Not Blinking Quotes & Sayings

Spring comes to the Australian Alps like an invisible spirit. There is not the tremendous surge of upthrust life that there is in the lowland valleys, and no wild flowers bloom in the snow mountains till the early summer, but there is an immense stirring of excitement. A bright red and blue lowrie flits through the trees; snow thaws, and the streams become full of foaming water; the grey, flattened grass grows upwards again and becomes greener; wild horses start to lose their winter coats and find new energy; wombats sit, round and fat, blinking in the evening sunshine; at night there is the cry of a dingo to its mate. — Elyne Mitchell

And she's here. And said he's here. And she's going to tell him I'm here."
Avery waves her hands frantically. "Shh . . . or everyone will hear!"
We stare at one another in silence, not blinking. Okay, I blinked, but it's not really a contest. — Victoria Van Tiem

Nature is not affected by finance. If someone offered you ten thousand dollars to let them touch your eyeball without blinking, you would never collect the money. At the very last moment, Nature would force you to blink your eye. Nature will protect her own. — Dick Gregory

He looked at her uncomfortably; blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep. — J.M. Barrie

He doesn't like me, does he?" I asked.
Maggie made a face like my words were insulting her. "He doesn't like you?"
My eyes connected with hers for a brief moment. "Not in the way you know I'm talking about."
She shook her head, blinking a few times like she was waking up. "Hi, welcome to planet Earth," she said in a mock cheery voice, waving in my direction. "The place where brains and sound-thinking make the planet go round. — Nicole Williams

You're staring at me."
"I am not. I'm just ... thinking. Without blinking. — Summer Lane

The most difficult thing about shooting guns instantly on film is to not pull a silly face while the gun is going off, because it's always a bit of a shock. So you find yourself sticking your tongue out or blinking or whatever. So the hardest thing is to keep a straight face while you're shooting a gun. — Helen Mirren

Abruptly, she yanked the covers over her crippled one, hiding it from him.
Tohr marched right back over to her, and resolutely pulled the duvet back where it had been. Tracing the badly healed wounds with his fingertips, he met her squarely in the eye.
"You're beautiful. Every inch of you. Don't think for a moment there's anything wrong with you. We clear?"
"But-"
"Nope. I'm not hearing that." Bending down he pressed his lips to her shin, her calf, her ankle, tracing the scars, caressing them. "Beautiful. All of you."
"How can you say that," she whispered blinking back tears.
"Because it's the truth."Straightening, he gave her a final squeeze. "No hiding from me, okay. And after I feed you, I think I'm going to have to show you just how serious I am."
That made her smile ... then laugh a little.
"That's my girl." he murmured. — J.R. Ward

What's gotten into you?" he wondered, blinking in sudden frustration.
"Not you, that's for a certainty. — Matt Tomerlin

Stop it!' I gasp.
'What?'
'That thing you're doing! With your eyes!'
'Um, opening them? Or blinking? Should I not blink?'
'Just- make them less blue or something. — Kiersten White

Take you my ring," he repeated, "and keep it with you." His tone was stubborn, and so I obeyed, sliding the great ring from his outstretched finger. The ring was cold, as his hands were cold, and I held it tenderly in my palm, blinking back the rising wetness of my eyes. "Remember that hawk, Mariana Farr," he told me gently, "and seek me not with your eyes, but with your soul. The soul sees what truly matters. — Susanna Kearsley

The Lesson You've Got
to learn is the someday you'll someday
stagger to, blinking in cold light, all tears
shed, ready to poke your bovine head
in the yoke they've shaped.
Everyone learns this. Born, everyone
breathes, pays tax, plants dead
and hurts galore. There's grief enough
for each. My mother
learned by moving man to man,
outlived them all. The parched earth's
bare (once she leaves it) of any who watched
the instants I trod it.
Other than myself, of course.
I've made a study of bearing
and forbearance. Everyone does,
it turns out, and note
those faces passing by: Not one's a god. — Mary Karr

That pistol I gave you is a piece of crap. You can't hit anything with it, not at that distance."
Staring at her with tears in his blinking eyes, he says, "I did."
Conversation between Alis K and Willy
The Informer — Steen Langstrup

Once i knew the blinking cat could not really blink, was just paper and ink. — Lynda Barry

What parts had she discarded for the sake of her sanity? What had she cut from herself? Had he stared into her pupils he would have emerged, bewildered and blinking, on the far side of the earth. Was he awed by her? Absolutely. Did he respect her? Unequivocally. Want to be anything like her? No, never, not at all. — Anthony Marra

I had always liked darkness. When I was small I was afraid of it if I was alone, but when I was with other I loved it and the change to the world it brought. Running around in the forest or between houses was different in the darkness, the world was enchanted, and we, we were breathless adventurers with blinking eyes and pounding hearts.
When I was older there was little I liked better than to stay up at night, the silence and the darkness had an allure, they carreid the promise of something immense. And autumn was my favorite season, wandering along the road by the river in the dark and the rain, not much could beat that.
But this darkness was different. This darkness rendered everything lifeless. It was static, it was the same whether you were awake or asleep, and it became harder and harder to motivate yourself to get up in the morning. — Karl Ove Knausgard

There is so much to see and learn here that I often find I'm not blinking in case I miss anything. I have to use artificial tears to moisten my eyes. — Jay Woodman

I am so incredibly confused." Blinking away his tears, Darling burst out laughing at Drake's befuddled exclamation from the opposite hallway. With a shake of his head to clear his vision, he leaned against Maris and met his brother's fierce scowl. "Yes, little brother, I'm that confidently heterosexual that I can hug my best friend in public and not feel awkward while doing it." "Yeah, I can hug a guy, too. Just not nipple to nipple." Drake shivered in revulsion. "That's just a little too much bromancy for me, thank you very much." Laughing, — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I will act now. I will act now. I will act now. Henceforth, I will repeat these words each hour, each day, everyday, until the words become as much a habit as my breathing, and the action which follows becomes as instinctive as the blinking of my eyelids. With these words I can condition my mind to perform every action necessary for my success. I will act now. I will repeat these words again and again and again. I will walk where failures fear to walk. I will work when failures seek rest. I will act now for now is all I have. Tomorrow is the day reserved for the labor of the lazy. I am not lazy. Tomorrow is the day when the failure will succeed. I am not a failure. I will act now. Success will not wait. If I delay, success will become wed to another and lost to me forever. This is the time. This is the place. I am the person. — Og Mandino

He turned them into real-life versions of an M. C. Escher drawing, automating them to the rafters, with blinking lights on aisles and shelves to guide human workers to the right products, and conveyor belts that ran into and out of massive machines, called Crisplants, that took products from the conveyors and scanned and sorted them into customer orders to be packaged and shipped. These facilities, Wright decreed, would be called not warehouses but distribution centers, as they were in Walmart's internal lexicon. — Brad Stone

So like--imagine each person is a unit, and each unit makes so many decisions in a day, and each decision takes each unit in so many directions, it seems kind of silly to think we'd never run into one another, you know? Especially considering units tend to cluster and linger."

"Consider this. You're flying in the sky, not in a plane, but with your arms and hands. Like a miraculous bird. You're thousands of feet above the earth, drifting through the night. The red lights are in constant motion, blinking, shuffling between buildings and trees and houses. Old ones disappear, new ones are born. Over time, you notice the lights bump into one another occasionally. Are you surprised?"

I shook my head. "No."

"I call it the inevitability of corresponding units. — David Arnold

I've lived inside every ward of Freedom Incorporated and found I don't like being lied to. Put me in prison; do not put me on the street then call that freedom. Do not force me to into believing block-cut neon red, white, and blue letters super-glued to the tall, outside company wall blinking Freedom Incorporated," chapter seven 'The Problem' from writer Cosmo Starlight's sixth edition novel "Freedom Incorporated. — Cosmo Starlight

*For eleven years, I've been worked over and abused in ways you can't imagine by things you don't want to know about. I've killed every kind of vile, black-souled, dead-eyed nightmare that ever made you piss your pjs and cry for mommy in the middle of the night. I kill monsters and, if I wanted, I could say a word and burn you to powder from the inside out. I can tear any human you ever met to rages with my bare hands. Give me one good reason why I could possibly need you?
*She looks straight at me, not blinking. No fear in her eyes.
*Because you might be the Tasmanian Devil and the Angel of Death all rolled into one, but you don't even know how to get a phone.
*I hate to admit it, but she has a point. — Richard Kadrey

Ian closed his eyes. Beth watched emotions flicker across his face, the uncertainty, the stubbornness, the raw pain he'd lived with for so long. He didn't always know how to express his emotions, but that didn't mean he didn't feel them deeply.
When Ian slowly opened his eyes, he guided his gaze directly to Beth's. His golden eyes shimmered and sparkled, pupils ringed with green. He held her gaze steadily, not blinking, or shifting away.
"I love you," he said.
Beth caught her breath, and sudden tears blurred her vision.
"Love you," Ian repeated. His gaze bore into hers harder than Hart's ever could hope to. "Love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, love you ... — Jennifer Ashley

I'm trying to embroider." Hyacinth held up her handiwork
as proof.
"You're trying to avoid - " Her mother stopped, blinking.
"I say, why does that flower have an ear?"
"It's not an ear." Hyacinth looked down. "And it's not a
flower."
"Wasn't it a flower yesterday?"
"I have a very creative mind," Hyacinth ground out,
giving the blasted flower another ear.
"That," Violet said, "has never been in any doubt."
Hyacinth looked down at the mess on the fabric. "It's a
tabby cat," she announced. "I just need to give it a tail. — Julia Quinn

She turned back to Sophie. "First things first: are your parents alive?" "Yes," she said, blinking in surprise, not sure where this was going. "Good. And you talk to your mother?" "Yes, almost every day." Dora glanced sideways at Scatty. "You hear that? Almost every day." She took one of Sophie's hands in hers and patted the back of it. "Maybe you should be teaching Scathach a thing or two. And have you a grandmother?" "My Nana, yes, my father's mother. I usually call her on Fridays," she added, realizing with a guilty start that today was Friday and that Nana Newman would be expecting a call. "Every Friday," the Witch of Endor said significantly, and looked at — Michael Scott

The frown on his face dissolved, and he shook his head. "No, it's not you, it's me. I can't stop thinking about your breasts and it's pissing me off." His eyes did a rapid blinking thing. "Hell. Tell me I didn't just say that. — Sandra Owens

This consciousness is never still, not even for a moment. It will not be photographed or even named. In its wanting to become aware, it rearranges itself in one pattern after another. Feel it now in the blinking of your eyes. The moisture on your tongue. The gentle filling and emptying of your lungs. It rises unnamed through us, the incessant motion of the four creatures bearing the chariot in Ezekiel s vision: human, lion, ox, and eagle, running and returning. Creation is in us. The plan the Creator used reappears everywhere: — Lawrence Kushner

Dance with me."
Blinking, first at his offered palm and then at his features, I asked, "Why?"
Not immediately replying, he reached for me, pulled me to my feet, and slid an arm around my waist. I allowed him to hold my body against his, fit our hands together, and sway to the lovely music. Begrudgingly, I admitted to myself he had great rhythm. Someone had taught him to dance.
Jehtro dipped his mouth to my ear, his beard tickling my neck as he finally whispered an answer to my question, "Because you want me to hold you, but you don't know how to ask. — Penny Reid

Waiting politely won't get you across the street in Boston," he informs me, "at least not in 1905. There aren't any of those blinking idiot signs that show a hand and count down the seconds for you. — Rysa Walker

But they soon found out that Robert just wasn't personable, which isn't surprising since Robert isn't a person. While Robert was always clean and presentable, brushed nickel just doesn't have the same warmth as a flush of skin from a person genuinely showing interest. And no matter what Robot's manufacturer says, blinking red lights on the cheeks are not a suitable substitute for a coy blush. — Jarod Kintz

Q. How is the turn signal used in Florida? A. It is used to indicate to other motorists that you do not realize your turn signal is blinking. — Dave Barry

The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for the good it did me. The — Sylvia Plath

Speech is often barren; but silence also does not necessarily brood over a full nest. Your still fowl, blinking at you without remark, may all the while be sitting on one addled egg; and when it takes to cackling will have nothing to announce but that addled delusion. — George Eliot

That guys. Sideburns. You like him?"
My back squirms. "You've asked me that before."
"What I meant was," he says, flustered. "Your feelings haven't changed? Since you've been here?"
It takes a moment to consider the question. "It's not a matter of how I feel," I say at last. "I'm interested, but ... I don't know if he's still interested in me."
St. Clair edges closer. "Does he still call?"
"Yeah. I mean, not often. But yes."
"Right. Right, well," he says, blinking. "There's your answer. — Stephanie Perkins

But somewhere in America, between the freeways and the Food-4-Less, between the filling stations and the 5-o-'clock news, behind the blue blinking light coming off the TV, there is a space, an empty space, between us, around us, inside us, that inevitable, desperate, begs to be filled up. And nothing, not shame, not God, not a new microwave, not a wide-screen TV or that new diet with grapefruits, can ever, ever fill it.
Underneath all that white noise there's a lack. — Andrea Portes

But, someone will say, does God not know, even without being reminded, both in what respect we are troubled and what is expedient for us, so that it may seem in a sense superfluous that he should be stirred up by our prayers-as if he were drowsily blinking or even sleeping until he is aroused by our voice? But they who thus reason do not observe to what end the Lord instructed his people to pray, for he ordained it not so much for his own sake as for ours. Now he wills-as is right-that his due be rendered to him, in the recognition that everything men desire and account conducive to their own profit comes from him, and in the attestation of this by prayers. But the profit of this sacrifice also, by which he is worshiped, returns to us. Accordingly, the holy fathers, the more confidently they extolled God's benefits among themselves and others, were the more keenly aroused to pray ... — R.C. Sproul

Have you ever played Killer Bunnies?" she asked.
"Killer Bunnies?" he repeated, blinking the way people always did when they didn't follow her brain's train.
"It's a card game. Not spades and clubs, kings and jacks cards. It's like a board game, with cards instead of a board. Here. I'll show you." She stretched up to the top shelf beside her TV and pulled down a bright blue box. "But I have to warn you, I never hesitate to use the nuclear warheads or the anti-matter raisins. Your bunnies are going down. — Jamie Farrell

The blinking of eyes is an involuntary reflex action, provided they eyes are not watching your beauty. — Amit Kalantri

She stared at me "You have a message," she said. "On you machine."
I looked over at my answering machine. Sure enough, the light was blinking. The woman really was a detective.
"It's some girl," La Guerta said. "She sounds kind of sleepy and happy. You got a girlfriend, Dexter?" there was a strange hint of a challenge in her voice.
"You know how it is," I said. "Women today are so forward, and when you are as handsome as I am they absolutely fling themselves at your head." Perhaps an unfortunate choice of words; as I said it I couldn't help thinking of the woman's head flung at me not so long ago.
"Watch out," La Guerta said. "Sooner or later one of them will stick." I had no idea what she thought that meant, but it was a very unsettling image.
"I'm sure you're right," I said. "Until then, carpe diem."
"What?"
"It's Latin," I said. "It means, complain in the daylight. — Jeff Lindsay

You think,' she said, 'because you've identified one purpose of mine, that you know what I'm doing. But this inquiry among printers was something of a discovered attack.'
[...]
'What do you mean, a discovered attack?'
'A tactical term.' She touched her fingertips together. 'When you make a move, you do two things. First, you move forward - and the space you now occupy has value. But you also vacate the spot where you once were, exposing your enemy's flank to longer-ranged attacks. Be aware of where you are, and the space you'll leave behind.'
'That's not a sense of tactics you have,' he said, blinking down at her. 'That sounds like actual tactical training. Where would a half-blind near-spinster acquire that? — Courtney Milan

Vida was sound asleep when I went back to my room. I turned on the light and it woke her up. She was blinking and her face had that soft marble quality to it that beautiful women have when they are suddenly awakened and are not quite ready for it yet. "What's happening?" she said. "It's another book," she replied, answering her own question. "Yes," I said. "What's it about?" she said automatically like a gentle human phonograph. "It's about growing flowers in hotel rooms. — Richard Brautigan

A firefly landed on Honor's sleeve and began walking up her shoulder, its tail still blinking. As she craned her neck to look down at it, Jack chuckled. "Don't be scared. It's just a lightning bug." He placed his finger in its path. Honor tried not to think about the pressure of his touch. When the firefly crawled onto his finger, he lifted it up and let it fly off, signaling its escape route with sparks of light. — Tracy Chevalier

We only seem to learn from Life that Life doesn't matter so much as it seemed to do - it's not so burningly important, after all, what happens. We crawl, like blinking sea-creatures, out of the Ocean onto a spur of rock, we creep over the promontory bewildered and dazzled and hurting ourselves, then we drop in the ocean on the other side: and the little transit doesn't matter so much. — D.H. Lawrence

Even in rainier areas, where dust is less inexorable and submits to brooms and rags, it is generally detested, because dust is not organized and is therefore considered aesthetically bankrupt. Our light is not kind to faint diffuse spreading things. Our soft comfortable light flatters carefully organized, formally structured things like wedding cakes with their scrolls and overlapping flounces.
It takes the mortal storms of a star to transform dust into something incandescent. Our dust, shambling and subtractive as it is, would be radiant, if we were close enough to such a star, to that deep and dangerous light, and we would be ravished by the vision - emerald shreds veined in gold, diamond bursts fraught with deep-red flashes, aqua and violet and icy-green astral manifestations, splintery blinking harbor of light, dust as it can be, the quintessence of dust. — Amy Leach

And that was it. All this buildup to a great leap, and I didn't fall or fly. Instead I found myself back on the edge of the cliff, blinking, wondering if I'd ever jumped at all. It's not supposed to be like this. — Sarah Dessen

Fred, in the light from the window above, looked for a moment like a newly hatched chick, with his twitchy little head and blinking dark eyes and face open to the world. Birdie felt something like fear then, something ragged and dark lurking just out of sight. Fred could die just like Eleanor did, just like the Wallace boy who'd gone to bed with a headache and died in the night when a blood vessel exploded in his brain. The slimmest margin separated life from not-life. Pastor Hardy boomed on and on. "We must be overcomers — Rae Meadows

[Olive's] left foot was bleeding through a wide swath of bandages onto the tarp it was resting on. The bowl next to her was full of blood.
Olive looked a little pale. "I don't think I should move," she said.
"What are you doing?" Roger shut the door behind him and stood with his back to it.
"I decided I might try to eat my toes," Olive said, closing her eyes. "But now that I've started, I don't think I should move."
Roger pushed himself off the wall and knelt down next to her. He unbuckled her silver belt and reached with it under her dress. He looped the belt around the top of her leg and tightened it. His hands were not shaking.
"Sit on the loose end," he said, pushing it under her. "I hope that works."
"You brought flowers," she said, blinking.
"Olive," he said. "You cut off your toes."
She looked down at the bowl. "Are they still toes?" she asked. — Amelia Gray

The gremlin stopped, blinking up at me with an almost hurt expression. 'Master punish bad kitty?' he said in a pitiful voice.
'No I'm not going to punish the bad kitty,' I said and Grimalkin snorted.
'And you aren't either. I want to talk to you. Will you stay and not run off if we let you go?'
He bobbed his head, as best as he could while his ears were gripped tightly by Puck. 'Master wants Razor stay, Razor stay. Not move until told. Promise. — Julie Kagawa

If you catch yourself apologizing and then using the word but, stop dead in your tracks and back up. That little conjunction should be like a blinking red light, indicating that you are not taking ownership. — Michael Hyatt

He is the dark prince. The all-powerful one. The leader of the creatures of the night."
Then Meena said, "I'm confused then. I thought the prince of darkness was the devil."
[ ... ]
"Wait," Meena said, blinking. " Are you saying ... "
"Yes," Alaric said. "That is exactly what I'm saying."
Jon looked blank. "I don't understand. Is he the devil or not?"
"Lucien Antonescu," Alaric said. "is a vampire. Not just any vampire, but the ruler of all vampires. — Meg Cabot

A button clicked beneath his finger and the noise stopped, leaving only the blinking red light. I was daydreaming, he thought, not willing to admit to himself he slept in earnest. He'd been back on Melis with his children, playing in the meadow where the river bent and foamed. — David Kristoph

I'm sorry, really, to be taking it all from you. Don't be silly. His eyes, large, liquid, remote, were - were whatever is the opposite of silly. She felt no anger at him, and not envy; she did want him to have her house; only - for a wild moment - wanted desperately not to lose it either. She wanted to share it, share it all; she wanted ... He went on looking at her, fixedly and unashamedly as a cat; and there came a flaw in time, a doubling of this moment, a shadow scene behind this scene, in which he asked her to come now, come to stay, stay now, stay always, yield it all to him and yet have it all ... . As instantly as she perceived it, the flaw healed, and No, no, she said, blinking, turning back to the kitchen door, shaken, as though, unaware, she had found herself walking out on ice. — John Crowley

She was not at the concert any more. She looked around the rustic room, blinking. What the hell?
The singer had her in his arms still. There was no balcony between them now.
His hands slid into her hair, keeping her head still. "Not yet," he begged, sliding his lips down her throat, nuzzling her jaw. "There's time yet, Toireasa," he murmured. "Time to say fare thee well properly,."
"We should have returned to Ireland, Breandan," she whispered, as he loosened the ties on her gown and dropped it from her shoulders. The words came to her naturally, even as a tiny voice was raging in her mind, "What on earth are you saying, Taylor?" But that voice was being drowned out by the pure sensuousness he was stirring in her. — Teal Ceagh

It is a commonplace among artists and children at play that they're not aware of time or solitude while they're chasing their vision. The hours fly. The sculptress and the tree-climbing tyke both look up blinking when Mom calls, 'Suppertime!' — Steven Pressfield

And yours? What is your opinion? Truly?" She turned to face me, her green eyes brilliant in the lamplight. "Would it matter?"
"No. I love him and, damn the world, I will have him."
She grinned. "Good girl. And since my opinion doesn't matter, I give it freely: Brisbane is worth twenty Marches and dearer to me than most of my own brothers. If you do not marry him, I will do so myself, simply to keep him in the family."
I turned away quickly. "Are you weeping?" she asked.
"Don't be absurd." My voice was muffled and I swallowed, blinking furiously. "I have a cinder in my eye." Portia dropped a swift kiss to my cheek. "Happiness is within your grasp now, pet. Hang onto it, and do not let it go, whatever you do. — Deanna Raybourn

As long as I'm between home and the clinic I do all right. But out in the real world, I feel like prey. I slink around and can feel people looking at me. I feel their eyes boring into me. I feel what they're thinking: Watch her, she could go off anytime. But within the walls of my farmhouse, I climb out of the protective shell, my arms slowly rise like a phoenix, and I dance, wail, fly around the room and then collapse, crying, in front of my mirrors. I start to see in the mirror what it is I really look like, instead of what I was trained from the womb to see. I do not write about it. I do not talk about it. I do not know what I am doing. But just like a baby bird, I am blinking once-sealed eyes and unfolding damp wings. I cannot articulate the past. A part of me knows it's there, lurking, just behind what I can acknowledge, but it is not within sight. And I am keeping it that way. — Julie Gregory

But underneath it all I tell myself the tiny glow-worm of the Leave event will be blinking. Up to me to surmount the trial, everything is dependent upon my will, impotent, tenacious, helpless, dogged, with a swollen sense of honor, I tell myself. I know me. Not that I'm the strongest as my friend used to claim, but I've always had the strength - weakness maybe - to believe that if "in the end we die, too fast," as he puts it, later on, as sequel, there's a chance that someone-I-don't-know-who - or I-don't-know-what - may come back. No keeping oneself from dying. Afterwards nothing stops one returning. — Helene Cixous

Being in the CBC Studios in Edmonton and Calgary was like peeking into the little room where the bishop gets to eat his lunch. You know? It's the Canadian church. It's the common element that unites every kitchen, every batch of cookies, every afternoon with the crowbar or the mower, every road trip. I walked through the halls feeling like I should tiptoe and whisper, peeking everywhere I could peek - at rooms full of blinking lights, at people in headsets, wishing I could hug and thank them all. They work hard, and we need them so much. We need them to be valued, not only hugged and thanked. — Kate Inglis

Nico stepped into the sunlight, blinking and disoriented. Ugh ... Perhaps the cabin's designers had been right about the children of Hades being like vampires. He was not a morning person. — Rick Riordan

We [Raymond and Meursault] stared at each other without blinking, and everything came to a stop there between the sea, the sand, and the sun, and the double silence of the flute and the water. It was then that I realized that you could either shoot or not shoot. — Albert Camus

We'll be like the MudWings," Clay said proudly. "We stick together. No matter what happens. We're a team, and we look after one another. Which means the first thing we have to do is find Starflight. The NightWings can't just take him away. He's one of us, and we'll search the whole world until we find him. It's time for us to get our friend ba - " He stopped as a heavy thump shook the ground and wings flapped to a stop behind him. The others were staring over his shoulder. "That better not be who I think it is," said Clay. "Found him!" Glory said gleefully. Clay turned around. Starflight stood, blinking, in the waving grass just outside the trees. — Tui T. Sutherland

I hate maps.'
'Really?' She sounded stunned, and maybe just a little bit delighted by his admission. 'Why?'
He told her the truth. 'I haven't the talent for reading them.'
'And you, a highwayman.'
'What has that to do with it?'
'Don't you need to know where you're going?'
'Not nearly so much as I need to know where I've been ... There are certain areas of the country - possibly all of Kent, to be honest - it is best that I avoid.'
'This is one of those moments,' she said, blinking several times in rapid succession, 'when I am not quite certain if you are being serious.'
'Oh, very much so,' he told her, almost cheerfully. 'Except perhaps for the bit about Kent ... I might have been understating.'
'Understating,' she echoed.
'There's a reason I avoid the South.'
'Good heavens. — Julia Quinn

Darkis pointed toward the dwarf sitting btween them on the ground. "Uh, don't you think that's a bit much?"
Turi and Ethis each held separate ropes around the bound hands and feet of the dwarf. A gag was tied tightly over hi mouth.
Ethis considered the prisoner for a moment before replying. "No, it seems a resonable precaution." "Why? What did he do?" Darkis said. The chimera looked at each other, thier blank faces considering for a moment. "He kept promising not to escape," Thuri answerd at last. "He promised not to escape," Darkis asked, his brow furrowed with the puzzle, "and so you tied him up?"
"He wouldn't shut up about it," Ethis replied, his large eyes blinking indignantly. "He kept going on and on about how we could trust him and how he had nowhere to run and how he was glad it was us who took him as a slave captive of war."
"It was unnerving," Thuri finished. — Tracy Hickman

He was the first to reach the aircraft, and he went for the door that by some miracle was facing outward and not into the concrete wall. Wrenching the thing open, and getting out his flashlight, he didn't know what to expect inside - smoke? Fumes? Blood and body parts?
Zsadist was sitting rigid in a backward-facing seat, his big body strapped in, both hands locked on the armrests. The Brother was staring straight ahead and not blinking.
"Have we stopped moving?" he said hoarsely — J.R. Ward

Hermione looked at him, not blinking. It was a moment before she replied, "I know that you served your time on Azkaban Station." She looked out the porthole into the inky blackness of space, twirling her fork between her fingers. "Everyone here is hoping for a clean slate when they reach Alpha Centauri, but that will only happen if we all agree to forget and forgive the past. As far as I'm concerned, you've earned your redemption. — Refictionista

Derek turned to face Stiles, his expression falling into a very familiar stare of utter disgruntled bitchiness. "Would you like more water?"

Stiles squinted, resisting the urge to mutter, ' not sure if angry, or just emotionally constipated,' under his breath. Instead, he pursed his lips and attempted to lay on the old Stilinski charm by blurting out, "I could do with something a little... harder."

It was almost disturbing how Derek was able to stare back at Stiles without blinking once. "I have beer," he said slowly, cautiously.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, echoing the tone of Derek's voice, "...harder."

".... pudding?" Derek ventured, as if pudding was actually a viable option when Stiles was demanding something harder than beer. — Tylerfucklin

Staring isn't difficult. I can do it all day long. Without blinking, if I want to, which is sometimes painful, but always useful. The trick is to not really look at them, but to focus ten yards beyond, on nothing, which produces a glassy effect, which makes them worry, mostly about what's going on behind your empty eyes. — Lee Child

My eyes widened at the ball of orange fluff squeezing out from under the counter, blinking and stretching.
I looked again, not believing.
"It's a cat," I said, winning the Pulitzer prize for incredible intellect. — Kim Harrison

Life must go on, yes, but in the end - after the end - life was not important, just pictures on a screen, absorbing for as long as they lasted, causing us to weep and laugh, perhaps, but when the images are gone we step out blinking into the light. — Stephen Volk

I saw all this around me constantly, there were girls everywhere, the supply was infinite, a well, no, I was drifting in an ocean of women, I saw several hundred of them every day, all with their own individual ways of moving, standing, turning, walking, holding and twisting their heads, blinking, looking - take for example a feature such as their eyes, which expressed their utter uniqueness, everything that lived and breathed was here in this one person, was revealed, regardless of whether the gaze was meant for me or not. Oh, those sparkling eyes! Oh, those dark eyes! Oh, that glint of happiness! The alluring darkness! Or, for that matter, the unintelligent, the stupid eyes! For in them too there was an appeal, and no small appeal either: the stupid vacant eyes, the open mouth in that perfect beautiful body.
All this was never far from my mind, and all of them were thirty seconds away from the only thing I wanted - but on the other side of a chasm. — Karl Ove Knausgard

When I go to the bathrooms, I cannot take off my pants as before; because there is a light continuously blinking like a camera, everyone says it is just an environmental friendly lighting. Well, I cannot really trust it and I am not taking the risk of circulating my naked photos around. — M.F. Moonzajer

Maddie squirmed out from under him. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I know this is supposed to be physical. Impersonal. It's only that I keep thinking of lobsters."
He flipped onto his back and lay there, blinking up at the ceiling. "Until just now, I would have said there was nothing remaining that could surprise me in bed. I was wrong."
She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. "I am the girl who made up a Scottish lover, wrote him scores of letters, and kept up an elaborate ruse for years. Does it really surprise you that I'm odd?"
"Maybe not."
"Lobsters court for months before mating. Before the male can mate with her, the female has to feel secure enough to molt out of her shell. If a spiny sea creature is worth months of effort, can't I have just a bit more time? I don't understand the urgency. — Tessa Dare

Nooooooooooo!" Screaming the word, Amy and Dan moved as one.
Time slowed down, which, Dan knew from experience, often happened when you were in midair. By the time they leaped onto the hood of Fiske's car (oops, dents), and Dan had ripped off a windshield wiper to use as a weapon (probably not the best idea, but hey, he was improvising), Scarey Harley Dude had turned around.
He strode off in his motorcycle boots, moving swiftly to his bike without seeming to hurry. His helmet back on, sunglasses adjusted, he roared off straight into the road, weaving through the thick traffic like smoke.
Amy's face was squashed against the windshield. Dan held the wiper aloft like a club.
And Evan Tolliver stood on the sidewalk, blinking at them.
Dan waved the windshield wiper at him. "Hey, bro. We didn't want to miss our ride. — Jude Watson

Many producers state without blinking that the audience wants a happy ending. They say this because up-ending films tend to make more money than down-ending films. The reason for this is that a small percentage of the audience won't go to any film that might give it an unpleasant experience. Generally their excuse is that they have enough tragedy in their lives. But if we were to look closely, we'd discover that they not only avoid negative emotions in movies, they avoid them in life. Such people think that happiness means never suffering, so they never feel anything deeply. The depth of our joy is in direct proportion to what we've suffered. Holocaust survivors, for example, don't avoid dark films. They go because such stories resonate with their past and are deeply cathartic. — Robert McKee

He was looking up at the stars, but not, I think, because they were so close they seemed suspended between earth and space. He was still, not blinking, because his eyes were filling up like that dammed pool and he was trying to hold back his tears. But the water always finds a way through, even when you pile those stones high and deep - eventually it finds a way. — Vikki Wakefield

Looking back on those days and little leaguer, the Hall of Fame is not even a blinking star, but through baseball travels and moving up the ladder, that star begins to flicker. — Wade Boggs

I love writing in longhand. Writing in longhand, I think, is a marvelous thing to do for a writer these days. If you have a notebook and a nice pen you can go off somewhere, you can write that's solar powered. You can drop it or get it wet and pretty much all of your work will continue to be there. If you suddenly decide to look up a word or check a reference you will not look up four hours later, blinking, finding yourself somehow in the middle of an Ebay auction you never had any plans to be part of. — Neil Gaiman

Indeed,' he said, tapping his fingers very rapidly on the desk. 'Indeed. I'm very pleased to know you, sir. Do me the honour of sitting down.'
Blinking reproachfully at Fen, Cadogan obeyed, though as to what honour he could be doing Mr Rosseter in lowering his behind on to a leather chair he was not entirely clear. — Edmund Crispin