Staring Quotes - Page 2

Concentration is not staring hard at something. It is not trying to concentrate.

Fix your eyes on Jesus; it's ok to stare.

The looks, the stares, the giggles . . . I wanted to show everybody that I could do better and also that I could read.

It's okay to look back, just don't stare.

The canvas has an idiotic stare and mesmerises some painters so much that they turn into idiots themselves.

Do we simply stare at what is horrible and forgive it?

It often happens that what stares us in the face is the most difficult to perceive.

Staring down hard truth takes guts.

I don't know if it's a stare or if it's something I do with my eyes when I'm really focused in on someone or something. Apparently it comes out every now and then.

He passes, struck by the stare of truculent Wellington but in the convex mirror grin unstruck the bonham eyes and fatchuck cheekchops of Jollypoldy the rixdix doldy.

Let’s talk.” I pinned Red to his chair with my stare. I did deranged quite well, when the occasion required.

Every time I step onto an airplane, I turn to the right and take a good, hard stare into the maw of the engine. I don't know what I'm looking for. I just do it.

I do not stare at a gentleman in distress.

Our attempt at focusing must give way to the vacant all-embracing stare

wan i say u ever there i didnt mean to stare but my mind was ever were i wanna know you!

If you have to swallow a frog, don't stare at it too long.

I am Midnight (cats stare dumbfounded)

I really think you stare at yourself and you see things.

Something I've never seen in all my lives. I'm staring at... hope." - Wanda

Romulan or Vulcan?' the ushers asked each guest. Marion, who had been poised to say 'friends of the bride' had responded to the question with an open-mouthed stare, and Jay Omega answered, 'Klingon!" which got them seats in the back row of the Romulan side.

She can't see me staring at her cause I'm always wearing shades.

Bee, why are you staring at me? I am not a flower??

When you stare into an abyss for a long time, the abyss also stares into you.

They don't know I'm staring, what does it matter if I keep on doing it?

Some days, who can stare at swathes of sky, leafage and bad-complected whale-gray streets, tailpipes and smokestacks orating sepia exhaust, or the smaller enthusiasms of pistil and mailbox key, and not weep for the world's darks on lights, lights on darks, how its half-tones stay unchanged in their changings, or how turning wheels and wind-trash and revolving doors weave us into wakefulness or dump us into distraction?