A Quote by Kathryn Stockett
He let out a long sorry sigh and I love that look on his face, that disappointment. I understand now why girls resist,just for that sweet look of regret.
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When I look at someone's face, I look beyond that face and into the cellular memory in my heart that says, 'Finally you and I have met again. And now we must find out why'.
Look at His adorable face. Look at His glazed and sunken eyes. Look at His wounds. Look Jesus in the Face. There, you will see how He loves us.
I don't think he likes girls", I said. "Or boys. Look at the horror on his face. He doesn't look like a people person.
I think it is very important that you like yourself for who you are and not want to look like anyone else. You also have to understand, many people have had cosmetic surgeries in order to look the way they look. So why look like them when you can just look like you? And there is nothing wrong with looking like you.
Look, it's a monster. He's walking alone. Look, he's pulling something out of his pocket. He threw it on the ground. Let's go see what it is. It's a black box. You open it... ok... Look, it's sorrow, misery and pain. It's loneliness and longing. Boy, he'll be sorry he lost these.
I always look up to girls like Beyonce or Anna Kournikova. Girls who do something well but also look good. I think every girl loves to feel sexy and, sure, there's some creeps out there, but I'm putting myself out there. I guess I'm just working with what I have.
I wish I could just make you turn around, turn around and see me cry
There's so much I need to say to you, so many reasons why
You're the only one who really knew me at all
So take a look at me now, 'cos there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face
Take a look at me now, 'cos there's just an empty space
And you coming back to me is against all odds and that's what I've got to face
When he turned to face her, the drawn look on his face was one of absolute agony as if Luce had just ripped his heart out
You changed the subject." "From what?" "The empty-headed girls who think you're sexy." "You know." "Know what?" "That I only have eyes for you." Laila swooned inside. She tried to read his face but was met by a look that was indecipherable: the cheerful, cretinous grin at odds with the narrow, half desperate look in his eyes. A clever look, calculated to fall precisely at the midpoint between mockery and sincerity
Regret is not an apology. I regret that I ran the stop sign, right, but, yeah, I'm not sorry for what I speaking. I regret that because I got a ticket. You can regret things and still not be sorry for them.
Do you suppose you will look the same when you are an old woman as you do now? Most folk have three faces—the face they get when they’re children, the face they own when they’re grown, and the face they’ve earned when they’re old. But when you live as long as I have, you get many more. I look nothing like I did when I was a wee thing of thirteen. You get the face you build your whole life, with work and loving and grieving and laughing and frowning.
I'm now in my mid-thirties, so I look in the mirror and my face is changing, and I have a different relationship all of a sudden with myself. Your face changes, things change - that's just kind of what happens. It's hard, though, in this industry, because I think so much importance is put on how you look, and I'm not brave enough to be like, "You know what? I'm just going to let it happen. Whatever. I'm so cool with every line on my face."
Girls my age dress so much raunchier than I'd ever imagine myself dressing. I understand that I'm a role model, though, and I have to look out for that. I have a 10-year-old sister, too. But you also want to be appealing to guys and stuff, that's just something girls feel. It's hard. You want to be that girl that's unattainable to all the guys because there are so many other girls out there that are like that.
Even now if I see someone working out, in great shape, like a 40-year-old guy with his shirt off jogging I always think, "Look at that idiot." That's why everyone in my movie is kind of goofy because I'm a champion of the goofball. What sucks is I have to work out now not to die. I was always happy not working out because I never wanted to be someone who worked out to look good, but now I have to try to not die, which is such a drag.
A writer can be identified just through his sigh, as a mouthful of words are flooded out in his single sigh.
I turned my face up to his. I could hardly look at him the same way. I was crying without realizing I'd started. "You made a deal with Hank. You saved my life. Why would you do that for me?" "Angel," he murmured, clasping my face between his hands. "I don't think you understand the lengths I would go to if it means keeping you here with me.
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