I wish everyone wore rose-colored glasses the way you do.
They wore blue uniforms and queer little caps.
The image on his bicep was the same she wore around her neck.
Prince Vasili's daughter, the beautiful Helene, came to take her father to the ambassador's entertainment; she wore a ball dress and her badge as maid of honor.
He never wore a coat and she wondered if he even felt the cold west Texas wind.
She wore an impish look, high cheekbones and the only lavender eyes Dean had ever seen.
The stocky man was hooded, wore a mask and was already in the room!
She wore a T-shirt and shorts that revealed her shapely, soft legs.
As the days wore on, the drifts gradually shrunk, but before they were wholly gone another storm came, so that I scarcely felt the earth under my feet once all winter.
While he was instantly embarrassed and wore stunned look on his face, he saw no point in denying his activity.
In the king's face, which he wore as a mask, there was a remoteness and inaccessibility of grief which I shall never forget.
She wore a camisole and shorts, her large breasts straining at the thin fabric between them.
"Nicholas, when did you break your cameo?" she asked to change the subject, looking at his finger on which he wore a ring with a cameo of Laocoon's head.
Even the way she wore her hair, with those braids wrapped around the top of her head like a crown and the long shiny blond curls falling around her shoulders and down her back – she wasn't simply beautiful.
She wore a somber look as she glanced nervously at me before speaking to the detective.
He looked small in the middle of the foyer, and he wore an insincere smile like he might any other piece of easily removable clothing.
Darkyn wore her out, and when she'd woken, she was alone.
Dean was thankful they both wore old hiking boots as they stepped forward, gazing with trepidation as the cool breath of the mine met them.
Fred wore an ear-to-ear grin.
Adam and Eve, according to the fable, wore the bower before other clothes.
Next Spanish hides, with the tails still preserving their twist and the angle of elevation they had when the oxen that wore them were careering over the pampas of the Spanish Main--a type of all obstinacy, and evincing how almost hopeless and incurable are all constitutional vices.
A tall, beautiful woman with a mass of plaited hair and much exposed plump white shoulders and neck, round which she wore a double string of large pearls, entered the adjoining box rustling her heavy silk dress and took a long time settling into her place.
Next morning Alpatych donned a jacket he wore only in town and went out on business.
Kutuzov's general expression was one of concentrated quiet attention, and his face wore a strained look as if he found it difficult to master the fatigue of his old and feeble body.
All that was done around her and to her at this time, all the attention devoted to her by so many clever men and expressed in such pleasant, refined ways, and the state of dove-like purity she was now in (she wore only white dresses and white ribbons all that time) gave her pleasure, but her pleasure did not cause her for a moment to forget her aim.
He wore a woman's loose gown of frieze, blue trousers, and large torn Hessian boots.
He was clean-shaven and wore a Guardsman's padded coat with an Order of St. George at his buttonhole and a plain forage cap set straight on his head.
One was taller than the other; he wore an officer's hat and seemed quite exhausted.
The countess was now over sixty, was quite gray, and wore a cap with a frill that surrounded her face.
He wore headphones and spoke into a microphone, simultaneously responding to half a dozen chat windows open on this computer.
She wore the camisole that amplified her breasts, her curls captured at the nape of her neck.
She gasped, recognizing it as the one he wore often, the heirloom passed down through his ancestors.
His overcoat was slung over one arm, and he wore a wool suit over a dark turtleneck.
The same way he wore down her resistance before.
The old prince always dressed in old-fashioned style, wearing an antique coat and powdered hair; and when Prince Andrew entered his father's dressing room (not with the contemptuous look and manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with the animated face with which he talked to Pierre), the old man was sitting on a large leather-covered chair, wrapped in a powdering mantle, entrusting his head to Tikhon.
She flushed, her beautiful eyes grew dim, red blotches came on her face, and it took on the unattractive martyrlike expression it so often wore, as she submitted herself to Mademoiselle Bourienne and Lise.
But in nothing in the house was the holiday so noticeable as in Marya Dmitrievna's broad, stern face, which on that day wore an invariable look of solemn festivity.
Alex wore a light blue sweater that accentuated his dark complexion and Jonathan was dressed likewise.
All of them wore eerie red contact lenses.
She wore an oversized shirt and boxer shorts, neither of which was hers.
He wore nothing but sweatpants, and his exposed upper back drew her attention.
His long, sleek hair was tied in a tight braid, and despite the cold and wind he wore only a long-sleeved sweater that hugged the muscles of his arms and shoulders beneath a down vest.
He wore a snug T-shirt that displayed the roped forearms covered in tattoos.
She wore a soft nightgown and changed into the clothing left for her.
Lacy wore a skirt too short and tight for office wear, but when you're the boss … "I noticed you've been taking a lot of sick time lately," Lacy said as Sofia entered the room.
The drug wore off, leaving her in a dark fog, hot and sweating with a different kind of headache, the kind she got after taking a lot of Dr. Mallard's drugs.
She wore only a long shirt to her knees that twisted to her stomach with her fall.
His visitor wore a T-shirt and had hair the color of last night's sunset.
She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and her blonde hair fanned out over a pillow.
They wore tuxedos and ball gowns like wealthy celebrities attending an exclusive Hollywood party.
He wore a white shirt and snug tuxedo pants that outlined long, thick thighs and a tight ass.
She pulled her hair into a simple French twist, the kind she wore to work, and applied her make-up carefully.
Both wore tuxedos with matching blue cummerbunds, which amused her for such starkly different men.
She still wore the gown, though strands of hair blinded her and she knew her pillow would be filled with makeup.
He wore nothing more than a T-shirt and jeans.
Made of material softer than silk, the black dress she wore pooled at the top of her feet.
He wore black pants that hugged his lower body to reveal the lean hips and long, muscular legs.
Darkyn wore her out enough to where her thoughts no longer spun out of control.
He wore a poker face—one that said he held four aces.
Her eyes were red, her red hair wet and disheveled, and she wore a flannel bathrobe and was barefoot.
She wore glasses, a maroon business suit, and an all-business attitude to match.
She wore no makeup but some alluring perfume made her smell like heaven.
Just under seven feet tall and muscular, he wore all black with weapons strapped to various parts of his body.
This morning, he left a perfectly healthy woman – who looked like his mate and wore the Immortal mating tattoo – and yet was distinctly different.
He wore jeans and a snug t-shirt that outlined his muscular frame.
They wore white uniforms with real diamond buttons and played "What is Oz without Ozma" very sweetly.
The boys wore long hair and striped sweaters and yelled their college yell every other step they took, to the great satisfaction of the populace, which was glad to have this evidence that their lungs were in good condition.
"The piglet that belonged to the Princess wore an emerald collar," said Eureka, loudly enough for all to hear.
A tall man who wore a long red cloak seemed to be the leader of the company.
Colonel Roosevelt was there, on Harvard's side; but bless you, he wore a white sweater, and no crimson that we know of!
He wore a flat gray cloth cap, a dingy wool-colored greatcoat, and cowhide boots.
He wore a greatcoat in midsummer, being affected with the trembling delirium, and his face was the color of carmine.
I had not lived there a week before my feet wore a path from my door to the pond-side; and though it is five or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct.
Like all infantry officers he wore no mustache, so that his mouth, the most striking feature of his face, was clearly seen.
His face wore a calm look of piety and resignation to the will of God.
His cheeks, which were so flabby that they looked heavier below, were twitching violently; but he wore the air of a man little concerned in what the two ladies were saying.
Her face wore the proud expression of a surgeon who has just performed a difficult operation and admits the public to appreciate his skill.
He had no lambskin cap on his head, nor had he a loaded whip over his shoulder, as when Rostov had seen him on the eve of the battle of Austerlitz, but wore a tight new uniform with Russian and foreign Orders, and the Star of St. George on his left breast.
His mouth wore its usual semblance of a smile.
At the time of the meeting at Tilsit he asked the names of those who had come with Napoleon and about the uniforms they wore, and listened attentively to words spoken by important personages.
Napoleon's face wore an unpleasant and artificial smile.
The newcomer wore a blue swallow-tail coat with a cross suspended from his neck and a star on his left breast.
In 1809 he was a captain in the Guards, wore medals, and held some special lucrative posts in Petersburg.
He slipped his arms under the cloak that covered her head, embraced her, pressed her to him, and kissed her on the lips that wore a mustache and had a smell of burnt cork.
Her whole house was scrubbed and cleaned on Saturdays; neither she nor the servants worked, and they all wore holiday dress and went to church.
He wore a fine, dark-blue, silk-lined cloth coat over a sheepskin.
He wore a red mantle, and stretched his long legs forward in French fashion.
He had just finished dressing for his ride, and wore a blue uniform, opening in front over a white waistcoat so long that it covered his rotund stomach, white leather breeches tightly fitting the fat thighs of his short legs, and Hessian boots.
His full face, rather young-looking, with its prominent chin, wore a gracious and majestic expression of imperial welcome.
Makeup was something she rarely wore, but she did have some.
Betsy was alone on the porch but as we approached, Martha opened the screen door, her arm around a frail looking man, about five-seven, who wore an off-center toupee and a fragile smile.
He was fully clothed and wore a light jacket.
He wore a pulled up hoodie, but he was taller than our guy and Howie thought he was younger.
He wore a mask and spent a lot of time in the apartment.
She wore the metal collar that marked her as Darkyn's food source.
He wore jeans and a t-shirt that outlined his lean frame.
Father's father, our grandfather, wore it in all his wars.
With his left hand he drew Bagration toward him, and with his right, on which he wore a ring, he made the sign of the cross over him with a gesture evidently habitual, offering his puffy cheek, but Bagration kissed him on the neck instead.
She was no longer in the loose gown she generally wore in the morning, but had on one of her best dresses.
He wore a long coat and like Kutuzov had a whip slung across his shoulder.
The other four trunks displayed like goods—a moth-eaten gorilla suit, two bloody collections of dresses, and an outfit Dean supposed Frankenstein wore when he went out for a little nightlife.
Faust wore new hiking shorts that exposed bowed legs as white as winter.
He wore an unfastened cloak, wide breeches hanging down in creases, and a crumpled shako on the back of his head.
The youngest child, a boy of about seven, who wore an overcoat and an immense cap evidently not his own, was crying in his old nurse's arms.