Pastoral Resources

Life is the movie you see through your own eyes. It makes little difference what's happening out there. It's how you take it that counts.

I can't believe what's happening visually, in front of my eyes.

I admit that the eyes of the intellectually and culturally lively tend to glaze over at the mere mention of sociology, often with ample justification.

The reader becomes God, for all textual purposes. I see your eyes glazing over, so I'll hush.

So much is man the slave of his heart that he will shut his eyes to what does not please him and believe all that he hopes.

I stone got crazy when I saw somebody run down them strings with a bottleneck. My eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and I said that I had to learn.

How is it possible that a being with such sensitive jewels as the eyes, such enchanted musical instruments as the ears, and such fabulous arabesque of nerves as the brain can experience itself anything less than a god.

I can see in your eyes, I can see in your faces, I can see you cry. But what I want to say, there's no reason to cry. Do not, in the name of peace, go in the streets and riot.

Art is always in the eyes of the beholder. Only posterity has the right to point out our mistakes.

People find out I'm an actress and I see that 'whore' look flicker across their eyes.

Any film that supports the idea that things can be changed is a great film in my eyes.

Great occasions do not make heroes or cowards; they simply unveil them to the eyes of men. Silently and imperceptibly, as we wake or sleep, we grow strong or weak; and at last some crisis shows what we have become.

My own eyes are no more than scouts on a preliminary search, for the camera's eye may entirely change my idea.

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.

Far worst of all, the fever had settled in Mary's eyes, and Mary was blind.

You can pick out actors by the glazed look that comes into their eyes when the conversation wanders away from themselves.

But my eyes were riveted on a small slim woman her hair simply coiled into her neck, Katherine Glasier.

A visual image is a simple thing, a picture that enters the eyes.

In short, we cannot grow, we cannot achieve authentic discovery, and our eyes cannot be cleansed to the truly beautiful possibilities of life, if we simply live a neutral existence.

By the time I got home at night, my eyes were so chlorinated I saw rings around every light.