Antonia had the most trusting, responsive eyes in the world; love and credulousness seemed to look out of them with open faces.
There was something awful in her eyes; something so dark and chilling that the skin on the back of his neck crawled and automatically he put his hand up to stroke it.
His eyes are a clear, ignorant, and somewhere dangerous yellow, quietly studying you.
His eyes were as clear as pale water in the shade, as if they reached all the way back in time to the very beginning, and saw everything as it really was.
His eyes, of the usual blue, were perhaps remarkably cold, and he certainly could make his glance fall on one as trenchant and heavy as an axe.
Bandage up me eye with me own history blind me to my own identity.
I remembered whatthe conductor had said about her eyes. They were big and warm and fullof light, like the sun shining on brown pools in the wood.