Stares Quotes

At that, I closed my eyes. I could feel Jackson's gaze on me, even before Matthew said - He stares. He stares. He hungers to know what's behind your false face. The curiosity burns him. -

I turned in to Matthew, wanting to hear more. False face? Is that why he looks like he hates me?

- Loathe/love. Hurting/hating. - ~ Kresley Cole

What strikes me most forcibly in the ants and beetles and other worthy insects is their astounding seriousness. They run to and fro with such a solemn air, as though their life were something of such importance! A man the lord of creation the highest being, stares at them, if you please, and they pay no attention to him. Why, a gnat will even settle on the lord of creation's nose, and make use of him for food. It's most offensive. And, on the other hand, how is their life inferior to ours? And why shouldn't they take themselves seriously, if we are to be allowed to take ourselves seriously? ~ Ivan Turgenev

INT. MINISTÈRE DES AFFAIRES MAGIQUES, RECORDS ROOM ATRIUM - NIGHT
MELUSINE: Puis-je vous aider?
NEWT: Er - yes, this is Leta Lestrange. And - I'm her -
TINA: Fiancé.
There is an increased awkwardness between them.
NEWT: Tina, about that fiancée business -
TINA (brittle): Sorry, yeah. I should have congratulated you -
The doors to the records office open. They enter briskly.

INT. MINISTÈRE DES AFFAIRES MAGIQUES, RECORDS ROOM - NIGHT
The doors close behind them, plunging them into darkness.
NEWT: No, that's -
TINA: Lumos.
NEWT: Tina - about Leta -
TINA: Yes, I've just said, I am happy for you -
NEWT: Yeah, well, don't.
She stops. Looks at him. What?
NEWT: Please don't be happy.
(in trouble) Uh, no, no. I'm sorry. I don't . . . Uh, obviously, I - Obviously I want you to be. And I hear that you are now. Uh, which is wonderful. Sorry -
(a gesture of hopelessness) What I'm trying to say is, I want you to be happy, but don't be happy that I'm happy, because I'm not.
(off her confusion) Happy.
(off her continued confusion) Or engaged.
TINA: What?
NEWT: It was a mistake in a stupid magazine. My brother's marrying Leta, June the sixth. I'm supposed to be best man. Which is sort of mildly hilarious.
TINA: Does he think you're here to win her back?
(beat)
Are you here to win her back?
NEWT: No! I'm here to -
A beat. He stares at her.
NE ~ J.K. Rowling

She stares at it for several moments before taking it out from underneath the plastic film that covers it. Then she holds it with the affection of a mother for her new-born child, tender and loving; Preeti's eyes soften briefly just for that moment. The lava of hurt makes way into her throat, setting ablaze all that she has held within. As memories meet sentience, the apartment echoes with her muffled cries. The photograph, a silent spectator, drenches in her grief as the tears start their descent. ~ Faraaz Kazi

Maria cries unashamedly on my shoulder while I whisper and pet her cheek, but Anastasia grips my other hand and stares fiercely back at our Alexander Palace with her wet blue eyes until it is no more than a lemon-colored speck against the sunrise. ~ Sarah Miller

In the midst of a hive of customers and clerks, a small boy with blond hair neatly parted on one side stares up into the face of a bronze sculpture. It is Cuchulainn himself---the warrior light. The Hound of Coolan lashed to a boulder with spear drawn. But The Hound is leaning to one side and dying in a public hall of the Dublin Post Office. ~ Laura Treacy Bentley

I thought it could be something, I mean, eventually." Harrison finally looks at us. "My life I thought-but I mean ... it's nothing."
"Don't cry" Grace says. "You have a lot of time."
"No, I don't."
"Yeah, you do."
"No.-"
"Yeah! Yeah, you do. It's okay. Look-"
She does something that is so amazingly selfless and also gross. She tilts Harrison's face up and gives him a sweet kiss on the lips and it lasts long enough for him to taste her back, to move his mouth against hers.
Harrison stares at her dumbfounded but he's stopped crying
She is so nice. ~ Courtney Summers

There is nothing to hide anymore. When love looks at you, when it truly pins you down and stares into your soul, it renders you defenseless. And in that moment, in that state of humbling nakedness, it makes you completely invincible. ~ Leylah Attar

Silences of my days
Silences of my wanderings
Silences of my nights
Silences of my loneliness

Silences of my work
Silences of my insanity
Silences of my dreams
Silences of my craziness


Silences of my passions
Silences of my reading
Silences of my obsessions
Silences of my writing


Silences of my thoughts
Silences of my pondering
Silences of my emotions
Silences of my aching

Silences of my stares
Silences of my pining
Silences of my feelings
Silences of my longing

Silences where I truly live
My Silences
Leave me to my silences... ~ Avijeet Das

Why can't I just stay with you?" Liam asks.
Mike stares at him. "Because I'm not a fucking lunatic," Mike says. "And I would become one if I had to deal with you all the fucking time."
"I'm here all the time anyway," Liam says.
"And I'm already one day away from killing you. ~ Taylor Fitzpatrick

It's nice to meet you, Evay.' I hold out my hand.
She just stares at it - like it's a spider crawling out of the shower drain. 'I don't make direct female-to-female contact. It depletes the beautification cells.'
O-kay. I glance at Billy. He seems unperturbed. I hook a thumb over my shoulder. 'So...do you guys want to eat? How about a booth?'
When Evay answers, her tone is airy, dazed, like a concussion victim. Or an acting coach - *be the tree.*
'I have my lunch right here.' She opens he realm to reveal an assortment of capsules that make my prenatals look like baby candy. 'But I need water. Do you have clear water from a snowy mountain spring?'
Wow.
Somebody call Will Smith - aliens really have landed.
'Uh...we don't get much snow around here, this time of year. We have Greenville's finest tap water, though.'
She shakes her head. And she still hasn't blinked. Not one freaking time.
'I only drink snowy mountain spring water. ~ Emma Chase

I twirl away, then back to him, staying on my toes, my hips always lightly rotating. He reacts clumsily at first, but soon the awkwardness fades away and he begins matching my movements, reflecting them in reverse. We dance like this, wrist to wrist, twirl and turn, step for step, for several more minutes. He holds my gaze, our eyes connecting at every turn, anticipating one another's movements.
His pulse is so strong against my wrist that it echoes through me, almost like a heartbeat of my own. My skin warms; my breath catches in my throat. I know how closely I dance along the line of destruction, but I cannot pull myself away. He is intoxicating, his force of life an addiction I cannot refuse. I have not felt this alive in centuries, not since you, Habiba, when you taught me the dance of Fahradan. Ours was a dance of giddy laughter, a dance of friends, sisters, a dance of life and youth and hope.
But this dance is different.
It is not I but he who entices, reversing the ancient roles of the dance. And I resist because I must, because if I don't, because if I give in to the all-too-human desires racing through me - then it is Aladdin who will pay the terrible price.
"Stop." I drop my wrists and step away, and he does the same, still caught up in mirroring me. Except that he is breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with exertion, his eyes filled with a strange, wondrous, curious look as he stares at me. He moves closer, his eyes fixed on mine, an ~ Jessica Khoury

When she walks in that first Monday, of course I am awake - I am always up these days - I decide to lay it down. "Look", I say, "I snort Ritalin. That's what I do. I snort it all day long. I crush up the pills and inhale them like cocaine. I'm up to about forty a day. I can't stop. I am planning to get help, to check into rehab or something like that, as soon as this book is finished. In the meantime, I can't stop, and I am not going to." She looks at me impassively. "I don't care what you think about it. So you have a choice. I can sit here and do it in front of you, or I can keep running into the bathroom so you don't have to see. Either way, it's going to happen, so it's just about how bad it's going to make you feel to watch."
She doesn't seem to know what to say. She stares. I think she is going to cry. I think she wants to give me a hug, maybe, but there is an invisible cage, a delicate netting of glass, an ice sculpture surrounding me that no one can walk through. I'm cold. I've frozen into someone who just can't be touched. I dare you to try. ~ Elizabeth Wurtzel

Our evening-long tango of stares had my head spinning. ~ Jennifer Comeaux

Love finds you in strange ways. You cannot hope to stay out of its reach forever. It surely has a way to sneak up on you and when you think you've conquered it, escaped it; it finds you and blinds you. And when love leaves, it stares right in your eyes and screams in your face 'try catching me now, coward'. It mocks you at the battered state you're in when all you can do is simply cry and ask for a chance one more time. ~ Khaddam Ahmed Khan

And Tria this is Vilenthe." Tria just stares before collapsing onto the floor Ingra looks down "She'll be fine." Vilenthe scowls "She has seen me before. Many years ago before I was selected for the 11th Tournament, she must've forgotten about that but we have met before. ~ Charon Lloyd-Roberts

But Miss Celia the way she stares at me with those big eyes like I'm the best thing since hairspray in a can, I almost rather she'd order me around like she supposed to. ~ Kathryn Stockett

My telephone manners were, well, offensive to some. As I lugged my cell around, yammering away, I noticed cold stares from passersby who viewed me as a kind of techno-terrorist, or at least incredibly rude. ~ Kara Swisher

She gasps at the sight that greets her.

The florists have gone to town. There are wild meadow flowers everywhere, in pinks and whites and blues, all lit by tiny fairy lights and soft pink lanterns.

Yes. This will do.

Ana is stunned. She whips around and gapes at me.

"You wanted hearts and flowers."

She stares at me in disbelief.

"You have my heart." And I wave at the room.

"And here are the flowers," she murmurs. "Christian, it's lovely." Her voice is hoarse and I know she's close to tears.

Plucking up my courage, I lead her farther into the room. In the center of the arbor, I sink onto one knee. Ana catches her breath, and her hands fly to her mouth. From my inside jacket pocket, I pull out the ring and hold it up for her.

"Anastasia Steele. I love you. I want to love, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always. Share my life with me. Marry me."

She is the love of my life.

It will only ever be Ana.

Her tears start to fall in earnest but her smile eclipses the moon, the stars, the sun, and all the flowers in the boathouse. ~ E.L. James

Four shrugs. "So I suggest that you take the next week to consider your fears and develop strategies to face them." "That doesn't sound fair," says Peter. "What if one person only has seven fears and someone else has twenty? That's not their fault." Four stares at him for a few seconds and then laughs. "Do you really want to talk to me about what's fair?" The crowd of initiates parts to make way for him as he walks toward Peter, folds his arms, and says, in a deadly voice, "I understand why you're worried, Peter. The events of last night certainly proved that you are a miserable coward." Peter stares back, expressionless. "So now we all know," says Four, quietly, "that you are afraid of a short, skinny girl from Abnegation." His mouth curls in a smile. ~ Veronica Roth

Good girls hold their heads high by daylight,
Their grace and their virtue soaring with kites,
While bad girls slink along in their shame-
Everyone stares at them, everyone blames.
But those bad girls sleep soundly at night,
Ne'er do their consciences wake them in a fright,
While our good girls toss and they turn-
They lay awake for those who will burn. ~ Anna Godbersen

He leans back and stares down at me, and then I suddenly see it there in his eyes, unconcealed. The lust. The want. He wants me. He's trying to seduce me. I'm so completely fucked. ~ Samantha Towle

But now, sitting on this airplane on my way back to the life I went on to fashion after she left, I think of her differently. I see her so many ways: sitting back on her heels at the side of the bathtub, singing softly as she washes Sharla and my backs; watching at the window for the six o'clock arrival of our father; wrapping Christmas presents on the wide expanse of her bed; biting her lip as she stood before the open cupboards, making out the grocery list; leaning out the kitchen window that last summer to call Sharla and me in for supper. Most clearly, though, I see her sitting at the kitchen table, in her old, usual spot. There is a cup of coffee before her, but she doesn't drink it. Instead, she stares out the window. I see the sharp angle of her cheekbone, the beautiful whitish down at the side of face, illuminated by the sun. Her hands are quiet, resting in the cloth bowl of her apron. She sits still as a statue - waiting, I can see now; she was always waiting. -What We Keep ~ Elizabeth Berg

I flip back to the front, and the stamp stares at me. Shakespeare and Company, Kilometer Zero Paris. And I'm back on the star, that first night. Falling in love with him. And I'm back on the star, over Thanksgiving break. Falling in love with him. And I'm back in my room, staring at this ill-timed book - Why didn't he just tell me? Why didn't I open this when he asked me about it last Christmas? - when I'm struck by a need to return to Point Zéro. ~ Stephanie Perkins

I wanted to scream at those with the probing stares. "Stop calling me a loser! The way I live life is my choice." But I stop short, fearing being labelled a psychopath. ~ Kavipriya Moorthy

Professor Severus Snape: There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few ...
[stares at Draco Malfoy]
Professor Severus Snape: Who possess, the predisposition ... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.
[notices Harry scribbling on his paper]
Professor Severus Snape: Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!
[steps over to Harry]
Professor Severus Snape: Mister Potter. Our new celebrity. ~ J.K. Rowling

The entire room turns and stares. There's no doubt what they see - ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, tattoos and earrings. I don't care what they see. All I care about is what she sees: a person unwelcomed or the guy she loves.
A tear flows down her face, and the hand wrapped at her waist tells me she's paralyzed. In a long gold ball gown that's more skirt than dress, Rachel is truly the angel I believe her to be. A man in a tuxedo stands. "Son, I think you have the wrong room."
"No. I don't." I stride between the tables, keeping my eyes locked with hers. The closer I get, the more she straightens. Her hand falls from her stomach, and the tear clears from her face. Rachel gazes at me as if I'm a dream. I extend my hand, palm out. "I need help."
Her blue eyes lose their glaze, and the hue of violet I love so much returns. "So do I." ~ Katie McGarry

The child inside me wouldn't stop crying. Every time it loses something so important to it. A person or a thing it loves the most, I pretend like nothing happened. But I hear it sobbing helplessly inside me. And the pathetic part of all this is, It neither grows up nor dies. Every time I stand in front of a mirror, it stares at me through my eyes. With its tear-stained face and that intense eyes that rip my ribs apart and the cry of it echoes through every room of my soul. ~ Akshay Vasu

We ought not to have or let ourselves be satisfied with any thought of God. When the thought goes, our God goes with it. No, what we want is a real (subsistent) God who far transcends the thoughts of men and creatures. This God does not disappear unless we turn our back on him of our own accord. He who has God thus, in reality, has gotten God divinely; to him God is apparent in all things. Everything smacks to him of God; everywhere God's image stares him in the face. God is gleaming in him all the time. In him there is riddance and return; the vision of his God is ever present to his mind. ~ Meister Eckhart

Of all the unusual features of Stargirl, this struck me as the most remarkable. Bad things did not stick to her. Correction: her bad things did not stick to her. If we were hurt, if we were unhappy or otherwise victimized by life, she seemed to know about it, and to care, as soon as we did. But bad things falling on her
unkind words, nasty stares, foot blisters
she seemed unaware of. I never saw her look in a mirror, never heard her complain. All of her feelings, all of her attentions flowed outward. She had no ego. ~ Jerry Spinelli

One very good way to invite stares of disapproval in Japan is to walk and eat at the same time. ~ Andrew Horvat

He pulls out the pipe I stole and sticks it between his teeth.
"What do you think?" he asks around the stem. "Do I look noble?"
I snatch it away, and his teeth close with a clack. "Don't you know that will kill you?"
He stares at me a minute, a mischievous light coming into his eyes. Then suddenly he lunges at me.
"Give it back!"
"It's mine! I stole it!"
"I saved you from getting flogged!"
He makes a grab for the pipe, and I roll aside, holding it out of his reach. With a wicked laugh, he tickles my side, and I drop the pipe as I hasten to shove him away.
Aladdin picks up the pipe and brandishes it triumphantly, while I lie in the grass and laugh. ~ Jessica Khoury

You know the horrible life of the alarm clock – it's a monster that has always appalled me because of the number of things its eyes project, and the way that good fellow stares at me when I enter a room. ~ Jacques Vaché

She looks out at the woods through the screen of limbs. Watching in the same way he is, for the same terrible things he is, with the same expectation, with equally haunted, hollow eyes. She's still gripping the butcher's cleaver tightly and her knuckles show through the skin. He puts a hand gently on hers. I think we're good, he says to her. It's gone. We're good.

She doesn't say anything. She just stares awhile. Clutching that glinting meat hatchet in a tight, mudded fist. The whites of her teeth and eyes in the dark. There is no good, she tells him. Not for us. There's only being ready for the next bad thing coming. ~ Jonathan R. Miller

When a long, long time later, he stares down at the silent blue marble of the earth and thinks of his sister, as he will at every important moment of his life. He doesn't know this yet, but he senses it deep down in his core. So much will happen, he thinks, that I would want to tell you. ~ Celeste Ng

"Rachel ... you need help."
I laugh and it's the same bitter laugh I remember him giving when we met so many weeks ago. "So do you."
"I love you." Isaiah says it so simply that my heart soars and sinks at the same time.
"I love you," I whisper. "Did you ever think that loving someone could hurt so bad?"
Isaiah shakes his head and stares out the window.
"What's going to happen to us?" I ask. Because I don't know how the two of us can continue forward. Isaiah refuses to let me in. It's sort of cruel. He's brought me close with his stories of his childhood and with his words of love, but he can't relinquish control. I refuse to be with someone who won't treat me as an equal. ~ Katie McGarry

- And you completely blow me away and rip my world up and everything else, and then you go back to ignoring me."
"I blew you away?" I squeak out before I can stop myself.
He stares at me steadily. "You blew everything away. ~ Lauren Oliver

I don't think you want to know what it looked like."

"No. I do." I shifted my weight to my other foot. These heels were killing me.

Shaking his head, Seth sighed. "You were staring at him like an ugly chick stares at the last cute guy at the bar when they make the last call."

I choked on my laugh. "Oh. Wow. Thanks."

He raised his hands in a helpless gesture, which looked so strange for him. "I told you. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

He laughs and stares up at the ceiling, as though a higher power changed his life path. Maybe fate, luck - or him. His choice. He took the risk. ~ Krista Ritchie

He just stares. He's so quiet.
That's the way we want him.
Still water runs deep.
Not with this one. The only thing that runs deep with him are the holes in his ears. ~ Charles Bukowski

I grab the pillows off the bed and chuck them at the reflection in the mirror of the girl I no longer know. I watch as the girl in the mirror stares back at me, sobbing pathetically. The weakness in her tears infuriates me. ~ Colleen Hoover

I search the chaos - through a knot of Resistance fighters descending on a pair of legionnaires, past a Mask fighting off ten rebels at once, to the rubble of the tunnel, where my mother stands. An old Scholar slave trying to escape the havoc makes the mistake of crossing her path. She plunges her scim into his heart with a casual brutality. When she yanks the blade out, she doesn't look at the slave. Instead, she stares at me. As if we are connected, as if she knows my every thought, her gaze slices across the square. She smiles. ~ Sabaa Tahir

Dragonsbane stares at me for a few moments, her mouth hanging open. She starts to speak, then cuts herself off, then tries again. It happens a few times before she finally manages to say words.

"Are you mad?" she asks me. There's no accusation in her voice - she sounds genuinely curious.

"I'm desperate," I say. "But I suppose the two are close enough. ~ Laura Sebastian

You know the story." The Nalnom rotated his hand in the air as if she should recall it.

"I don't. I've never heard the story."

Joshlon summarized it for her. "Prometheus was turned into a dragon by his angry lover, Naradite. She refused to turn him back into his manly form. He became the first fire-breathing dragon - Naga the Terrible."

Eena dropped her lower jaw. "What?"

"Naradite turned Prometheus into a dragon," Joshlon repeated. "Naga."

"And Prometheus is Edgar's father?" She was sure the surrounding stares were the result of her virtually shouting out the question.

Joshlon answered with some hesitance in his voice. "I don't know who Edgar is, but Edgarmetheus was supposedly the son of Prometheus, the illegitimate child of him and his lover, Naradite."

"Oh. My. Gosh!" Eena exclaimed. "Naga is Edgar's father!"

Joshlon's lip curled. He didn't look like he was following her emotional outburst. "Sha Eena, are you trying to tell me that this is all for real? And Naga is the undefeatable enemy you're fighting?"

Her hazel eyes focused on him instantly. "Oh, no, no, not Naga! Out of all the immortals, he's the nice one!"

Joshlon looked confused. "Naga the Terrible is the nice one?"

"Yes," Eena nodded assuredly. "Edgar is the…" She halted mid-sentence. Joshlon had stopped moving. In fact, all the surrounding Nalnoms were frozen in place, skeptical expressions st ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

What can he tell them? He, who knows nothing. Ibn al Mohammed has not planned atrocities nor committed them. He has never been in the presence of terrorists. Yet Satan's agents suspect him. He is dark-complected. His hair and beard are black. His name is Muslim. Body tall and slender, hands large, their fingers long and tapered. Dark eyes sunken in a narrow face. Irises like obsidian. He prays on hands and knees, forehead touching the floor. Thoughtlessly aligned, his cage obliges him to face a white plastic wall to bow toward Mecca. No matter; Ibn al Mohammed requires no sight of ocean or sky to know his place in the universe. He knows himself as one chosen, beloved of God. A man whose devotion will allow him to be saved.

Standing at the bars, he stares at the plastic wall. Modesty panel, they call it. The detainee wills nothing, attempts nothing, merely stares at blankness as his mind opens toward such signs as might appear. Something, nothing. However little, however great, whatever God vouchsafes is sufficient. The least sign is enough. A crease in the plastic. A shadow cast against its insensate skin, then fleeing, gone. A raindrop: trickling through the roof, one small drop might touch the wall, leave a transparent streak, a tear without sorrow to confirm his understanding of what is and must be. Recognition. Acceptance. By such a sign he will know he is not forsaken. That God notices and prepares a place.

He will not serve in the harvest. He will ~ John Lauricella I 2094 I

Sometimes you almost forgot: that you didn't look like everyone else. In homeroom or at the drugstore or at the supermarket, you listened to morning announcements or dropped off a roll of film or picked up a carton of eggs and felt like just another someone in the crowd. Sometimes you didn't think about it at all. And then sometimes you noticed the girl across the aisle watching, the pharmacist watching, the checkout boy watching, and you saw yourself reflected in their stares: incongruous. Catching the eye like a hook. Every time you saw yourself from the outside, the way other people saw you, you remembered all over again. ~ Celeste Ng

It must be because you're so approachable,' I say flatly. 'You know. Like a bed of nails.'
He stares at me, and I don't look away. He isn't a dog but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It's my choice.
Heat rushes into my cheeks. What will happen when this tension breaks?
But he just says, 'Careful, Tris. ~ Veronica Roth

The leopard in the zoo wanders to the edge of his pen and, through the bars or across an unjumpable moat, he stares at you with contempt for your inferiority, for needing that barrier between you. There is a shared understanding in that moment, nonverbal but no less real: the leopard is predator and you are prey, and it is only the barrier that permits us humans to feel superior and secure. That feeling, standing at the leopard's cage, is edged with shame, at the animal's superior strength, at his hauteur, his low estimation of you. ~ William Landay

If I could, I would ask the world to make me skates so that I could find its frozen water and set myself free to smile, laugh, dance and cheer.

I'd see the boundaries that would be in a world frozen in its place and they would keep me safe, away from where the waters warm, away from the stares, away from the thoughts that melt and tear.

I would ask the world to skate with me, looking at the gladness I had found, knowing, really knowing, there was nothing left to fear.

I think then we would be free to live life as we could, with more in common than apart, the fog would lift, the confusion would end and true understanding would hold us dear. ~ Liane Holliday Willey

She reads the front of the card out loud. "Make it stop." Holy shit. She stares at it for a moment, repeating the phrase. "Make it stop? What in the hell does that even mean?" she asks. ~ Colleen Hoover

She's not quite a mermaid - see? - and she's not quite human. She sits on land, where she has chosen to stay . . . and she stares eternally out to sea, homesick and forever lonely for what she left behind. She's everybody who ever made a difficult choice. [...] She doesn't regret her choice, but she must pay for it; every choice must be paid for. The cost to her is not only endless homesickness. She can never be quite human; when she uses her dearly bought feet, every step is on sharp knives. ~ Robert A. Heinlein

Our children are going to be remarkably stubborn," he commented as they started down the main street of town. Lily tried to ignore the avid stares of passers-by. "We aren't going to have any children," she said. Some instinct caused her to lie. "My - my monthly arrived today." Caleb fell silent, and in a sidelong glance Lily saw his disappointment. She laid a hand on his arm but could not. bring herself to admit the truth. If the major believed there was no child - indeed, no possibility of a child - he might stop pursuing Lily. The sooner he gave up, the sooner she could get on with building up her homestead and finding her sisters. She bit down on her lower lip. Of course, if there was a baby growing inside her, would it be fair to let Caleb go back to Fox Chapel without ever knowing he was about to become a father? The ~ Linda Lael Miller

Brittany Ellis," Mrs. Peterson says, pointing to the table behind Colin. I unenthusiastically sit on the stool at my assigned place.
"Alejandro Fuentes," Mrs. Peterson says, pointing to the stool next to me.
Oh my God. Alex . . . my chemistry partner? For my entire senior year! No way, no how, SO not okay. I give Colin a "help me" look as I try to avoid a panic attack. I definitely should have stayed at home. In bed. Under the covers. Forget not being intimidated.
"Call me Alex."
Mrs. Peterson looks up from her class list and regards Alex above the glasses on her nose. ' Alex Fuentes," she says, before changing his name on her list. "Mr. Fuentes, take off that bandanna. I have a zero tolerance policy in my class. No gang-related accessories are allowed to enter this room. Unfortunately, Alex, your reputation precedes you. Dr. Aguirre backs my zero tolerance policy one hundred percent ... do I make myself clear?"
Alex stares her down before sliding the bandanna off his head, exposing raven hair that matches his eyes.
"It's to cover up the lice," Colin mutters to Darlene, but I hear him and Alex does, too.
"Vete a la verga," Alex says to Colin, his hard eyes blazing. "Collate el hocico."
"Whatever, dude," Colin says, then turns around. "He can't even speak English."
"That's enough, Colin. Alex, sit down." Mrs. Peterson eyes the rest of the class. "That goes for the rest of you, as well. I can't control what you do outside of ~ Simone Elkeles

It's not really a practical dream to have, is it?
He stares right at me. It's intense, being under the weight of his full attention. Dreams have to be practical? ~ Hannah Harrington

Luna stares at each of us, even Farrow, like she's mentally grouping us together as the Hale family.A band of fucking weirdos ~ Becca Ritchie

What's the one thing so terrible that you've never told anyone? The one thing no one could ever forgive?" She stares hard into him. "The one thing no one could possibly know about and still love you? ~ Robert Dunbar

The Goth boy stares at me, and I give him a what-are-you-looking-at stare right back.

"I'm dead," he says in a dull monotone.

"Pardon me?" Adriana asks, but he keeps staring at me.

"You're dead, too. Look at your veins. They're blue." He points at my forearms where dark veins run their lengths. "You're rotting like me."

I glance to Adriana, hands clasped and praying that she won't leave me here.

Adriana's stopped crying now and squints at the boy before standing to pull closed the curtain that rings my cot. "Crazy," she says with an uncertain smile. "You're not rotting."

. . . ninety-nine, one hundred . "No," I reply. "But I will if you leave me here. ~ Michael F. Stewart

Through the damp fabric of my coverall, bundled in my blanket, I feel naked. Raw. He sees more than I want, more than I can bear. It's like standing before him ... while he stares at my scars, pitiless and unmoved. ~ Ann Aguirre

Says the Van Helsing to the stupid Frankenstein's monster, as she stares down the creepy stairs to the basement that looks to dead-end at a stone wall with fucking chains on it," I deadpan. "I'll pass. ~ Kristy Cunning

Do you have a piece of paper I could write on?"

I jump up too fast. "Sure. Just one? Do you - of course you need something to write with. Sorry. Here." I grab him a paper from my deskdrawer and one of my myriad pencils, and he uses the first Children of Hypnos book as a flat surface to write on. When I'm sure he's writing something for me to read right now, I say, "I thought you only needed to do that when other people were around?"

He etches one careful line after the next. He frowns, shakes his head. "Sometimes it's . . . tough to say things. Certain things." His voice is hardly a whisper. I sit down beside him again, but his big hand blocks my view of the words. He stops writing, leaves the paper there, and stares.

Then he hands it to me and looks the other direction.

Can I kiss you?

"Um," is a delightfully complex word. "Um" means "I want to say something but don't know what it is," and also "You have caught me off guard," and also "Am I dreaming right now? Someone please slap me."

I say "um," then. Wallace's entire head-neck region is already flushed with color, but the "um" darkens it a few shades, and goddammit, he was nervous about asking me and I made it worse. What good is "um" when I should say "YES PLEASE NOW"? Except there's no way I'm going to say "YES PLEASE NOW" because I feel like my body is one big wired time bomb of organs and if Wallace so much as brushes my hand, I'm going to jump out of my ~ Francesca Zappia

reflection and his reflection stares back at him. For a moment, he no longer knows which is which. He needs to know. With huge effort he turns his head from the mirror and forces himself to look once more upon ~ Robert Daws

Where's your car? Miles asks, glancing at him as he slams his door shut and slings his backpack over his shoulder. "And whats up with your hand?"

"I got rid of it," Damen says, gaze fixed on mine. Then glancing at Miles and seeing his expression he adds, "The car, not the hand."

"Did you trade it in?" I ask, but only because Miles is listening. [...]

He shakes his head and walks me to the gate, smiling as he says, "No, I just dropped off on the side of the road, key in the ignition, engine running."

"Excuse me?!" Miles yelps. "You mean to tell me that you left your shiny, black, BMW M6 Coupe - by the side of the road?"

Damen nods.

But thats a hundred-thousand-dollar car!" Miles gasps as his face turns bright red.

"A hundreds and ten." Damen laughs. "Don't forget, it was fully customized and loaded with options."

Miles stares at him, eyes practically bugging out of his head, unable to comprehend how anyone could do such a thing - why anyone would do such a thing. "Um, okay, so let me get this straight - you just woke up and decided - Hey, what the hell? I think I'll just dump my ridiculously expensive luxury car by the side of the road - WHERE JUST ANYONE CAN TAKE IT?"

Damen shrugs. "Pretty much."

"Because in case you haven't noticed," Miles says, practically hyperventilating now. "Some of us are a little car deprived. Some of us were born with parents so cruel and unu ~ Alyson Noel

Got a job for you, Seven."
"Yeah?"
"I need you to find someone."
"Who?"
"A woman," I say. "About five and a half feet tall. Brown hair. Brown eyes."
"That describes half the women in New York."
"Yeah, well, the one I'm looking for is twenty-one or so," I say. "She's good-looking, kind of curvy for being so petite... got a red 'S' tattooed on her wrist..."
He stares at me, like he expects more information. "What else?"
I shrug, glancing at the high heels, flipping them over to look at the red soles. "She wears a size thirty-nine shoe."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Shouldn't be too hard," he says, blinking a few times as he looks at the ground. "Only a couple million people in the city."
"That's the spirit," I say, slapping him on the back. ~ J.M. Darhower

A pilot's business is with the wind, and with the stars, with night, with sand, with the sea. He strives to outwit the forces of nature. He stares with expectancy for the coming of the dawn the way a gardener awaits the coming of spring. He looks forward to port as a promised land, and truth for him is what lives in the stars. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Today, take a moment to celebrate you. Your beauty. Your style. Your sense of inner mischief. The way you glow in the sunlight. Your strut in those badass boots. The way the dress hugs your soft curves. The gleam in your eye. The curve of your irrepressible smile. The line of your collarbone. The way you know, underneath all the doubts and insecurities and demons that you are, in fact, magic. And what's more? You always have been. You don't need someone else to say so. This isn't for likes or comments. You don't need to book a photoshoot for this celebration. This is between you and you. For you to take the time to see yourself. To smile at your own beauty. Find a spot where you feel the energy. Where the sun hits just so. Where the colors or textures make you feel more alive, more you. Find somewhere to prop your phone and set the timer on your camera. You don't need special equipment. And then just see what happens. Be open and curious about what wants to be seen. If someone sees you and stares or laughs or has the nerve to judge, you just ground down and rise up even more. They are just missing out on how good it can feel to see and know your own magic and beauty. And yes. If you want, and it feels good, you should share it. Because we want to see you and celebrate you too. ~ Jeanette LeBlanc

Couple stares, couple texts, couple dates. Couple 'I think that we're ready's couple 'I think we should wait's ~ Drake

Because in a small dark room, a broken child lies on a filthy bed and stares up at a high window.
He waits for me, too.
And I - I who have failed at everything and have failed everyone - I must not, I cannot, I will not fail him. ~ Jennifer Donnelly

We did something very simple," Effie says.
"Yes, and what was that?"
Effie Mumford stares off the porch into the night sky. The first stars of the evening are quietly arriving, and Billy, following her gaze, listens as the small girl speaks.
"We allowed ourselves, for one brief moment, to believe in something we could not see. ~ Joe Meno

Here again the Japanese method of interior decoration differs from that of the Occident, where we see objects arrayed symmetrically on mantelpieces and elsewhere. In Western houses we are often confronted with what appears to us useless reiteration. We find it trying to talk to a man while his full-length portrait stares at us from behind his back. We wonder which is real, he of the picture or he who talks, and feel a curious conviction that one of them must be fraud. ~ Okakura Kakuzo

The optimist sees the rose and not its thorns; the pessimist stares at the thorns, oblivious to the rose. ~ Kahlil Gibran

At first Eric stares at Four in silence. Four stares back. ~ Veronica Roth

Repo cast a narrowed glare over me. "You're saying that Banana Cake girl - "

"She's a queen, not a girl."

He huffed impatiently. "Her majesty of bananas is your woman?"

I gave an affirmative head bob.

The three men traded stares, silently communicating with their eyeballs. This time I didn't mind ~ Penny Reid

In class, Laura almost always stares into her lap, where she hides her phone. She thinks if the phone is in her lap she has effectively concealed it. She has no idea how obvious and transparent this maneuver is. Samuel has not asked her to stop checking her phone in class, mostly so he can savage her grade at the end of the semester when he doles out "participation points. ~ Nathan Hill

Little by litter life returned to normal. The barbed wire which fenced us in did not cause us any real fear. We even thought ourselves rather well off; we were entirely self-contained. A little Jewish republic ... We appointed a Jewish Council, a Jewish police, an office for social assistance, a labor committee, a hygiene department - a whole government machinery.
Everyone marveled at it. We should no longer have before our eyes those hostile faces, those hate-laden stares. Our fear and anguish were at an end. We were living among Jews, among brothers. ~ Elie Wiesel

The house is silent now and she feels like a stranger here. "This life was never ours," she whispers to the dog, who has been following her from room to room, and Luli wags her tail and stares at Miranda with wet brown eyes. "We were only ever borrowing it. ~ Emily St. John Mandel

One-night stands are grand & all. But it hardly gives a man time to learn what a woman really likes." I lower my voice. "Like from the way you squealed when I fingered you from behind, I'm wondering how you'd feel if it was my cock taking you that way, hard and fast, my hips slamming into your sweet, freckled ass…. But of course, now we'll never know."

She stares at me, lips parted, cheeks flushed. "Yeah," she says faintly. "I guess so. ~ Heather R. Blair

She stares back into me, as if we are both seeking a humanity that neither of us has. ~ Beth Revis

Mumtaz has six moles. Two are black: behind her ear and on her hip, in the trough of the wave that crests at her pelvis. Three are the color of rust: knuckle, corner of jaw, behind knee. And one is red, fiery, at the base of her spine, where a tail might grow. I touch them and know them because I watch her like a man in a field stares up at the stars, and I love her constellation because it contains her story and our story, and I wonder which mole is the beginning and which is the end. ~ Mohsin Hamid

It's strange, isn't it. You stand in the middle of a library and go 'aaaaagghhhh' and everyone just stares at you. But you do the same thing on an aeroplane, and everyone joins in. ~ Tommy Cooper

There was a moment of silence, and he was aware of the servants' chiding stares. Suddenly, as a group, they broke into effusive compliments in an effort to atone for their master's boorishness.
"You're as lovely as a picture, miss!"
"...no one there will outshine you..."
"...a queen in that gown..."
A hot, troubling feeling expanded in Grant's chest, and he wanted to snap at them for being so ungodly solicitous of the feelings of a professional harlot. But he couldn't... because he was as much under her spell as the rest of them. ~ Lisa Kleypas

shy but handsome fellow is sitting at a club, sipping a cocktail, and sees a beautiful woman seated alone at the bar. After an hour of screwing up his courage he finally heads over to her and asks tentatively, "Um, hi. Would you mind if I chatted with you for a while?" She responds by yelling, at the top of her lungs, "No, I won't sleep with you tonight!" Everyone in the bar turns in unison and stares at them. Naturally, the poor guy is hopelessly ~ Various

Well," I sigh. I glance at Cole. He stares at ~ A. Gardner

Nietzsche, who you don't spend too much time with after the age of seventeen, did have that one great line about "he who stares into the abyss must know that the abyss also stares into him" and I never really understood that until my friend got killed and you really get your head around the idea of what horror means. It's a truly awful thing, to really, kind of have that understanding of things and when you really peer into that. ~ Henry Rollins

Afterwards, we don't head straight back to work. Instead, we stop at McDonald's. Kristy gets a Happy Meal. Cora gets like four pies, which doesn't exactly seem like a healthy, balanced meal to me, but she's not exactly a healthy, balanced young lady. I get a couple of Big Macs and some fries. Arthur stares at the menu the way a time-traveling seventeenth century Puritan would watch a Lady Gaga music video. ~ Hannah Johnson

You have to be mentally strong to withstand the ridicule of other children and the stares of adults. ~ Franck Ribery

Don't you look at me like that, Ror," he whispers. I meet his eyes again. "Like what?" He stares at me a moment, then shakes his head as if to clear it. ~ Danielle Pearl

Man doth usurp all space,
Stares thee, in rock, bush, river, in the face.
Never thine eyes behold a tree;
'Tis no sea thou seest in the sea,
'Tis but a disguised humanity.
To avoid thy fellow, vain thy plan;
All that interests man, is man. ~ Henry Sutton

Then Augustus Waters reached into a pocket and pulled out, of all things, a pack of cigarettes. He flipped it open and put a pack between his lips.
"Are you serious?" I asked. "You think that's cool? Oh, my God, you just ruined the whole thing."
"Which whole thing?" he asked, turning to me. The cigarette dangled unlit from the unsmiling corner of his mouth.
"The whole thing where a boy who is not unattractive or unintelligent or seemingly in any way unacceptable stares at me and points out incorrect uses of literality and compares me to actresses and asks me to watch a movie at his house. But of course there is always a hamartia and yours is that, oh, my God, even though you HAD FREAKING CANCER you give money to a company in exchange for the chance to acquire YET MORE CANCER. Oh, my God. Let me just assure you that not being able to breathe? SUCKS. Totally disappointing. Totally."
"A hamartia?" he asked, the cigarette still in his mouth. It tightened his jaw. He had a hell of a jawline, unfortunately.
"A fatal flaw," I explained, turning away from him. ~ John Green

See," she's saying. "I told you, Heather. You're too nice to win. Too weak. Not in good enough shape. Because size twelveis fat. Oh, I know what you're going to say. It's the size of the average American woman. But guess what? The average American woman is fat, Heather.'[ ... ]
It takes me a while to realize that the breathing isn't my own. When I'm finally able to see, I look up, and see Rachel laying at my feet, blood pouring out of an indentation on the side of her head and tingeing the rain puddles all around her pink.And standing before me, a bloodied bottle of Absolut in her hand, is Mrs. Allington, her pink jogging suit drenched, her chest heaving, her eyes filled with contempt as she stares down at Rachel's prone body.Mrs. Allington shakes her head.
"I'm a size twelve," she says. ~ Meg Cabot

Blue." It was Ronan's voice, for the first time, and everyone, even Helen, twisted their head towards him. His head was cocked in a way that Gansey recognized as dangerous. Something in his eyes was sharp as he stared at Blue. He asked, "Do you know Gansey?" ...
Blue looked defensive under their stares. She said reluctantly. "Only his name."
With his fingers loosely together, elbows on his knees, Ronan leaned forward across Adam to be closer to Blue. He could be unbelievably threatening.
"And how is it," he asked," you came to know Gansey's name? ~ Maggie Stiefvater

One second, we are surrounded by angels holding their swords. The next second, one of their arms drops and his sword thunks to the grass like a lead weight. The angel stares at his blade uncomprehendingly.
Another sword drops.
Then another.
Then a whole bunch, until all the other unsheathed swords fall, thudding on the grass like subjects bowing down to their queen.
The angels stare at the swords at their feet in utter shock.
Then everyone looks at me. Actually, it's probably more accurate to say they're looking at my sword.
"Whoa." That's about the most intelligent thing I can say right now. Did Raffe say something about an archangel sword intimidating other angel swords if she could gain their respect?
I swivel my eyes to look at the blade in my hands. Was that you, Pooky Bear? ~ Susan Ee

At present, however, science, spurred on by its powerful delusion, is hurrying unstoppably to its limits, where the optimism hidden in the essence oflogic will founder and break up. For there is an infinite number ofpoints on the periphery ofthe circle ofscience, and while we have no way of foreseeing how the circle could ever be completed, a noble and gifted man inevitably encounters, before the mid-point of his existence, boundary points on the periphery like this, where he stares into that which cannot be illuminated. When, to his horror, he sees how logic curls up around itself at these limits and finally bites its own tail, then a new form ofknowledge breaks through, tragic knowledge, which, simply to be endured, needs art for protection and as medicine."
Friedrich Nietzsche, "Foreword to Richard Wagner" in The Birth of Tragedy, ed. R. Geuss & R. Speirs, Cambridge, 2007, 163. (p.114) ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

I love you," he whispers before he pulls back and stares down into her eyes. "You're gonna get really fucking tired of hearing me say that because I can't help that shit. ~ Madeleine Beckett

There Rhoda sits staring at the blackboard,' said Louis, 'in the
schoolroom, while we ramble off, picking here a bit of thyme,
pinching here a leaf of southernwood while Bernard tells a story.
Her shoulder-blades meet across her back like the wings of a small
butterfly. And as she stares at the chalk figures, her mind lodges
in those white circles, it steps through those white loops into
emptiness, alone. They have no meaning for her. She has no answer
for them. She has no body as the others have. And I, who speak
with an Australian accent, whose father is a banker in Brisbane, do
not fear her as I fear the others. ~ Virginia Woolf

The principle of [divine] purpose ... stares the biologist in the face wherever he looks ... The probability for such an event as the origin of DNA molecules to have occurred by sheer chance is just too small to be seriously considered. ~ Ernst Boris Chain

He stares down into me and says, "I'll keep her safe."
My eyes well with tears while my lips pull high. "Against the world, Loren Hale?"
"Yeah," he nods. "Against the world, Lily Calloway. I'm familiar with that battle. ~ Krista Ritchie

I had to sever my emotional cord to escape the anger and shame that silently slithered through my head, disconnecting myself from the stares and whispers that followed me down the hall. ~ Rebecca Donovan

The hardest thing of all to see is what is really there. Books about birds show pictures of the peregrine, and the text is full of information. Large and isolated in the gleaming whiteness of the page, the hawk stares back at you, bold, statuesque, brightly coloured. But when you have shut the book, you will never see that bird again. Compared with the close and static image, the reality will seem dull and disappointing. The living bird will never be so large, so shiny-bright. It will be deep in landscape, and always sinking farther back, always at the point of being lost. Pictures are waxworks beside the passionate mobility of the living bird. ~ J.A. Baker

When your house contains such a complex of piping, flues, ducts, wires, lights, inlets, outlets, ovens, sinks, refuse disposers, hi-fi re-verberators, antennae, conduits, freezers, heaters -when it contains so many services that the hardware could stand up by itself without any assistance from the house, why have a house hold it up. When the cost of all this tackle is half of the total outlay (or more, as it often is) what is the house doing except concealing your mechanical pudenda from the stares of folks on the sidewalk? ~ Reyner Banham

In a cage of wire-ribs
The size of a man's head, the macaw bristles in a staring
Combustion, suffers the stoking devils of his eyes.
In the old lady's parlour, where an aspidistra succumbs
To the musk of faded velvet, he hangs in clear flames,
Like a torturer's iron instrument preparing
With dense slow shudderings of greens, yellows, blues,
Crimsoning into the barbs:

Or like the smouldering head that hung
In Killdevil's brass kitchen, in irons, who had been
Volcano swearing to vomit the world away in black ash,
And would, one day; or a fugitive aristocrat
From some thunderous mythological hierarchy, caught
By a little boy with a crust and a bent pin,
Or snare of horsehair set for a song-thrush,
And put in a cage to sing.

The old lady who feeds him seeds
Has a grand-daughter. The girl calls him 'Poor Polly', pokes fun.
'Jolly Mop.' But lies under every full moon,
The spun glass of her body bared and so gleam-still
Her brimming eyes do not tremble or spill
The dream where the warrior comes, lightning and iron,
Smashing and burning and rending towards her loin:
Deep into her pillow her silence pleads.

All day he stares at his furnace
With eyes red-raw, but when she comes they close.
'Polly. Pretty Poll', she cajoles, and rocks him gently.
She caresses, whispers kisses. The blue lids stay shut.
She strikes the cage in a t ~ Ted Hughes