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Deep in hollow sockets his hot eyes burned, red with fever. He sat his horse like an old man, haggard and bent.
Deep in hollow sockets his hot eyes burned, red with fever. He sat his horse like an old man, haggard and bent.
Deep in hollow sockets his hot eyes burned, red with fever. He sat his horse like an old man, haggard and bent.
(American, 1882 - 1945)

Deep in hollow sockets his hot eyes burned, red with fever. He sat his horse like an old man, haggard and bent.

Oil on canvas
1912
dimensions unavailable
SUPP2000.1656
known by reproduction only
Death of Orlando Orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and appeared like a creature seraphical and transfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul
Death of Orlando Orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and appeared like a creature seraphical and transfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul
N.C. Wyeth
1924
Image Not Available for In ten seconds his gun was leveled in their gaping faces. "Back!" he yelled, his blue eyes black like a maniac's; "fall back!"
In ten seconds his gun was leveled in their gaping faces. "Back!" he yelled, his blue eyes black like a maniac's; "fall back!"
N.C. Wyeth
1917
His Eyes Burned Bright as Though from Some Internal Fire
His Eyes Burned Bright as Though from Some Internal Fire
N.C. Wyeth
1908
She clung to his neck, looking up at the hot sky, then closed her eyes, for it seemed that the yellow devils of the flood were on them
She clung to his neck, looking up at the hot sky, then closed her eyes, for it seemed that the yellow devils of the flood were on them
N.C. Wyeth
1913
Back and forth across it we went, twisting, straining, holding our strength, each striving to break the grip of the other's fingers on his wrist. I felt his breath upon my face, saw his cold eyes like blue fire burning me.
Back and forth across it we went, twisting, straining, holding our strength, each striving to break the grip of the other's fingers on his wrist. I felt his breath upon my face, saw his cold eyes like blue fire burning me.
N.C. Wyeth
ca. 1914
His queer shabby clothes, his big stooping frame, his sad black eyes, absent almost to vacancy.
His queer shabby clothes, his big stooping frame, his sad black eyes, absent almost to vacancy.
N.C. Wyeth
1910
The girl watched her lover a little anxiously because he was moody. The visitor ate with his eyes down.
The girl watched her lover a little anxiously because he was moody. The visitor ate with his eyes down.
N.C. Wyeth
1916
He Talked with His Eyes--a Single Sharp Shifting of the Eyeballs and a Flash of Light from Them
He Talked with His Eyes--a Single Sharp Shifting of the Eyeballs and a Flash of Light from Them
N.C. Wyeth
1908
Then, climbing on the roof, he had with his own hand bent and run up the colors
Then, climbing on the roof, he had with his own hand bent and run up the colors
N.C. Wyeth
1911
He rubbed his fire-smartened eyes to read . . . the Haileybury Commercial Club's invitation to the public.
He rubbed his fire-smartened eyes to read . . . the Haileybury Commercial Club's invitation to the public.
N.C. Wyeth
1913
His eyes looked as Sabra had never seen them look . . ., (alternate concept)
His eyes looked as Sabra had never seen them look . . ., (alternate concept)
N.C. Wyeth
1929
His eyes looked as Sabra had never seen them look, merciless, cold, hypnotic. "A three-cornered piece, you'll find it, Lon. The Cravat sheep-brand"
His eyes looked as Sabra had never seen them look, merciless, cold, hypnotic. "A three-cornered piece, you'll find it, Lon. The Cravat sheep-brand"
N.C. Wyeth
1929