Quotes & Sayings About Someone Staring At You

Have you ever tried to use your eyes to tell someone that you want them, that because of them you're going to do the best you can to survive but that you're willing to die if that's the cost of putting yourself between them and anything that means them harm? That you don't care if they're playing you, or if what you have is really love, or if the two of you have a shot at lasting, that the very fact that they exist has made you come back to life in some way that's terrifying and exhilarating? A few seconds isn't long enough, especially when the person you're looking at is staring back as if she wants to pull you inside her and crush the two of you into one being. — Elliott James

More than once, while staring at the wall, I'd thought of Our Lady. I wanted to talk to her, to say, Where do I go from here? But when I'd seen her earlier, when August and I had first come in, she didn't look like she could be of service to anybody, bound up with all that chain around her. You want the one you're praying to at least to look capable. I dragged myself out of bed and went to see her anyway. I decided that even Mary did not need to be one hundred percent capable all the time. The only thing I wanted was for her to understand. Somebody to let out a big sigh and say, You poor thing, I know how you feel. Given a choice, I preferred someone to understand my situation, even though she was helpless to fix it, rather than the other way around. But that's just me. Right — Sue Monk Kidd

What do you mean I didn't answer your question? I told you everything about me. I told you something personal." My jaw was slack and I was openly staring at him, more than a little shocked by his response.

"I asked about you. Your first and only response was to tell me about your disorder. You aren't your disorder. You told me about all the things you don't like and none of the things you do like. I just find it hard to believe someone like you is completely comprised of dislikes and not a single like. — Nash Summers

She wondered which was worse - living your whole life staring at yourself or waiting your whole life for someone to stare back at you. — Angela Lam Turpin

You can't give someone five hundred punches in a film anymore. You beat on them, and they continue to stand there staring at you. That doesn't work. People just don't buy that anymore. — Dolph Lundgren

I can walk into someone's house, kiss their wife, sit down at their table, and eat their dinner. I can lift a passport at an airport, and in twenty minutes it will seem like it's mine. I can be a blackbird staring in the window. I can be a cat creeping along a ledge. I can go anywhere I want and do the worst things I can imagine, with nothing to ever connect me to those crimes. Today I look like me, but tomorrow I could look like you. I could be you. — Holly Black

I'm not sure whether that had to do with the humor, or with the unfashionable fairy-tale ending, which is very different from much of what I read in The New Yorker, where short stories seem to end with someone staring off at the white walls of a white room, and you think that something's happened but you're not quite sure what. — Jennifer Weiner

Oh well, it's over for you. Call the code at 2:03 p.m."
My eyes widened in shock. "That's what they say when someone dies."
"Exactly." He nodded. "Woman have fallen in love with me after staring like that for only thirty seconds and
I think you just took a full minute. You're doomed. — Michele Jaffe

the world." Jeffrey just shakes his head. "You don't know what it was like. You weren't there when things got really bad. That Haslett asshole kept on calling, and then Iowa, and whenever I went out, there'd be someone just staring at me. It was like I could see my words there in their heads. Crawling there on the undersides of their foreheads. It was like they thought I knew something. And they always ask me, Is it true? Is it true? Did it really happen? And then . . . What's next? What are you working on now? All of these . . . these . . . these - "" (from "The Unchangeable Spots of Leopards: A Novel (Ala Notable Books for Adults)" by Kristopher Jansma) — Kristopher Jansma

How do you make someone love you? For the very young, there can be nothing harder in the world. You may try as hard as you like: place yourself beside them, cook their favourite food, bring them wine or sing the love songs that you know will move them. They will not move them. Nothing will move them. You will waste days interpreting the simple banalities of a phone call; months staring at their soft lips as they talk; you will waste years watching a body sitting in a chair and willing every muscle to take you across the room and do a simple thing, say a simple word, make them love you and you will not do it; you will waste long nights wondering how they cannot feel this - the urge to embrace, the snow melt in the heart when you are near them - how they can sit in that chair, or speak with those lips, or make a call and mean nothing by it, hide nothing in their hearts. Or perhaps what they hide is not what you want to see. Because surely they love someone. It simply isn't you. — Andrew Sean Greer

I mean, why would someone do this?! Why do people fall in love if it means there is a chance of feeling this way? What the fuck is wrong with humans?! HUMANS ARE FUCKING SICK AND TWISTED! I mean, I get it - it feels good, you know? Being in love, being happy." Her body trembled as the tears fell faster than she could take breaths. "But when that magical rug is ripped out from under you, it takes all the happy and good feelings with it. And your heart? It just breaks. It breaks and it's unapologetic. It shatters into a million pieces, leaving you numb, blankly staring at the pieces because all your free will, all the common sense you once had in your life is gone. You gave up everything for this bullshit thing called love, and now you're just destroyed. — Brittainy C. Cherry

Keenan was staring at her, too intently for comfort. "I don't know why certain people shine for others. I don't know why you and not someone else." He gently pulled her forward and whispered, "But it's you I think of when I wake each morning. It's your face in my dreams."
Aislinn swallowed. That would seem odd even if he were normal. And he wasn't. What he was-unfotunately-was completely serious. — Melissa Marr

Lend finished texting someone and slipped his phone into his back pocket, then stood up. I'd never paid much attention to guys' jeans before (not for lack of desire, but rather lack of opportunity in the Center), but in the past few months I'd come to realize that most guys' jeans are really, truly horrendous. Too baggy, too tight, too low, etc. It's like guys don't realize that they can look great in a good pair of jeans. Shockingly enough girls, too, enjoy a well-framed butt.
Another area Lend was perfect in. His jeans choice, I mean. Well, his butt, too.
I smiled and stared at his face, watching his two profiles - the glamour one, which fit snugly over his real one. He looked down and caught me staring.
"Evie?"
"You, my dear boyfriend, are kind of beautiful, you know that?"
"That's what all the old ladies tell me before pinching my cheek."
"Which cheek?" I reached out and goosed him. He jumped and swatted my hand away, laughing. — Kiersten White

Speaking of which," he murmured.
Hyacinth's mouth fell open as he dropped down to one
knee. "What are you doing?" she squeaked, frantically
looking this way and that. Lord St. Clair was surely peeking
out at them, and heaven only knew who else was, too.
"Someone will see," she whispered.
He seemed unconcerned. "People will say we're in
love."
"I - " Good heavens, but how did a woman argue
against that?
"Hyacinth Bridgerton," he said, taking her hand in his,
"will you marry me?"
She blinked in confusion. "I already said I would."
"Yes, but as you said, I did not ask you for the right reasons.
They were mostly the right reasons, but not all."
"I - I - " She was stumbling on the words, choking on
the emotion.
He was staring up at her, his eyes glowing clear and
blue in the dim light of the streetlamps. "I am asking you
to marry me because I love you," he said — Julia Quinn

( ... )"He said we all have this different idea of what love is and that's what makes our circle. The more ideas and misconceptions you throw in, the larger the diameter and the harder it is to connect with someone. We," he said, squeezing Hunter's hand and signaling Margie and everyone around them, "all sit around the edge looking at everyone else around the circle. Sometimes we just settle for the person next to us because it's easy or convenient and we skip our way around its circumference, never really knowing what love is all about."
He took a sip of his Coke and kept his eyes on Margie. "But other times, you see that person across from you, staring back at you, and you fight like hell trying to get across while he does the same. If you're lucky, there's a rope you can toss over and help draw each other in, never looking away, never worrying about those still on the circumference; just you and him, pulling each other in, deeper and deeper." — Brandon Shire

It's even more awkward when we're face to face with people. It used to be exciting to make plans with friends because you could sit and catch up and talk about what's been going on in your lives. Now when you see someone there's nothing left to say. You've already seen the pictures from their trip to Rio on Facebook. You've read their tweets about the latest diet they're on. And they already texted you about the pregnancy scare. So you end up just sitting and staring at each other until you both start texting other people. — Ellen DeGeneres

But there have been other press conferences that last less time than it takes to boil an egg. No doubt you will have heard about the famous 'Hairdryer', the shouting, his ferocity when the bee in his bonnet starts to buzz out of control. It's all true. He's every bit as frightening as is made out. One prick of his temper glands and he will be up, leaning forward, jutting out his forehead, indiscriminately machine-gunning swearwords at someone who has asked or written something he doesn't like. It's the eyes. Those rheumy, pale-green eyes. They stare you down. Your palms begin to sweat. You mouth feels dry, as if you have just swallowed a tablespoon of sawdust. You start to feel pathetically weak. The outburst might last only a few seconds but it always feels so much longer. And you realise you are half-bowing, staring at your feet. It's a degrading experience. — Daniel Taylor

Do you really think I've been murdered?" Michael's voice was soft, but I still heard it from across the bedroom. He stood in the doorway with a rather solemn expression. Words failed me. Would he really want to hear the answer? If it were me, would I want to know if someone killed me? Maybe.
I took a deep breath. "I'll be honest with you. It doesn't look good. The fact that no one knows you're dead yet makes me worry that your death might have been intentional."
I stepped closer to him, staring all the way up into his face. "But if you want the truth, I don't think the reason you died was your fault. You're a pain in the ass, but you're a good guy. I'm sorry this happened to you."
He gazed at me for a handful of seconds before nodding and his hair slid forward into his eyes. For some reason, it was the first time Michael seemed human. He was always so amiable and confident that seeing him be vulnerable felt odd.
"Thank you."
"Come on. Let's go find some answers. — Kyoko M.

It's like taking a photograph containing all the people you love and suddenly some of those people purposely cut themselves out of the picture. And the gaping hole left behind is in some ways worse than death. If their absence was caused by death, you would grieve their loss. But when their absence is caused by rejection, you not only grieve their loss but you also have to wrestle through the fact that they wanted this. They chose to cut themselves out. Though you are devastated, they are possibly walking away feeling relieved. Or worse, they might even feel happy. And there you sit, staring at a jacked-up photograph that no glue in the world can fix. Normal has been taken. Not by accident. But very much on purpose by someone you never expected could be such a thief. — Lysa TerKeurst

Juliette," I whisper. "What are you doing here?"
I'm half-dressed, getting ready for my day, and it's too early for visitors. These hours just before the sun rises are my only moments of peace, and no one should be in here. It seems impossible she gained access to my private quarters.
Someone should've stopped her.
Instead, she's standing in my doorway, staring at me. I've seen her so many times, but this is different - it's causing me physical pain to look at her. But somehow I still find myself drawn to her, wanting to be near her. — Tahereh Mafi

Mother." Alec's voice as he interrupted his mother was firm, implacable, and not
unkind. "Father. There's something I have to tell you." He smiled at them. "I'm seeing someone."
Robert Lightwood looked at his son with some exasperation. "Alec," he said.
"This is hardly the time."
"Yes, it is. This is important. You see, I'm not just seeing anyone." Words
seemed to be pouring out of Alec in a torrent, while his parents looked on in
confusion. Isabelle and Magnus were staring at him with expressions of nearly identical astonishment. "I'm seeing a Downworlder. In fact, I'm seeing a war - "
Magnus's fingers moved, quick as a flash of light, in Alec's direction. There was a faint shimmer in the air around Alec - his eyes rolled up - and he dropped to the floor, felled like a tree. — Cassandra Clare

Why do you keep staring at me?" I muttered under my breath.
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned towards me. His voice was hushed. "You have pen on your face. Here," he said, touching the space by his nose.
"Oh." I felt my face go red as I wiped my cheek with my hand.
"That and you remind me of someone I know. Or once knew. But I can't place who it is."
"I thought you didn't have any friends," I challenged.
Dante smiled. "I don't. Only enemies. Which doesn't bode well for you, considering the fact that you must resemble one of them. — Yvonne Woon

There's a good kind of crazy, Kaylee," he insisted softly, reaching out to wrap his warm hand around mine. "It's the kind that makes you think about things that make your head hurt, because not thinking about them is the coward's way out. The kind that makes you touch people who bruise your soul, just because they need to be touched. This is the kind of crazy that lets you stare out into the darkness and rage at eternity, while it stares back at you, ready to swallow you whole."
Tod leaned closer, staring into my eyes so intently I was sure he could see everything I was thinking, but too afraid to say. "I've seen you fight, Kaylee. I've seen you step into that darkness for someone else, then claw your way out, bruised, but still standing. You're that kind of crazy, and I live in that darkness. Together, we'd take crazy to a whole new level. — Rachel Vincent

If I was talking to someone face-to-face I would always be clear, but with something like Snapchat, you need to keep the flirty banter going;otherwise you'll be staring at an empty red arrow, cringing. — Holly Carpenter

As the carriage whipped forward, they passed the alley she had spent so many days staring at - it was there, and then gone as they careened around a corner, nearly knocking over a costermonger pushing a donkey cart piled high with new potatoes. Tessa screamed.
Will reached past her and yanked the curtain shut. "It's better if you don't look," he told her pleasantly.
"He's going to kill someone. Or get us killed."
"No, he won't. Thomas is an excellent driver."
Tessa glared at him. "Clearly the word excellent means something else on this side of the Atlantic. — Cassandra Clare

I shake my head. "I know," I reply. "You are searching for her too."
We stand for a moment, staring out at the stars mirrored in the calm seas. I know why Magiano doesn't look at me. I remind him too much of her.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, after a long pause.
"Don't be." A small, sad smile touches his lips. "She chose it. — Marie Lu

Getting closer to someone doesn't necessarily clarify anything. It's like staring at an electron micrograph. You're closer but nothing's any simpler. — Sonja Yoerg

When Kai fell silent, she risked a glance at him. He was staring at her hands [which she always holds mechanic gloves over to hide her ... you know, cyborg hands] ...
"Do you ever take those off?" he asked.
"No."
Kai tilted his head, peering at her as if he could see right through to the metal plate in her head ... "I think you should go to the ball with me."
She clutched her fingers ... "Stars," she muttered. "Didn't you already asked me that?"
"I'm hoping for a more favorable answer this time and I seem to be getting more desperate by the minute."
"How charming."
Kai's lips twitched. "Please?"
"Why?"
"Why not?"
"I mean, why me?"
Kai hooked his thumbs on his pockets. "So if my escape hover breaks down, I'll have someone to fix it? — Marissa Meyer

The moment when you dream of someone deeply at night and in the morning you see that person staring and smiling at you.
For me there is no word to express that feeling. — M.F. Moonzajer

Why am I impatient I am unsure for what is patience? And why should I ultimately feel that I am lacking in it.
Is it timing? Waiting?
Abstaining?
Obligation?
Longing?
Torture?
Perseverance?
Discipline?
Wanting?
Someone recently referred to it as a staring contest between yourself, fate, god and chance. He also referred to it as a tease, a flirt. It's staring at her image when you want to hear her voice, feel her breath, taste her skin. Patience is the recovery from a really hot dream interrupted by the damn alarm clock. Patience is a hard cock with bound hands. — LEONORA MORRISON

You're a rule person," he said.
"My sister was a cheater. It sort of became necessary."
"She cheated at this game?"
"She cheated ateverything ," I said. "When we played Monopoly, she always
insisted on being banker,
then helped herself to multiple loans and 'service fees' for every real estate
transaction. I was, like, ten or
eleven before I played at someone else's house and they told me you couldn't do
that."
He laughed, the sound seeming loud in all the quiet. I felt myself smiling,
remembering.
"During staring contests," I said, "she always blinked.Always . But then she'd
swear up and down she
hadn't, and make you go again, and again. And when we played Truth, she lied.
Blatantly. — Sarah Dessen

Staring into someone's eyes for a long time is psychic. At first it's very strange and scary - scarier than the first time you have sex. Then you begin to relax, and the person you're looking at may become very beautiful. As you look into their eyes, you may see them change sex or race. You can see the child in an old person and a young person may appear ancient. Just looking into someone's eyes for a long time can be trippier than taking acid. — Steve Abbott

The big man shifted in his seat, appearing uncomfortable. "Do you really believe we would eliminate someone you're in love with?"
I sputtered. "I'm not - "
Ari held up a hand. "He's helping you, then. That's important to us."
Staring at him in shock, I finally asked, "Love trumps logic?"
"Every time," Valek said. — Maria V. Snyder