“The beauty of his face, artfully shadowed and lit from the fading firelight, it fairly stunned me.”

“His aster-blue eyes shown out from a face blackened by bruises and soot, his fair hair glittering in the firelight. Dressed all in black, silhouetted against flame, he looked rather like a demon, raised from the dead, trading for souls on the other side.”

“Lo, thou, my Love, art fair;Myself have made thee so;Yea, thou art fair indeed,Wherefore thou shalt not needIn beauty to despair;For I accept thee so,For fair.[excerpt from "Christ to His Spouse"]”

“He looked at the daylight shadows of a yellow hue, dancing with the firelight shadows in blue on the whitewashed chimney corner, but there was nothing in shadows.”

“The lines of fate on my hand, once so bright, faded into echo.The memory of his face in my dreams, once so luminous passed into shadow.”

“When she looked up and smiled at him–a genuine, wide-open smile–it took his breath away. It lit up her face and those beautiful tawny eyes and made her more than just beautiful. Stunning. He’d never thought about the meaning of that word when it came to looks before, but at this moment he’d define it as feeling like he’d been hit with a two by four. Paralyzed but still breathing. Knocked on his ass, but still standing.”