“All the waves in Lucy’s eyes seemed waves of infinite glee to him. And
as if, like veritable seas, they did indeed catch the reflected
irradiations of that pellucid azure morning; in Lucy’s eyes, there
seemed to shine all the blue glory of the general day, and all the
sweet inscrutableness of the sky. And certainly, the blue eye of woman,
like the sea, is not unifluenced by the atmosphere. Only in the open
air of some divinest, summer day, will you see its ultramarine,—its
fluid lapis lazuli.”

—Herman Melville, Pierre: or, The Ambiguities, 1852.