There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dew on the still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass Music that gentler on the spirit lies Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
Quotes about eyelids (16 Quotes)
I like to close my eyes on the stage, because I have drawn a picture of an audience enjoying the show more on the back of my eyelids.
Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
I will act now. I will act now. I will act now. Henceforth, I will repeat these words each hour, each day, everyday, until the words become as much a habit as my breathing, and the action which follows becomes as instinctive as the blinking of my eyelids. With these words I can condition my mind to perform every action necessary for my success. I will act now. I will repeat these words again and again and again. I will walk where failures fear to walk. I will work when failures seek rest. I will act now for now is all I have. Tomorrow is the day reserved for the labor of the lazy. I am not lazy. Tomorrow is the day when the failure will succeed. I am not a failure. I will act now. Success will not wait. If I delay, success will become wed to another and lost to me forever. This is the time. This is the place. I am the person.
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread, Stitch stitch stitch.
White teeth, white hands, and neck as ivory white, Black eyes, black brows, black hairs that hide delight Red lips, red cheeks, and tops of nipples red, Long legs, long fingers, long locks of her head, Short feet, short ears, and teeth in measure short, Broad front, broad breast, broad hips in seemly sort, Straight legs, straight nose and straight her pleasures place, Full thighs, full buttocks, full her belly's space, Thin lips, thin eyelids, and hair thin and fine, Small mouth, small waist, small pupils of her eyes.
Covenant Water runs from a spout below my open window. A February sun thaws what's left of Thursday's storm. It is a day of whites and blues a squint-eyed day, a hold-still, breathe-deep day. When God made the world and put Adam and Eve in the garden of greens and orchids and grapes, part of Him longed for the day when they would discover winter. When it snows in the South, parents wake their children, even at three in the morning to see flakes like goose feathers, to feel them tingling on their eyelids. Children can't begin to understand what is given them, what it costs, that the cost doesn't matter. Dear God, don't let me take this day for granted. White edges every fence. Each roof is an untouched field. The honey locust offers clumps of snow like winter fruit left unpicked in its limbs. The ponderosa spreads voluminous petticoats out to dry. Light refracts, splinters across the snow like sequins scattered and hand-sewn on my daughter's wedding veil. It is a day for making vows, the kind you tell no one, the kind you keep.
I sat there beside him till morning and as I watched his face in the starlight, then the first ray of the sun on his untroubled forehead and closed eyelids, what I experienced was not a prayer, I do not pray, but that state of spirit at which a prayer is a misguided attempt a full, confident, affirming self-dedication to my love of the right, to the certainty that the right would win and that this boy would have the kind of future he deserved.... I did not expect it to be as great as this or as hard.
I sit beneath thy looks, as children do
In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through
Their happy eyelids from an unaverred
Yet prodigal inward joy.
Electric flesh-arrows... traversing the body. A rainbow of color strikes the eyelids. A foam of music falls over the ears. It is the gong of the orgasm.
O sleep O gentle sleep Natures soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh mine eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness Why, rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hushd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumd chambers of the great, Under canopies of costly state, And lulld with sound of sweetest melody.
Under the opening eyelids of the morn.
Half close your eyelids, loosen your hair,And dream about the great and their prideThey have spoken against you everywhere,But weigh this song with the great and their prideI made it out of a mouthful of air,Their children's children shall say they have lied.
I'd never seen such yellow. Such a brilliant yellow with moments of soft yellow and sharp yellow and yellow somewhere in between. It looked gold sometimes and white. Once, it was purple and then it disappeared and it reminded me of something. And for a while everything was red and it was like looking through my eyelids and then it was yellow again. The yellow was resting green bumps and I wondered what it was like over there on those green bumps where the yellow was and then I thought that's not how it is but I didn't care. All I saw was yellow and I saw everything. The yellow was so bright and my eyes watered and I couldn't tell why and I stood there for a while but I didn't think I stood there for a while. I didn't think at all. I only thought of the yellow and I thought of everything. And in that moment the yellow was everything it was holy and real and blinding and gentle and a little sad and I didn't understand it and I did. Did I Did I.
But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time If you have ever looked on better days, If ever been where bells knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be....
She has seen the mystery hid Under Egypt's pyramid By those eyelids pale and close Now she knows what Rhamses knows.