First Sight Quotes

“He closed his eyes. The insides of his eyelids were a brownish black, not at all the same as the thick purple of the night. Darkness had so many colors. It was strange, that, and perhaps a little disquieting. But—

―Oh!‖

A foot slammed into his left calf, and he opened his eyes just in time to see a woman tumbling backward.

Right onto his blanket.

He smiled. The gods still loved him.”
― Julia Quinn, Ten Things I Love About You

“He'd caught only a few brief glimpses of her without the mask over the course of the day, but he could see her clearly now, an outrageously beautiful woman who vibrated with energy. With her dark hair now an unbound mass of curls falling softly around her shoulders, full mouth curved in a smile, dark eyes sparkling, she was the kind of woman who stirred a man's blood. He couldn't tear his gaze away.”
― Sara Desai, The Singles Table

“When their eyes connected she tilted her head slightly…paused, and smiled. It was as if she needed to see him at a different angle to insure that her instant desire wasn’t a vanishing mirage”
― Carl Henegan, Darkness Left Undone

“Even from a distance, she had a sort of glow around her, the glow of the sort of girl who would never talk to Percy. Who would usually look right through him. But there she was, looking.”
― H.L. Burke, An Ordinary Knight: A Fairy Cursed Fable

“It was too dark to see but I froze in the glow of bright grey eyes that almost appeared white in the moonlight.”
― E.J. Harington

“People who fell in love at first sight, rushed home to their parents to tell them the good news and subsequently married were, [Patricia Highsmith] thought, retarded. Rather, a more honest appraisal of the nature of love positions it nearer to the horrors of mental illness. How else could you explain the fact that so many people were prepared to sacrifice the safety and cosiness of their lives for the thrill of a new romance?”
― Andrew Wilson, Patricia Highsmith, ζωή στο σκοτάδι

“We were the only two people in the entire airport who lost total track of time, for we were consumed by space-time at that present moment. Time was irrelevant to our existence, for we didn’t want to exist outside the tight and glorious knots of each other’s arms. Time is basically an illusion created by the mind to aid in our sense of temporal presence in the vast ocean of space. Without the neurons to create a virtual perception of the past and the future based on all our experiences, there is no actual existence of the past and the future. All that there is, is the present.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Love, God & Neurons: Memoir of a scientist who found himself by getting lost

“You looked like a night star in your sparkly dress and you had a beautiful smile on your face and there was mischief in your eyes and you wore defiance like a crown, challenging anyone who would dare stand in your way.”
― Ninya Tippett

“Lust at first sight" is prevalent and regularly confused for love.”
― Crista Beck

“Delicious shivers slid down her spine as she assessed his cool, sensual face. His eyes were the deepest shade of brown, dark like the forest floor she'd hidden on before she'd taken a chance to claim victory for her team. A hint of a cleft in his chin and full lips in a beautifully shaped mouth softened what might have otherwise been a severe expression. As his gaze raked up and down her body, her nipples tightened and she crossed her arms over her chest, silently thanking the '80s for her massive puffball sleeves.”
― Sara Desai, The Singles Table

“He stopped, stood perfectly still, closed his eyes, breathed in the scent.
He could catch the thinnest glimpse of a girl in the sliver of air between the curtain and the partition. She was small, dressed in art school standard-issue basic black, with an ass like an upside-down heart. But her hair. Oh, her hair. It cascaded in a fall of loose curls down her back, not red, not blonde, not brown, and yet all of them mixed together, trailing off at her waist. With a pang, he imagined the colors he would have used to paint it, in the years when he could still paint; golden ochre, terra rossa, raw sienna.”
― Helen Maryles Shankman, The Color of Light