Every so often every artist feels, 'I'll never paint again. The muse has gone out the window.' In 1985, I hardly painted at all for three months, and it was agonizing. I looked at reproductions. I stared at Matisse. I stared at the Old Masters. I stared at the Quattrocento. And I thought to myself - Don't push it! If you try too hard to get at something, you almost push it away.
The lizard stared up at us, and we stared back, taking each other in. He was little and defenseless, I felt sorry for him already. This was a screwed-up place he'd just come into. But he didn't have to know that. Not yet, anyway. There in that room, where it was hot and cramped, the world probably still seemed small enough to manage.
She reached up to place her fingertips to his lips as she stared up at him with a warm, tender expression. "I wish you had come home to me so that I could have helped you." He pulled the cloth away from her face and stared at her for a hard second. "Had I known what was waiting for me, my lady, I would have." -Christian and Adara
I wrapped my arms around me as tightly as I could, and stared up at the stars. Had I not been so cold and wanting to escape so badly, I could have stared at them forever: They were amazingly beautiful, so dense and bright. My eyes could get lost up there if I left them looking long enough. [...] They swallowed me up. They were like a hundred thousand tiny candles, sending out hope.
He had always thought there was an answer to all life's mysteries in the stars, yet whenever he stared at them the answer slipped out of his grasp... But he had to think now, and he stared at the smoke-dimmed stars in the hope that they would help him, but all they did was go on shining.
Didn't your mom teach you to not creep up on a girl in a hearse?' I snapped even though I knew my situation wasn't normal at all, and no mom taught their kid that. He chuckled lightly as he stared at me, humour in his eyes. 'No. Actually missed out on that one. But then again, I thought you would've noticed me, with me having stood here for the past... ' he stared at his non-existent watch, '... three minutes.
Immortal.' Melanie paused and stared into space for a moment, her mouth moving with nothing coming out. 'That is way cool, ' she said finally. 'That probably means you're old. How old are you?' 'Hmm, let's see. I never remember the answer to that question.' Nick calculated for a moment. '819 years old.' 'No way, Jose!' Melanie stopped and stared at him. 'That's even older than my parents!
A shabby looking old man was walking their way. It must be a relative of one of the men, wandering in the wrong direction as they often did. Where were they going to put this one? He was wearing a pulled-down hat and he had a long beard. He was weaving towards her, his feet tripping unsteadily.Even though she could not see his face, there was something oddly familiar about him. She stared hard, trying to make it out. He put up his hand and waved. She stared again. "That's your father, " said Tom.
Landon paced back and forth, his eyes a little wild. ''Well, he took it worse than I did, '' Curran said. ''I don't see what the big deal is.'' ''It's a sword made out of your grandmothers bones, Kate.'' I shrugged Landon stared at me through the windshield, turned around, paced back and forth, and stared at me again
Jesus, ' I prayed silently, 'please fix it so that my turn to read won't come around.' And then the nun called my name, but before I stood I thought, 'I'll bet you think this is funny, huh, Jesus?' I stood and stared at the sentence assigned to me and believed that, through some miracle, I would suddenly be able to read it and not be humiliated. I stood there and stared at it until the children started giggling and snickering and Sister told me to sit down.
John William Tuohy
We all have stories, just as you do. Ways in which he touched us, helped us, gave us money, sold it to us wholesale. Lots of stories, big and small. They all add up. Over a lifetime it all adds up. That's why we're here, William. We're a a part of him, who he is, just as he is a part of us. You still don't understand, do you?" I didn't. But as I stared at the man and he stared back at me, in my father's dream I remembered where we'd met before. "And what did my father do for you?" I asked him, and the old man smiled. "He made me laugh, " he said.
I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth. He didn't fight. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainbow around the rusted engine to the bailer rusted orange, the sun-cracked thwarts the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels-until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
For the first time, they were seeing the dream beneath the flesh. Karla stared at the pointed ears that had come from the Dea al Mon, the hands with sheathed claws that had come from the Tigre, the hooves peeking out from beneath the black gown that could have come from the centaurs or the horses or the unicorns. Most of all, she stared at the tiny spiral horn. The living myth. Dreams made flesh. But, oh, had any of them really thought about who the dreamers had been? No wonder the kindred love her. No wonder we've all loved her. Karla quietly cleared her throat to ask the question she suddenly hoped wouldn't be answered. "Who is going to war with Terreille?" "I am, " Witch said.
Her parents, she said, has put a pinball machine inside her head when she was five years old. The red balls told her when she should laugh, the blue ones when she should be silent and keep away from other people; the green balls told her that she should start multiplying by three. Every few days a silver ball would make its way through the pins of the machine. At this point her head turned and she stared at me; I assumed she was checking to see if I was still listening. I was, of course. How could one not? The whole thing was bizarre but riveting. I asked her, What does the silver ball mean? She looked at me intently, and then everything went dead in her eyes. She stared off into space, caught up in some internal world. I never found out what the silver ball meant.
Kay Redfield Jamison
I heard a choking sound behind me. When I looked back, Cannoli was hanging from the backpack harness with her hind legs circling frantically in the air. She looked like she was riding a bike just above ground level. "Cannoli, " I yelled. I unhooked her and made sure she was breathing on her own. When I tried to get her back in the backpack, she whimpered. I talked to her soothingly yet firmly, then tried again. This time she started howling like I was hurting her. People turned and stared as they walked by. "What are you looking at?" I said to one couple. I suddenly felt true remorse for every time I'd stared at a parent with a toddler throwing a tantrum. I made a vow to be a better aunt to Tulia's kids if I ever made it out of this parking garage. I pleaded with Cannoli one more time.
Torch strode over and stared at the fiver "What's this?" "Some change for you. Buy your flunkies some decent clothes." I dipped my fingers into the jar and smeared think fragrant paste on my face. Torch frowned, mirroring the expression on my aunt's face. "Change?" Oh, for crying out loud. "It's money. We don't use coins as currency now, we use paper money." He stared at me. "I'm insulting you! I'm saying your poor, like a beggar, because your undead are in rags. I'm offering to clothe your servants for you, because you can't provide for them. Come on, how thick do you have to be?" He jerked his hand up. A jet of flame erupted from his fingers, sliding against the ward. I jerked back from the windows on instinct. The fire died. I leaned forward. "Do you understand now?" More fire. "What's the matter? Was that not enough money?
She reached for the milk and honey soap, then poured it into the puff, but when she started washing him with it, he chuckled. 'Uh, sweetheart?' 'Hmm?' Candice mumbled as she stared at some interesting spot on his arm. 'Real men don't use puffs, ' he said, amused and turned on by having Candice's undivided attention. She finally managed to drag her gaze away from his forearm and stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. 'You can't be serious?' When he only shrugged, she rolled her eyes. 'What does it matter what I use, so long as you're clean?' 'It matters, believe me.' Blade knew he sounded absurd but he couldn't help it. It was bad enough he'd let her put bandages on a few measly cuts; if word got out he'd let her use a peach-colored puff and milk-and-honey bath soap he'd never hear the end of it. A man had to put his foot down somewhere.
I don't want to be a widow, I don't want Michael Bayning, and I don't want you to joke about such things, you tactless clodpole!' As all three of them stared at her openmouthed, Poppy leapt up and stalked away, her hands drawn into fists. Bewildered by the immediate force of her fury-it was like being stung by a butterfly-Harry stared after her dumbly. After a moment, he asked the first coherent thought that came to him. 'Did she just say she doesn't want Bayning?' 'Yes, ' Win said, a smile hovering on her lips. 'That's what she said. Go after her, Harry.' Every cell in Harry's body longed to comply. Except that he had the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff, with one ill-chosen word likely to send him over. He gave Poppy's sister a desperate glance. 'What should I say?' 'Be honest with her about your feelings, ' Win suggested. A frown settled on Harry's face as he considered that. 'What's my second option?
He leaned his head to me, his neck so close to my lips, I felt the heat coming off his skin. His breath was warm against my ear. His voice was a ragged snarl. "I miss you." This wasn't happening. "I worry about you." He dipped his head and looked into my eyes. "I worry something stupid will happen and I won't be there and you'll be gone. I worry we won't ever get a chance and it's driving me out of my skull." No, no, no, no... . We stared at each other. The tiny space between us felt too hot. Muscles bulged on his naked frame. He looked feral. Mad gold eyes stared into mine. "Do you miss me, Kate?" I closed my eyes trying to shut him out. I could lie then we would be back to square one. Nothing would be resolved. I'd still be alone, hating him and wanting him. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me once. "Do you miss me?" I took the plunge. "Yes.