sarah Holman

This is how I think of us, when I remember our nights at Troy: Achilles and I beside each other, Phoinix smiling and Automedon stuttering through the punch lines of jokes, and Briseis with her secret eyes and quick, spilling laughter. — Madeline Miller

Don't come, I was thinking now. Wherever you are, stay there. Because with her reduced to a fantasy, I could imagine a wonderful meeting. I could see her smiling, tossing her red-haired head, staring at me with inquisitive eyes. I'd say something meaningful to her, and she'd melt for me. Reality could not live up to that. — Scott Adlerberg

I sense him smiling
and laughing and looking at me
with eyes of a thousand aborted children
coming back to rightfully
claim their life, to claim the earth. — A.P. Sweet

Death is death. Whether you die smiling or with tears in your eyes, it amounts to the same thing. A whole heap of nothing — Justin Somper

Why do you live out here? You're a great healer; you could get work in the inner city if you wanted to. Even in E-star, I bet."
"Well, I just don't want to live anywhere else," She looked up, smiling so that the lines at the edges of her eyes crinkled. As she looked out into the expanse of endless desert that led up to the crater wall, she seemed as though her thoughts were far away. "This place is our home. It was my mother's home, and her mother's before that. This is what we know, and even though our lives aren't as long as those with the clean air... this is our land. — Hazel Blackthorn

He looks into my eyes then. Smiles for just a moment too long before he turns around and walks out the door. Without a word to anyone.
Ian is gaping at me. Again.
"I'm--right, I'm so confused," Brendon says, blinking. "Right then--what just happened? Was he smiling at you? Genuinely smiling at you?"
"Looked to me like he was in love with you," Winston says, frowning. "But that's probably just because my head is messed up, right? — Tahereh Mafi

I obey. He tosses my jeans aside and settles between my legs and grabs hold of my wrists again. With his other hand, he lubes up his dick, then guides it to the place that aches for him. "Fucking fuck me," I beg. Humor dances in his eyes. "I'm not going to fuck you." Now I'm groaning again. Goddamn it. If he plans on torturing me again, I really will lose my mind - "I'm going to make love to you," he finishes. My breath hitches. Smiling, Wes drops his mouth to mine. Our lips lock at the same moment he slowly slides inside me. The burn of pleasure makes me gasp but he swallows the sound with a soft, sweet kiss that matches the soft, sweet strokes of his cock. He fills me. Completes me. My dick is an iron spike against my belly, and I struggle against the tight band of his fingers around my wrists. — Sarina Bowen

Enoch considered the defiance in the painted eyes and the subtle perversion expressed with curling lips, and then he touched a pair of frozen lips as if the smiling portrait might whisper some secret word into his hand. — W.H. Pugmire

He loomed over her, his eyes dark, his expression implacable. "You are wearing my ring, Maggie Windham." "I am wearing your ring because you were hen-witted enough to sneak it onto my night table when I was too overset to notice, and I did not want to lose it, and leaving expensive jewelry around where any maid might misplace - " But now the handsome wretch was smiling down at her. "Hen-witted, Maggie? I kiss your cheek in parting, slip a ring onto your night table, and you say I'm the one who's rendered hen-witted?" "It's one of Her Grace's words. When she uses it on the boys, they positively reel with abused dignity." "Reel into bed, Maggie, and expect me to call on you quite early tomorrow." It — Grace Burrowes

When she spoke, he rested his elbows on the table and leaned in a bit toward her, listening with great interest, both smiling and frowning, never lifting his eyes from her. It's a show, Pari told herself, he's only pretending. A polished act, something he trotted out for women, something he had chosen to do now on the spur of the moment, to toy with her awhile and amuse himself at her expense. — Khaled Hosseini

With a cold"
she spoke evenly, lowering her eyes a little
"now is the hardest time. Maybe even harder than dying. But this is probably as bad as it can get. You might come to fear the next time you get a cold; it will be as bad as this, but if you just hold steady, it won't be. For the rest of your life. That's how it works. You could take the negative view and live in fear: Will it happen again? But it won't hurt so much if you just accept it as a part of life." With that she looked up at me, smiling. — Banana Yoshimoto

I love you, too." Click. "But I'm terrified."
He lowered the camera, eyes on me.
"I didn't want to fall in love with you,' I said.
He took a step closer. "If it makes you feel any better, you put up a very impressive fight." He didn't put the camera down when he stepped forward again to kiss me. He just moved his hand to the side and cupped my face with the other, pressing his mouth to mine. "I'm scared, too, Sara. I'm scared I'm your rebound. I'm scared we'll cock it up somehow. I'm scared you'll tire of me. But the thing is," he said, smiling, "I don't want anyone else. You've rather ruined me for other women. — Christina Lauren

Celaena peered in the mirror - and stopped dead.
The somewhat shorter hair was the least of the changes.
She was now flushed with color, her eyes bright and clear, and though she'd regained the weight she'd lost during that winter, her face was leaner. A woman - a woman was smiling back at her, beautiful for every scar and imperfection and mark of survival, beautiful for the fact that the smile was real, and she felt it kindle the long-slumbering joy in her heart. — Sarah J. Maas

Curran was looking at her. Not in the same way he looked at me, but he was looking. An odd feeling flared in me, hot and angry, prickling my throat from the inside with hot sharp needles, and I realized it was jealousy. I guess there was a first time for everything. "Have you seen my father?" Lorelei asked. "How is he?" "I saw him last year," Curran said. "He's the same as always: tough and ornery." I came to stand next to him. Lorelei raised her eyebrows. Her eyes widened, and a sheen of pale green rolled over her irises. "You must be the human Consort." Yes, that's me, the human invalid. "My name is Kate." "Kate," she repeated, as if tasting the word. "It is an honor to meet you." Curran was smiling at her, that handsome hot smile that usually made my day better. Pushing Lorelei into the ocean wouldn't be diplomatic, even if I really wanted to do it. "Likewise. — Ilona Andrews

I'm only trying to pull my own weight. I don't want to be a liability.'
She reached out, smiling.
'And I would imagine I'll still be required to maintain close contact with you while I learn. At least in the beginning.'
He looked at their joined hands before turning his eyes to hers, a slow smile spreading across his own lips.
'It would be, ahem, wise to maintain physical contact while learning, that is true. — Michelle Zink

He stopped and took my hand. "If we die, or if I die ... "
He was speaking of dying, and I couldn't stop smiling.
In the dark he must not have noticed, because he said in a rush, "I must tell you that I love you, and if I live I will ask for your hand, but you needn't say anything now if it distresses you, and I might rather die without knowing that you don't love me if that's how you feel."
I tried to speak, but nothing came. I had gained courage during my adventures, but not for this.
"Addie?"
Too soft to hear, I whispered, "I do love you."
But he heard. He cupped his hand under my chin and tilted my face up so I had to meet his eyes. He was smiling too, with a smile as happy as mine. "Oh, Addie!" He leaned down to kiss me ... — Gail Carson Levine

One," I say, my eyes filling with tears. "I love you."
She nods, smiling, then reaches forward to touch my cheek. She's crying now too. "If I'd lived, I think ... " she says, "I think you really would have. — Pittacus Lore

I was observing her closely as I talked, and after a while I began to get the impression that she was not, in fact, quite so merry and smiling a girl as I had been led to believe at first. She seemed to be coiled in herself, as though with a secret she was jealously guarding. The deep-blue eyes moved too quickly about the room, never settling or resting on one thing for more than a moment; and over all her face, though so faint that they might not even have been there, those small downward lines of sorrow. — Roald Dahl

Mum's gaze returned to mine and it was smiling warmly as she attempted to squeeze my hands. 'Tell me darling,' she whispered, 'which one of those young men is my dear Belle's son, Warren?'

'Oh, you mean the son of that friend of yours you never once mentioned?' I narrowed my eyes, but her smile remained serene. Realising I was being pointedly ignored I heaved a dramatic sigh before answering her. 'The one with black hair, blue eyes, and kinda shady looking. Kind of like someone you would expect to actually set children on fire. — Millicent Nankivell

He was talking, politely, with those around him. But even as he conversed, he scanned the crowd. When his eyes rested on her, he stopped. He'd been smiling before, in a friendly fashion. But what lit his face when he saw her was more than a smile, more than a grin. It was as if someone had thrown aside the curtains of a sickroom on a glorious morning, to let sunlight spill into every darkened corner. What was he doing? Everyone would know how he felt. He simply made no effort to hide it. She could feel the heat of his expression, even from halfway across the room. — Courtney Milan

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

Pausing with the teacup near her lips, Helen said, "I would rather marry you. It will be an adventure."
Somewhat mollified , Rhys picked up a light chair with one hand and moved it close to her. "I wouldn't count on much adventuring if I were you. I'm going to look after you and keep you safe."
She glanced at him over the rim of the cup, her eyes smiling. "What I meant was, you are the adventure. — Lisa Kleypas

Self will come to life even in the slaying of self; but there is ever something deeper and stronger than it, which will emerge at last from the unknown abysses of the soul: will it be as a solemn gloom, burning with eyes? or a clear morning after the rain? or a smiling child, that finds itself nowhere, and everywhere? — George MacDonald

The beautiful thing about Kevin - besides Kevin himself - is how his voice is so different from Cecil's. It worked perfectly for the duality in this episode. Cecil's voice is deep, dark, serious. Kevin's is bright, light, and smiling. So much smiling.

He appears only briefly in this part of the episode, but the first time I heard the audio file, it really did bring tears to my eyes. Kevin's character is so utterly horrifying and with such a chipper, sunny voice. I didn't know whether I was laughing or crying. — Joseph Fink

He told me once that the devil dwells in you." "No doubt he does believe it. And what do you think, Mariana Farr?" He did look faintly devilish, smiling down at me with his dark clothes and his dark hair and those glinting eyes the color of the forest that surrounded us, shutting us off together from the wider world. I studied him closely, and shrugged in my turn. "I am no simple chit in hanging sleeves, my lord. I have eyes of my own to judge with, and I see no horns. — Susanna Kearsley

He sat with his arm still around her, watching her face and smiling as she fumbled with the elegant gold wrapping, her agile fingers suddenly clumsy. She lifted the lid off and stared speechlessly at the simple pendant that lay on satin lining like a cobweb of gold. A dark red heart, chiseled and planed, was attached to the chain.
"That's a ruby," she stammered.
"No," he corrected gently, lifting it from the box and placing it around her neck. "That's my heart." The chain was long, and the ruby heart slid down her chest to nestle between her breasts, gleaming with dark fire as it lay against her honeyed skin.
"Wear that forever," he murmured his eyes on the lush curves that his gift used as a pillow.
"And my heart will always be touching yours. — Linda Howard

I Dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride-
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride
Ah, less-less bright
The stars of night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
And never a flake
That the vapor can make
With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl-
Can vie compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless curl

Now Doubt-now Pain
Come never again,
For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
And all day long
Shine, bright and strong,
Astarte within the sky,
While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye-
While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye. — Edgar Allan Poe

As Dougal ushered them into the dining room, he wondered if Sophia's father and her grandfather would both wish to stay at MacFarlane House with them.
But as he looked into Sophia's smiling eyes, he realized it didn't matter. So long as she was by his side, life would be a grand adventure.
And no man could ask for more. — Karen Hawkins

Peace be with you," he says softly, kissing me on the cheek, and I tell him the same. Then, we shake hands with everyone around us. My eyes fill with tears of joy as I look around at the smiling people, all sharing — Kristina Ludwig

I've seen ye so many times," he said, his voice whispering warm in my ear. "You've come to me so often. When I dreamed sometimes.When I lay in fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely I knew I must die. When I needed you, I would always see ye, smiling, with your hair curling up about your face. But ye never spoke. And ye never touched me."
"I can touch you now." I reached up and drew my hand gently down his temple, his ear, the cheek and jaw that I could see. My hand went to the nape of his neck, under the clubbed bronze hair, and he raised his head at last, and cupped his face between my hands, love glowing strong in the dark blue eyes.
"Dinna be afraid," he said softly, "There's the two of us now. — Diana Gabaldon

Just at that moment she glanced towards him and saw him smiling at her, his eyes lingering on her with warmth and an indefinable something else. Her heart caught in her chest — Emily Arden

Will watched her go with regret. His attraction to the dark-haired lady with her execrable embroidery had taken him by surprise. She'd been laughing at his brothers - that was what had done it. Her eyes had sparkled with humor, her smiling lips just begging for a kiss. — Eve Edwards

She drew her knees up and dropped her chin on the top of them, smiling at him. Watching him. Caressing him with soft eyes. "You're going to go out there and act all tough, aren't you?"
"That's my intention, yes." He slipped a knife into his boots. It took discipline to keep his face pure stone when she made him want to laugh.
-Lexi & Gavriil — Christine Feehan

This is one of the most serious problems with seeker-sensitive churches. I was talking to a pastor at a seeker-friendly church not long ago about his idea that prospective Christians needed to "feel welcome" and "accepted" before anything else: no "threats," no "judgmental baggage." I asked, "If you had a person living in sin come to your church, would you confront him?" He furrowed his brow and shook his head disapprovingly. "Oh, no! We'd want him to feel loved and welcome." My eyes widened. "How long would it be before you would actually say something about that?" "Maybe a year and a half, two years," he said, smiling. "Because then he would really feel a part of things." That was shocking to me. Is there some virtue in leaving a man in his sin for the sake of feeling accepted? "Well, that's the difference between your church and our church," I said finally. "Openly practicing sinners come to our church, and they either get saved or they don't come back. — John F. MacArthur Jr.

That's it. I had enough of your abuse," Tristan said, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me back down on the bed. I screamed as he tackled me. We wrestled back and forth, laughing. I found his tickle spot giving me the advantage, but he was fast and kept getting the upper hand. He had me pinned with my arms above my head and his body pressing down on mine. I stopped resisting, but he didn't let go. He was panting and smiling over his victory. He stared deep into my eyes making my heart race. — Jessica Miller

The other ones don't want to play with me."
There were more of him? Dear God ...
The doctor turned, smiling at the boy. "Is it because you're not sharing your toys?"
Kat choked on what sounded like a near-hysterical laugh.
Micah's eyes slid to the doctor. "Sharing is not how you assert dominance."
What. The. Holy. Hell. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

She would have given her soul to him if he had asked her. And now both were fixing their eyes on the ground, abashed, and again were throwing glances at each other, smiling with love's desire. — Edith Hamilton

And then I get why Wes can't stop smiling, even though it looks silly with his eyeliner and jet-black hair and hard jaw and scars. I am not alone. The words dance in my mind and in his eyes and against our rings and our keys, and now I smile too. — Victoria Schwab

He got up, wishing to go around, but the aunt handed him the snuffbox right over Helene, behind her back. Helene moved forward so as to make room and, smiling, glanced around. As always at soirees, she was wearing a gown in the fashion of the time, quite open in front and back. Her bust, which had always looked like marble to Pierre, was now such a short distance from him that he could involuntarily make out with his nearsighted eyes the living loveliness of her shoulders and neck, and so close to his lips that he had only to lean forward a little to touch her. He sensed the warmth of her body, the smell of her perfume, and the creaking of her corset as she breathed. He saw not her marble beauty, which made one with her gown, he saw and sensed all the loveliness of her body, which was merely covered by clothes. And once he had seen it, he could not see otherwise, as we cannot return to a once-exposed deception. — Leo Tolstoy

You think you know. Then you lower your guard and act as though everything's just great. With the passage of time, you stop paying as much attention to things as you should. You're confident. What more can you do? Life is smiling on you. So is luck. You can afford your dreams. Everything's fine, everything blesses you ... and then, without warning, the sky falls in on your head. And once you're flat on your back, you realize that your life, your whole life - with its ups and downs, its pains and pleasures, its promises and failures, hangs and has always hung by a thread as flimsy and imperceptible as the threads in a spider's web. Suddenly, the slightest sound terrifies you, and no longer feel like believing in anything whatsoever. All you want to do is close your eyes and think no more — Yasmina Khadra

Brassa,' she whispered, 'what is the moon? Why does it grow in the sky?'
'Because the moon is the goddess Tor,' answered Brassa softly, smiling down at Larka, 'looking down on us all. As some say the fury of the sun is the hunter Fenris snarling at the Varg, so they say the moon is the wolf goddess, opening her eyes wider and wider and stroking the world with her kindness. — David Clement-Davies

Stories," she blurted. "The mosaic told stories, didn't it?"
"Yes, old ones."
"I'll tell them to you."
His eyes cracked open. He didn't remember closing them. "You know those tales?"
"Yes."
She didn't. This became clear as she began to tell them. She knew bits and pieces, cobbled together in ways that would have made him smile if smiling didn't hurt. "You," he breathed, "are such a faker."
"Don't interrupt."
Mostly pure invention. She remembered the images--it pleased him, how vividly she knew the temple floor's details. Which god curled around which, or how the snake's tongue forked into three. But the stories she told had little to do with his religion. Sometimes they didn't even make sense.
"Do this again," he said, "when I have strength to laugh."
"As bad as that?"
"Mmm. Maybe not. For a Valorian. — Marie Rutkoski

Then I looked right at Mama, for the first time in what seemed like forever, and she wasn't looking at me, but into me. She was pulling me to her with her eyes, like she used to do. All of a sudden I could see the light that was Mama's shining out of her eyes. I couldn't help smiling at it.
'Be careful,' my heart warned me.
But I was having a hard time remembering that there as anything to be careful about. Because if I just looked at Mama's eyes ... I could tell that the part of her I thought had gone away forever was still there and glowing, only from deep down inside her. — Katherine Hannigan

When the congregation began to disperse, a number of persons, chiefly ladies, waited for him near the pulpit, and, as he came down, met him with greetings and compliments. Nora watched him from her place, listening, smiling and passing his handkerchief over his forehead. At last they relieved him, and he came up to her. She remembered for years afterward the strange half-smile on his face. There was something in it like a pair of eyes peeping over a wall. It seemed to express so fine an acquiescence in what she had done, that, for the moment, she had a startled sense of having committed herself to something. He gave her his hand, without manifesting any surprise. "How — Henry James

It hit him in that moment in a way he knew he'd never forget that he could take that hand and she could lead him anywhere. Just tip up her lips, turn those eyes to him and hold out her hand and he'd go straight to hell with her and do it smiling. — Kristen Ashley

A woman stood, smiling with adoration at the baby in her arms. Suddenly, she turned, showing her angelic face. Her eyes were large, beautiful, brown eyes, but terror displayed across her face.
Elizabeth felt a deep, sharp ache penetrate her heart, as she reached deep for air and it came in a low gasp. Her hands flew to her chest. She soon realized the window in front of her was the same one in the vision. — Beth Bares

smiling with sad eyes I've seen what you've been hiding — R H Sin

We can't stop staring at each other. Saying nothing, nothing to say. I trace the curve of his jaw and throat, the sweet spot below his ear, with only my eyes, because he's too faraway to touch. We stare and we stare and I can't stop myself from smiling, because he's smiling, too. We don't have to speak to have this conversation; in fact, the only way to have it is by not using words. — Megan Hart

Jem put the full force of himself into each smile, so that he seemed to be smiling with his eyes, his heart, his whole being. — Cassandra Clare

Here I was just thinking all these wonderful things about you and now you're trying to strip down before we can have sex."
His hands casually held in the air, he explained, "I was hot."
"It's seventy degrees in here."
His hands went to his cotton pants, thumbing the cinched band, preparing for a total strip down. Gawd, how I secretly wanted him to do it, but for some reason, the word stop came out of my mouth. At least I agreed with myself when I said, "That is so not fair."
Neither was the way the left side of his mouth curled up, smiling wickedly as his eyes swept across my body. "You're right. Your ogling is making me uncomfortable. You should remove your top to compensate. — Devon Ashley

When you smile it looks like God is smiling. When you close your eyes it looks like an evening . When you open your eyes it looks like a morning. When you touch me it looks like an positive energy is running my all body. When you spent your time with me it looks like i am in heaven ... Do you know why ? Coz i am in love with you. I love you. — Raj Kumar

I turn to Libby. "You're kind. Probably the kindest person I know. You're also forgiving, at least a little, but I'm hoping a lot, and in my book that's a superpower." Her eyes are on mine, and there's a lot going on there. "You're smart as hell, and you don't take people's crap, least of all mine. You are who you are. You know who that is, and you aren't afraid of it, and how many of us can say that." She's not smiling, but it's not about what her mouth is doing. It's about her eyes. "You're strong too. It's not just a matter of being able to knock down a guy with a single shot to the jaw." (Everyone laughs, except her.) "I'm talking about inner strength. Like, if I would draw that inner strength it might look a lot like a triangle made of carbyne. That's the world's strongest material. You also make things better for people around you... — Jennifer Niven

Every gay man should be familiar with Bert and Ernie."
"And why is that?"
Reece rolled his eyes, smiling. "Everyone knows that they're lovers."
Ben stopped what he was doing and looked at the man incredulously. "Okay, Reece, seriously, can you hear yourself?"
"They are!" Reece said. "They live together, share a bedroom; I'm telling you the sexual tension is very palpable." Ben raised an eyebrow and said nothing. Reece cleared his throat. "You're going to break up with me now, aren't you? — L.A. Gilbert

When she heard this Sonya blushed so that tears came into her eyes and, unable to bear the looks turned upon her, ran away into the dancing hall, whirled round it at full speed with her dress puffed out like a balloon, and, flushed and smiling, plumped down on the floor. — Leo Tolstoy

His face - what would it have become? While calling him back in memory I have been haunted by the idea of the unalterable features of those who have died in youth. Borne away from them by the years, we - with our time-troubled looks and diminished alertness - have submitted to many a gradual detriment of change. But the young poet of twenty-five years ago remains his world-discovering self. His futureless eyes encounter ours from the faintly smiling portrait, unconscious of the privilege and deprivation of never growing old, unconscious of the dramatic illusion of completeness that he is destined to create. — Siegfried Sassoon

He smiled slowly, as if particularly pleased with her question, and she couldn't help smiling in return. He reached around her, his arms nearly embracing her, and wrote in the notebook on her lap, Very good. Yes, the root ball should be quite big, even so. "Should be?" His breath was warm against her ear. I confess. I've never attempted to transplant a fully grown tree. I shall do so, however, this afternoon. Would you like to watch? If someone had asked her a fortnight ago if she'd like to watch a tree being planted, she would've looked at the questioner quite pityingly. But right now, this moment, she was rather excited at the prospect. Perhaps too many viewings of Caliban's nude chest had addled her brain. In any case she gazed into his thickly lashed brown eyes and smiled brilliantly. "Yes, please." His grin was quick and all-encompassing and, she couldn't help but think, solely for her. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Most people say if you tell a wish it won't come true. But I don't think wishes work like that. I don't believe there's some bad-tempered wish-fairy with a clipboard, checking off whether or not you've told ... But it's a long shot I'll get my wish, so even if there is a fairy in charge of telling, it won't matter.
'I wish everyone had the same chances,' I say. 'Because it stinks a big one that they don't. What about you? What did you wish for?'
'Grape soda.'
I can't help smiling. 'You wished for grape soda?' He doesn't answer, and I pull my hand from my pocket. Taking one of his fluttering hands, I wrap his fingers tightly around a dollar. 'Wish granted, toad.'
He takes off running and Dad runs after him.
I close my eyes and make a new wish.
I wish the refreshment stand has grape soda. — Cynthia Lord

Then, still smiling, he kissed me. When he lifted his head he didn't go far so I heard it when he whispered, "My reward."
My eyes narrowed and I snapped, "You're not allowed to do that shit."
His head jerked slightly and he asked, "Say again?"
"Be sweet and make me all melty and want to jump you when I'm celebrating my heretofore unknown badassness with a bunch of bikers and their bitches. Not to mention, I'm hungry." Tack grinned as his arm snaked around me and he yanked me close.
"You wanna jump me?" he asked. — Kristen Ashley

The pistol had been one hell of a find, because it hadn't quite been what she'd thought it was at first blush. Not simply the S&W Mk 39, but rather a modified version of the same, the Mk 22 Mod 0, also called the "hush puppy". It was Vietnam-era, not the most reliable gun in the world, but wonderfully silent, not only equipped with a silencer to eliminate the sound of gunfire, but also with a slide lock, to keep the actual mechanical operation of the gun quiet as well. She'd test-fired the gun at the market before purchasing, and been stunned that it still worked. The Uzbek vendor had offered to sell it to her cheap.
"It's too quiet," he'd explained. "No one wants it."
Chace shut her eyes, half smiling at the memory. — Greg Rucka

What's got you smilin' like a bitch who just had good cock?" I was interrupted by a sexy drawl.
I looked up to see Nash leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of him, sexy smirk plastered on his face. He was tall, all muscle and ink; he exuded a couldn't-give-a-fuck attitude. Nash was one of the cockiest men I had ever met and the women flocked to him.
I rolled my eyes. "Can a woman not smile unless she's had cock?" I asked.
He uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the door frame; coming towards me, "No, sweet thing, it all comes down to cock."
"Well, I hate to tell you, Nash, but this woman hasn't had any today, and yet I am still smiling. I think your theory is a little off." I loved bantering back and forth with him.
He raised his eyebrows. "J's fallin' down on the job there sweetheart. You sure you don't want to jump ships? I've got all you'll ever need," he grinned at me, opening his arms wide in an inviting gesture. — Nina Levine

A free theologian works in communication with other theologians ... He waits for them and asks them to wait for him. Our sadly lacking yet indispensable theological co-operation depends directly or indirectly on whether or not we are wiling to wait for one another, perhaps lamenting, yet smiling with tears in our eyes. — Karl Barth

And as for what I've learned: be an instrument of peace. Be a gentleman at all costs. Enjoy yourself - have fun with your existence. Learn to listen to your inner voice and don't overdose on yourself. Keep your darkness in check. Let music be a healing force. Be a real musician: once you start counting money before notes, you're a full-time wannabe. Put your guitar down and go outside and take a long drink of light with your eyes. Go walk in the park and take off your shoes and socks and feel the grass under your feet and mud between your toes. Go see a baby smiling, go see a wino crawling, go see life. Feel life - all of it, as much as possible. Find a human melody, then write a song about it. Make it all come through your music. — Carlos Santana

There are guys bleeding to death who don't know it, they're smiling, they're talking, they don't feel pain because they're in shock, they ask you for some water and then they're dead. On D-day I ran past a guy lying on his spilled guts with his eyes closed and his thumb in his mouth. Eisenhower's speech had been read to us over the loudspeaker by our commander when we crossed the channel that morning. What valor and inspiration were in his words- all about how we were embarked on a great crusade, that the hopes and prayers of a liberty loving people were going with us ... I got gooseflesh when he asked for the blessing of almighty god on this great and noble undertaking. But how to reconcile that with spilled guts on a beach and flies in the eyes of some dead nineteen year old kid who traded his life for some words on paper? — Elizabeth Berg

I love the name of it. Makes me feel hopeful. I want it over my mantle." I paused in what I was doing, my eyes scanning over the photos title, Second Chances. He was smiling, I could hear it in his voice, when he added, "And I could tell it was your favorite when you showed it to me. I figure I have a better chance of getting you to come back to my house, if I fill it with the things you love." He'd hit his target with the opening salvo. That second part was just overkill. — R.K. Lilley

The girl looked older than Cath. Even with her eyes closed. Levi's other hand was tangled in her long, blond hair, and he was kissing her with his mouth smiling and open. He made it look so easy. — Rainbow Rowell

Why should she dress in a cap and gown and sweat in the sun, when her mother was not there to pose in pictures with her and cheer when her name was called? In her mind, she only saw pictures they would never take, arms around each other, her mother gaining little wrinkles around her eyes from smiling so much. — Brit Bennett

Gamache loved to see inside the homes of people involved in a case. To look at the choices they made for their most intimate space. The colors, the decorations. The aromas. Were there books? What sort?

How did it feel?

He'd been in shacks in the middle of nowhere, carpets worn, upholstery torn, wallpaper peeling off. But stepping in he'd also noticed the smell of fresh coffee and bread. Walls were taken up with immense smiling graduation photos and on rusty pocked TV trays stood modest chipped vases with cheery daffodils or pussy willows or some tiny wild flower picked by worn hands for eyes that would adore it.

And he'd been in mansions that felt like mausoleums. — Louise Penny

For many men value appearances more than reality - thus they violate what's right. Everyone's prepared to sigh over some suffering man, though no sorrow really eats their hearts, or they can pretend to join another person's happiness forcing their faces into smiling masks. But a good man discerns true character - he's not fooled by eyes feigning loyalty, favouring him with watered-down respect. — Aeschylus

Another voice rages.
I hate that boy! I hate me! I am so incredibly stupid!
A sunflower leans over the fence, smiling
How dare you!
I rip off its head and throw it in the gutter.
The smart thing to do is to keep going on. Walk away quickly and no one will know what I've done. But I can't move because my eyes are locked on the slowly opening front door - locked on Mrs Muir.
'I'm sorry.' My tiny voice sounds so pathetically lame, but I've still got more lameness for her. 'I never do this sort of thing. I like sunflowers. I was just angry about something - nothing to do with you or the flower. I'm really, really sorry.'
'Oh, you are upset! Well, never mind'. Mrs Muir comes closer to me. 'Goodness, we all get cross. The main thing is: did it make you feel any better?'
'No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit.'
'Would you like to do another one? There's more out the back, too. You go for your life dear. I don't mind at all - they need a good pruning. — Bill Condon