Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“Amazing how eye and skin color come in many shades yet many think sexuality is just gay or straight.”
― DaShanne Stokes

“I just found out that people with brown eyes actually have blue eyes or blue-grey eyes underneath! The brown is just a layer that covers the real colour underneath. And brown is the only colour eye that is multilayered like that. So in other words, people with brown eyes are layered individuals with deep souls; pull away the top layer and you’ll find an ocean underneath!”
― C. JoyBell C.

“...his eyes were exactly the color of that gleaming golden-brown moss you see on stones under the clear water of running brooks.”
― Eleanor Cameron, A Spell Is Cast

“You may not be beautiful in the traditional sense, but that doesn't mean you aren't lovely all the same. Uniquely lovely, with an inner radiance that far transcends what passes for pretty these days. Take your eyes, for example."
"My eyes?"
"Hmmm. Have you ever noticed how they change color with your moods?"
She shook her head.
"Well, they do. When you're happy, they're a pure pristine blue, like twin brushstrokes of sky. And when you're displeased or lost in serious thought, they shift to grey. Silvery, sensual grey, the sort that ripples like dawn mist over a lake. I can think of no other woman with eyes like yours. Magnificent, soul-deep eyes in which a man could drown if he weren't careful.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“I did not actually accuse you of being beautiful. I said you looked beautiful tonight. A subtle but significant difference."
"Yes, the gown," she started to say.
He stepped closer. "Is my eyesight failing? Let me take a closer study." He took another step, until she had to tilt back her head to look at him. "Hold still," he said, amusement softening his tone. He touched her chin.
Eliza froze.
Gently the earl tipped her face from side to side, his dark eyes intent upon her. "A few freckles," he said thoughtfully. "But I find those charming." His thumb brushed along her cheekbone and Eliza's hands fisted in the folds of her skirt. "Your lashes are very long," he murmured. "And your eyes... Your eyes are lovely. Like the fields of Rosemere under a summer sky, when the grasses are tall and verdant, and golden finches swoop in and out.”
― Caroline Linden, An Earl Like You

“For a moment, his pupils flickered blue, like there were tiny bathypelagic fish swimming in the deep trenches of his eyeballs.”
― James S.A. Corey, Abaddon’s Gate

“Catherine Marks came to stand on the other side of the doorway as if she were a fellow sentinel guarding the castle gate. Leo glanced at her covertly. She was dressed in lavender, unlike her usual drab of colors. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back into such a tight chignon as to make it difficult for her to blink. The spectacles sat oddly on her nose, one of the wire earpieces crimped. It gave her the appearance of a befuddled owl.
"What are you looking at?" she asked tersely.
"Your spectacles are crooked," Leo said, trying not to smile.
She scowled. "I tried to fix them, but it only made them worse."
"Give them to me." Before she could object, he took them from her face and began to fiddle with the bent wire.
She spluttered in protest. "My lord, I didn't ask you to- if you damage them-"
"How did you bend the earpiece?" Leo asked, patiently straightening the wire.
"I dropped them on the floor, and as I was searching, I stepped on them."
"Nearsighted, are you?"
"Quite."
Having reshaped the earpiece, Leo scrutinized the spectacles carefully. "There." He began to give them to her and paused as he stared into her eyes, all blue, green, and gray, contained in distinct dark rims. Brilliant, warm, changeable. Like opals. Why had he never noticed them before?
Awareness chased over him, making his skin prickle as if exposed to a sudden change in temperature. She wasn't plain at all. She was beautiful, in a fine, subtle way, like winter moonlight, or the sharp linen smell of daisies. So cool and pale... delicious. For a moment, Leo couldn't move.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Tempt Me at Twilight

“He placed the spectacles on her face with great care, running his fingers along the sides of the frame, viewing the fit with an assessing glance. Gently he touched the tips of the earpieces. "They're not fitted well." He ran an exploring fingertip over the upper rim of one ear. She was remarkably pretty in the sunlight, her gray eyes containing glimmers of blue and green. Like opals. "Such small ears," Leo continued, letting his hands linger at the sides of her fine-boned face. "No wonder your spectacles fall off so readily. There's hardly anything to hang them on."
Marks stared at him in bewilderment.
How fragile she was, he thought. Her will was so fierce, her temperament so prickly, that he tended to forget she was only half his size. He would have expected her to slap his hands away by now- she hated being touched, especially by him. But she didn't move at all.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Married by Morning

“I've never seen such eyes," he said almost absently. "They remind me of the first time I saw the North Sea." His fingertips followed the edge of her jaw. "When the wind chases the waves before it, the water is the same green-gray your eyes are now... and then it turns to blue at the horizon.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Married by Morning

“Lord, but he was a big, beautiful beast of a man.
There was just so much of him. Tall, broad, powerfully muscled. And utterly bare, save for that thin bit of toweling and his thick, dark hair. He had a great deal of hair. Not only plastered in damp curls on his head, but defining the hard line of his jaw. And lightly furring his chest.
He had nipples. Two of them.
Eyes, Penny. He has two of those, too. Focus on the eyes.
Sadly, that strategy didn't help.His eyes were chips of onyx. Chips of onyx dipped in ink, then encased in obsidian, then daubed with pitch, then thrown into a fathomless pit. At midnight.”
― Tessa Dare, The Wallflower Wager

“Of all her rather unremarkable features, her eyes were her strong point, despite being partially hidden behind a pair of spectacles. A gentle blue-grey, their color shifted in the most interesting manner from gentian to pewter depending upon the light. He supposed most people never noticed such subtle variations, thinking her irises to be either plain grey or ordinary blue, but he'd found himself intrigued; more so than he might have expected after such a brief encounter.”
― Tracy Anne Warren, Seduced by His Touch

“The woman who'd shot him had eyes the color of the sky above the moors just after a storm: blue-gray sky after black clouds. That particular shade of blue had been one of the few things his mother had found beautiful in England.
Raphael agreed.
Despite the fear that shone in them, Lady Jordan's blue-gray eyes were beautiful.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Desire

“But I knew my hair was healthy and a pretty color, dark brown shot with red in certain lights. I'd always liked my eyes, which were large and framed by naturally long lashes, and if I used to wish they were violet instead of brown, I was mostly over it now. That had been a side effect of reading too many romance novels, I knew, where the heroine's eyes were always sparkling emerald or velvety indigo.”
― Alicia Thompson, Love in the Time of Serial Killers

“I took another step closer, until we were near enough to one another that I could see all the variations of color within his dark eyes. They weren't a monochromatic brown, like they appeared from a distance. His irises contained very subtle pinpricks of hazel as well, combining with the brown to create the richest, most beautiful eye color I'd ever seen.”
― Jenna Levine, My Roommate Is a Vampire

“After perfuming my neck with lychee and fig oil, I touch up my barrel curls and apply a fresh coat of lip gloss. As I stare at my reflection, I almost believe I'm the angel I masquerade as.
My skin shines like opals, the iridescence catching the fullness of my lips and the high points of my cheeks. Coalescing down to my waist are ribbons of black hair, perhaps my favorite feature about myself. Though my mother has always loved my eyes the most--- upturned and narrow, blooming with feathered lashes. I, for one, have always been frightened by them. Some would mistake their red-honey color for brown. But in the light, they glint with a tint of ruby. Like devil eyes. I shut them.
No more ocean of a girl.
At least not tonight.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea