“Kiss me with your eyes.”

— Andy Warhol

Last update June 3, 2021. History

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Andy Warhol133

American artist 1928–1987

Andy Warhol quote: “Kiss me with your eyes.”

Philostratus (170) Lucius Flavius Philostratus, Greek sophist of Roman imperial period

XXIV. Quoted in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 801-03.
Letters

“Kiss me again, but don't let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer--but yours! How can I?”

Emily Brontë book Wuthering Heights

Source: Wuthering Heights

“It is hard to forgive, and to look at those eyes, and feel those wasted hands,' he answered. 'Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?”

Emily Brontë book Wuthering Heights

Source: Wuthering Heights

“Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, Tomorrow I'll miss you.”

Paul McCartney (1942) English singer-songwriter and composer

“The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space.”

Marilyn Monroe (1926–1962) American actress, model, and singer

“Your kisses are thieves which leave me wanting nothing.”

Vanna Bonta (1958–2014) Italian-American writer, poet, inventor, actress, voice artist (1958-2014)

"Your Kisses Are Thieves"
Rewards of Passion (Sheer Poetry) (1981)

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I'll not look for wine.”

Ben Jonson To Celia

Song, To Celia, lines 1-16; this poem was inspired by "Letter XXIV" of Philostratus, which in translation reads: "Drink to me with your eyes alone…. And if you will, take the cup to your lips and fill it with kisses, and give it so to me".
The Works of Ben Jonson, First Folio (1616), The Forest
Context: Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honoring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
And sent'st it back to me;
Since when it grows and smells, I swear,
Not of itself, but thee.