Kila mtu ana tabia, matendo, mawazo na akili yake tofauti na mtu mwingine hapa duniani. Usimdharau mtu ukidhani ana akili kama za kwako au anafikiri kama unavyofikiri wewe kwani kila mtu aliumbwa kivyake na Mwenyezi Mungu. Unaweza kudhani unamjua mtu kumbe humjui. Heshimu kila mtu kama unavyojiheshimu kwa sababu, kila mtu ni wa pekee. Kama tunavyotofautiana katika vidole na macho ndivyo tunavyotofautiana katika tabia, matendo, mawazo, imani, maadili na akili. Usimdharau mtu usiyemjua au unayedhani unamjua.

Just one caress became a symphony of passion, insatiable longing, an unquenchable desire to possess.... Gasps... The sparkling touch, embrace make hard to breathe... A mere short burst of brilliance, explosive need...forbidden sweet... Beneath the warmth of a dancing rainbow summer sunset, slowly tuning into the magic night with the stars flooding the sapphire skies...the sacred emerald island wildlife listens to our song, played with loving fingertips, reflected in diving deep into each other's ocean eyes.

I am running and singing and when it’s raining I’m the only one left on the open street, smiling with my eyes fixed on the sky because it’s cleaning me. I’m the one on the other side of the party, hearing laughter and the emptying of bottles while I peacefully make my way to the river, a lonely road, following the smell of the ocean. I’m the one waking up at 4am to witness the sunrise, where the sky touches the sea, and I hold my elbows, grasping tight to whatever I’ve made of myself.

Well, good-bye for now,' he said, rolling his neck as if we hadn't been talking about anything important at all. He bowed at the waist, those wings vanishing entirely, and had begun to fade into the nearest shadow when he went rigid.His eyes locked on mine wide and wild, and his nostrils flared. Shock - pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled. "What is -" I began.He disappeared - simply disappeared, not a shadow in sight - into the crisp air.

Fear   Only  Constraints  Undeveloped                       Strength                      where your eyes look to within,                      is what your heart will believe.

It was said in the old days that every year Thor made a circle around Middle-earth, beating back the enemies of order. Thor got older every year, and the circle occupied by gods and men grew smaller. The wisdom god, Woden, went out to the king of the trolls, got him in an armlock, and demanded to know of him how order might triumph over chaos."Give me your left eye," said the king of the trolls, "and I'll tell you." Without hesitation, Woden gave up his left eye. "Now tell me." The troll said, "The secret is, Watch with both eyes!

He stood there, his eyes like they had been before. Their beauty stabbed at her heart like a great knife; the hair looked so like she had just pressed the wet comb to it and perhaps put a little pomade on the sides; and the small face was clean and sad. Yet her arms somehow did not ache to hold him like her heart told her they should. Something too far away and too strong was between her and him; she only saw him as she had always seen resurrection pictures, hidden from us as in a wonderful mist that will not let us see our love complete.

Hearts In MeIf I look to the world with hearts in my eyesThen surely I’ll be intrigued and inspired.If I touch the world with hearts in my handsThen surely I’ll learn how to understand.If I listen to the world with hearts in my earsThen surely I’ll truly be able to hear.If I speak with the world with hearts in my mouthThen surely I’ll be kind and gentle enough.If I think of the world with hearts in my mindThen surely I’ll be awake to all life.If I reach for the world with hearts in my palmsThen surely its love will flow through my arms

You and I, under the moonlight, together until the stars don't shine any more... The world slips away as we dance in the fire as we had never yet danced...in anticipation of the red flame, that melts an iron will. Void of touch, eyes closed, hearts alive. Spirits flying, the senses aching to feast, souls embracing one another. Entwined together they're joyfully singing. Control no longer of a reality... A powerful union... Luminating us, innocently calling, erupting from within, & spreading infinitely a timeless passion... Eternal Love never known before...

If there is a true measure of a person's soul, if there is a single gauge of real divinity, of how beautifully a fellow human honors this life, has genuine spiritual fire and is full of honest love and compassion, it has to be right there, in the eyes.The Dalai Lama's eyes sparkle and dance with laughter and unbridled love. The Pope's eyes are dark and glazed, bleak as obsidian marbles. Pat Robertson's eyes are rheumy and hollow, like tiny potholes of old wax. Goldman Sachs cretins, well, they don't use their own eyes at all; they just steal someone else's.

Murphy alichanganyikiwa. Hakujua nini kilitokea na kwa nini. Ila, ghafla, alipotupa macho kushoto aliona kitu. Joka kubwa lilitambaa, ingawa kwa shida, kwa sababu ya sakafu, na kumfuata kummaliza. Murphy alijua joka hata angefanya vipi, hakuwa na uwezo wa kujikinga. Alipotaka kupiga kelele ili walinzi wa nje waje, Murphy alishindwa. Nyuma ya joka – katika mkia – kuna kitu kiling’aa, kikamshangaza! Muujiza ulimtokea Murphy lakini kitu kikamwambia aite walinzi wa nje ili waje wamuue yule nyoka. Lakini kabla hajapiga kelele, alisikia sauti; si ya mwanamume. Ya mwanamke!

You think I read your thoughts, but it's your eyes that speak to me. When they glisten with moisture, I see a depth of emotion stirring behind them. One tearful glance begs me for a reassuring embrace. When your gaze glazes over like a misty morning, I know I've lost you to personal cares. A sharp, narrow look will keep me at bay while a wink and twinkle and the flirty flutter of your dark eyelashes invite my company. The strength and duration of a stare gives your feelings towards me away. And when those wary eyes dart to avoid my notice, all of your hidden secrets are betrayed.

Any other questions?""Just one," I say. "What color are your eyes?" I want to know what he thinks, how he sees himself - the real Ky - when he dares to look."Blue," he says sounding surprised, "they've always been blue.""Not to me.""What do they look like to you?" he says puzzled, amused. Not looking at my mouth anymore, looking into my eyes."Lots of colors," I say. "At first I thought they were brown. Once I thought they were green...""What are they now?" he asks. He widens his eyes a little, leans closer, lets me look as long and deep as I want."Well?""Everything," I tell him, "They're everything.

Since 1849 I have studied incessantly, under all its aspects, a question which was already in my mind since 1832. I confess that my scheme is still a mere dream, and I do not shut my eyes to the fact that so long as I alone believe it to be possible, it is virtually impossible. ... The scheme in question is the cutting of a canal through the Isthmus of Suez. This has been thought of from the earliest historical times, and for that very reason is looked upon as impracticable. Geographical dictionaries inform us indeed that the project would have been executed long ago but for insurmountable obstacles. [On his inspiration for the Suez Canal.]

They were a deep emerald green, the exact same color as mine, and they glowed with an intensity I had never witnessed before. A slash of silver crossed each one, the sun's reflection making them sparkle like dancing crystals. The emerald irises appeared to be swirling in circles, creating the illusion that his eyes were never-ending. Flecks of darker emerald clustered around each pupil made my breath catch in my throat. Suddenly, my disheartened mood vanished, almost as if I had never felt sadness before. Something about these eyes held me in place, as if I had found a balance, blanketing me in a cocoon of comfort, free of worries and concerns.