He covered his life with a veil

Young Adam was always an obedient child. Sometimes in him shrank from violence, from contention, from the silent shrieking tensions that can rip at a house. He contributed to the quiet he wished for by offering no violence, no contention, and to do this he had to retire into secretness, since there is some violence in everyone. He covered his life with a veil of vagueness, while behind his quiet eyes a rich full life went on. This did not protect him from assault but it allowed him an immunity.

—John Steinbeck, East of Eden (1952)

'that exquisite finish'

The grass blades of a meadow a mile off, are so far discernible that there will be a marked difference between its appearance and that of a piece of wood painted green. And thus nature is never distinct and never vacant, she is always mysterious, but always abundant; you always see something, but you never see all.

And thus arise that exquisite finish and fulness which God has appointed to be the perpetual source of fresh pleasure to the cultivated and observant eye; a finish which no distance can render invisible, and no nearness comprehensible; which in every stone, every bough, every cloud, every wave is multiplied around us, for ever presented, and for ever exhaustless. And hence in art, every space or touch in which we can see everything, or in which we can see nothing, is false. Nothing can be true which is either complete or vacant; every touch is false which does not suggest more than it represents, and every space is false which represents nothing. . . .

—John Ruskin, “Of Truth of Space,” Modern Painters, I (1843)

'a little glance of grief and lonely recognition'

Miss Amelia let her hair grow ragged, and it was turning gray. Her face lengthened, and the great muscles of her body shrank until she was thin as old maids are thin when they go crazy. And those gray eyes—slowly day by day they were more crossed, and it was as though they sought each other out to exchange a little glance of grief and lonely recognition. She was not pleasant to listen to; her tongue had sharpened terribly.

—Carson McCullers, "The Ballad of the Sad Café" (1943)

you have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes

You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride,
     you have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes,
     with one jewel of your necklace.
How sweet is your love, my sister, my bride!
     how much better is your love than wine,
     and the fragrance of your oils than any spice!

—The Song of Solomon 4:9-10 (RSV Catholic Edition)