My baby lives in shades of blue, blue eyes and jazz and attitude.
His blue eyes were seas where sorrow sailed.
Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me as if I could warm them up. They’re pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful, too.
And, for an instant, she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were no longer even remotely human.
The blue of my eyes is extinguished in this night, the red gold of my heart.
His eyes are blue, and blue eyes up close are a celestial phenomenon: nebulae as seen through telescopes, the light of unnamed stars diffused through dusts and elements and endlessness. Layers of light. Blue eyes are starlight.
Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star.
Black hair and blue eyes are my favorite combination.
A blue eye is a true eye; Mysterious is a dark one, Which flashes like a spark sun! A black eye is the best one.
Our devil has pale skin and blue eyes
Blue eyes wash off sometimes.
Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes I can't find myself any more. When did I stop being me?
Tall, sandy blonde, with sort of blue eyes, skinny in places, fat in others. An average gal.
You could drown a kitten in her blue eyes.
Math can explain the reason there's one out of four chance that I'd have blue eyes. But it doesn't explain why me.
But my deepest and most secret love belongs to the fair-haired and the blue-eyed, the bright children of life, the happy, the charming and the ordinary.
I don't like labels, but I do have blue eyes and I'm soulful, so what am I going to do?
I don't know what my appeal is. I can see I've got blue eyes and don't look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame but I can't understand the fuss.
Eisenhower had the clearest blue eyes. He would fix them on you. In my every interview with him, he would lock his eyes on to mine and keep them there.
No water, no life. No blue, no green.
Eyes of gentianellas azure, Staring, winking at the skies.
Jane was wearing a charcoal shift dress. The black dipped into a love V accented with a large black chiffon bow. A layer of delicate black lace peeked out from the bottom of her dress. Her long blond hair was pulled back tightly into a straight ironed ponytail. Her makeup was simple: coral blush on her cheeks and gunmetal shadow brushed under her blue eyes.
Bugsy Siegel. The mobster with the beautiful blue eyes.
Her blue eyes were still beautiful, but they did not know what was before them, and Mary herself could never look through them again to tell Laura what she was thinking without saying a word.
In this watering-place I acted an heroic character, badly studied; and being a novice on such a stage, I forgot my part before a pair of lovely blue eyes.
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