Top 1200 Staring Out The Window Quotes & Sayings - Page 20

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Last updated on April 16, 2025.
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They say the eyes are the window to the soul.
I wrote about Bosnia at the time. Somebody looked out their window and saw gangsters coming down the street and doing ethnic cleansing. I said that was the thing that would happen in the future, someone phoning in what they were seeing on the scene. Whether it's the Huffington Post, the Daily Beast, Drudge Report or the BBC, all those reports, you have to assume there's a real person [who] has credibility.
The eyes are the window to where the soul is supposed to be. — © Tina Fey
The eyes are the window to where the soul is supposed to be.
I'm not much into rear window ethics.
Oh, I can never get enough," he said. "Which, incidentally, is what your sister said to me when - " The carriage door flew open. A hand shot out, grabbed Will by the back of the shirt, and hauled him inside. The door banged shut after him, and Thomas, sitting bolt upright, seized reins of the horses. A moment later the carriage had lurched forth into the night, leaving Gabriel staring, infuriated, after it.
I just don't like to lose what's in the window.
Oftentimes, when I'm trying to get inspired, I'll find myself just staring at the wall and let the fans inspire me to get creative.
As science went further and further into the external world, they ended up inside the atom where to their surprise they saw consciousness staring them in the face!
Being in front of all these people staring at you and it helps you to dig down and become more emotional and get lost in it as you're feeding on people's energy.
I can't live in a room without a window.
Every door opens to something and it is better to go toward that something than to sit staring at the blank wall of time.
In San Francisco - life goes on. Hope rises and dreams flicker and die. Love plans for tomorrow and loneliness thinks of yesterday. Life is beautiful and living is pain. The sound of music floats down a dark street. A young girl looks out a window and wishes she were married. A drunk sleeps under a bridge. It is tomorrow.
In the same way that a tornado rips the roof off a double-wide trailer, leaving the occupants dazed and staring at the clouds from the splinters of what used to be their living room, it was over.
Anytime you walk onto a stage or something where there's lots of people staring at you, you need to have something inspiring inside your head. Bolstering. — © Kristin Bauer van Straten
Anytime you walk onto a stage or something where there's lots of people staring at you, you need to have something inspiring inside your head. Bolstering.
We're fighters. We go out there, and we'll open a window of opportunity, and they're only open for so long, and we have to take advantage of that time right then. When I did it, I was 30-31 years old. Maybe it was a little too late that I should have did it, but I did it right. I was okay with the money that I got, the money that I made.
The roughest part for me when I'm writing a song is staring at a blank page. Where am I going from here? If you're a songwriter, you have to do that every time you start a song.
I looked back, but Bast and Sadie seemed fine. They were still staring at the water as if it were some amazing Internet video.
I shall never forget what I saw at the Museum of Modern Art: in a spotless schoolroom, fifty little girls painting away at tables covered with brushes, pots, tubes, bowls, staring into space and sticking out their tongues like the clever animals that ring a bell, tongues lolling and eyes vague. Teachers supervise these young creators of abstract art and slap their wrists if what they paint represents something and dangerously inclines toward realism. The mothers - still at the Picasso stage - are not admitted.
I didn't realize how different our band's senses of melody actually were. I would write a part that just made perfect sense to me, but for them, it was mind-boggling. Likewise, they could play stuff with relative ease that I never could have. If there was something lost in translation melodically, it wouldn't work at all - we'd just be 17 people in a giant room staring awkwardly at each other. When that happened, I'd go home, figure out what was wrong, fix it, and then return to smooth sailing.
I have always loved a window, especially an open one.
As a historian, I love every little detail, but whole long passages about wood paneling and journeys on horseback and every stop at every inn had to go out the window. I decided the history in the books should be like spice in a soup - a little went a long way. Like cilantro.
I walked to the lake and sat on the shore for a few minutes, just staring at the moonlight on the water. Moonlight never gets old.
I vividly remember my sixth-grade classroom. I remember what it smelled like, where I sat, what I could see out the window, and how I felt about things. Peel away my decrepit middle-aged exterior, and an important part of me is still twelve years old. It helps me when I sit down to write stories for kids.
Staring prejudice in the face imposes a cruel discipline: to structure your anger, to achieve a certain dignity, an angry dignity.
Even when you have gone as far as you can, and everything hurts, and you are staring at the specter of self-doubt, you can find a bit more strength deep inside you, if you look closely enough.
Dogs are a window on the natural world.
...The simple little words came easily, fitting themselves to the tune that had come out of the harpsichord. It didn't seem to her that she made them up at all. It seemed to her that they flew in from the rose-garden, through the open window, like a lot of butterflies, poised themselves on the point of her pen, and fell off it on to the paper.
Without opening your door, you can open your heart to the world. Without looking out your window, you can see the essence of the Tao. The more you know, the less you understand. The Master arrives without leaving, sees the light without looking, achieves without doing a thing.
Man was matter, that was Snowden's secret. Drop him out a window, and he'll fall. Set fire to him and he'll burn. Bury him and he'll rot, like other kinds of garbage. The spirit gone, man is garbage. That was Snowden's secret. Ripeness was all.
As long as you have a window, life is exciting.
The window to the world can be covered by a newspaper.
I love to go to the airports and just put on, like, dark glasses, so nobody can tell I'm staring at them, and just draw people.
Volunteering is a window into the passions of the soul.
If the door is locked, try the window.
Zoroastrians believe in one Great Almighty Spirit of Good who is in combat against evil forces, and Goodness prevails in the end. There is no self-flagellation or staring at the sun or snake-handling.
Body odor is the window to the soul.
The Eyes are the window to your soul
What?" Jace was still staring at her as if she'd told him she'd found one of the Silent Brothers doing nude cartwheels in the hallway. — © Cassandra Clare
What?" Jace was still staring at her as if she'd told him she'd found one of the Silent Brothers doing nude cartwheels in the hallway.
From the cab stepped a tall old man. Black raincoat and hat and a battered valise. He paid the driver, then turned and stood motionless, staring at the house. The cab pulled away and rounded the corner of Thirty-sixty Street. Kinderman quickly pulled out to follow. As he turned the corner, he noticed that the tall old man hadn't moved but was standing under the streetlight glow, in mist, like a melancholy traveler frozen in time.
Felting Phil (taking all of his chips down to the felt on the table). I loved beating him and then hed go over to the couch and sulk, staring at the ceiling.
Shut the door, they're coming through the window, shut the window, they're coming through the door," are the words to an old song. They fit my lifestyle with newly arriving butcher/censors every month. Only six weeks ago, I discovered that, over the years, some cubby-hole editors at Ballantine Books, fearful of contaminating the young, had, bit by bit, censored some 75 separate sections from the novel. Students, reading the novel which, after all, deals with censorship and book-burning in the future, write to tell me of this exquisite irony.
After a string of miscarriages, I gave birth to my first child. I spent six months of my pregnancy stuck in bed, staring at the ceiling. So my kids mean a lot to me.
It is said that scattered through Despair's domain are a multitude of tiny windows, hanging in the void. Each window looks out onto a different scene, being, in our world, a mirror. Sometimes you will look into a mirror and feel the eyes of Despair upon you, feel her hook catch and snag on your heart.
We cannot get from anyone else the things we need to fill the endless terrible need, not to be dissolved, not to sink back into sand, heat, broom, air, thinnest air. And so we revolve around each other and our dreams collide. Look out the window in any weather. We are part of all that glamour, drama, change, and should not be ashamed.
Broken vows are like broken mirrors. They leave those who held to them bleeding and staring at fractured images of themselves.
When a window closes another one opens
I'd like to think they're staring at me because of my white-hot animal magnetism, but I'm not Elvis. I'm Lobster Boy, hear me roar.
Acting is not a state of being ... but a state of appearing to be. You can't be eight times a week without going stark staring mad. You've got to be in control.
When she took her opposite place in the carriage corner, the brightness in her face was so charming to behold, that on her exclaiming, "What beautiful stars and what a glorious night!" the Secretary said "Yes," but seemed to prefer to see the night and the stars in the light of her lovely little countenance, to looking out of window.
Then I perceived, what I had never thought, that all these staring houses were not alike, but different one from another, because they held different dreams. — © Lord Dunsany
Then I perceived, what I had never thought, that all these staring houses were not alike, but different one from another, because they held different dreams.
The surface of the quieted river, as I think now, is like a window looking into another world that is like this one except that it is quiet. Its quietness makes it seem perfect. The ripples are like the slates of a blind of a shutter through which we see imperfectly what is perfect. Though that other world can be seen only momentarily, it looks everlasting. As the ripples become more agitated, the window darkens and the other world is hidden.the surface of the river is like a living soul, which is easy to disturb, is often disturbed, but, growing calm, shows what it was, is, and will be.
And what is more generous than a window?
Harvard was an extraordinary window on the world.
What I learned at that moment on the subway 30 years ago, staring at my blank passport, was this: If you have an impulse to do something, and it's not totally irresponsible, why not do it? It might just be the journey you've always needed.
If this code works, it was written by Paul DiLascia. If not, I don't know who wrote it ..I'll be laughing when I'm old and and all my programmer friends have gone alexic from staring at too many tiny pixels
My first memory in the world is my gym teacher ripping my mother's necklace off her neck and throwing it out the window and her running downstairs to go after it. I have no memory before that. I was 4. My father had a lot of girlfriends and my mother had a lot of boyfriends.
For me, watching Mohamed Salah play football is not unlike staring up at the stars and contemplating the vastness of the universe: it makes my own life seem nice and small.
Please leave the window open.
Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement. He whimpered like he wanted to pat Chiron's flank but was afraid to come closer. "Pony?
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