“Mama’s gaze pierced her. As a girl, Minerva had envied her mother’s blue eyes. They’d seemed the color of tropical oceans and cloudless skies. But their color had faded over the years since Papa’s death. Now their blue was the hue of dyed cambric worn three seasons. Or brittle middle-class china. The color of patience nearly worn through.”
“His steady gaze held hers. His blue eyes were very dark, uniquely so. She had known people before with blue eyes, but they had always been light blue. Will's were the color of the sky just on the edge of night.”
“I like colorful tales with black beginnings and stormy middles and cloudless blue-sky endings. But any story will do.”
“She had amber-colored eyes. Or maybe they were blue, and I was confusing their color with her name, which was Amber.”
“And I thought about the color and I realized what blue it was. It was the soft and changeable, essential blue of a well-worn pair of pants.Pants = Love”
“This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes.”