Don't. Tell me when, then. And before you say never, take a good look at me and tell me if you see a man who's easily deterred.
The motivation of all artists is 'Look at me, Mum'.
It must be important or he wouldn't dare disturb me now,” he muttered. Then he drew away to look at me. “If it's not, I'll kill him and return to you directly.
We could call you an ambisexual. A duosexual. A—” “Do I really have to find a word for it?” Kyle interrupts. “Can’t it just be what it is?” “Of course,” I say, even though in the bigger world I’m not so sure. The world loves stupid labels. I wish we got to choose our own. We pause for a moment. I wonder if that’s all—if he just needed to say the truth and have it heard. But then Kyle looks at me with unsure eyes and says, “You see, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.” “Nobody does,” I assure him.
Sometimes you look at me and it's like all the bullshit gets stripped off and I'm left with what's underneath and I kind of like what I see. Someone who actually fails. Someone who has absolutely no self-control. Someone who says real dickhead things like 'this is complicated.' I like that part of me, you know. I like the fact that I know I can't control you or how I feel about you and that doesn't freak me out.
What do you want? "To know you," she said without hesitation. "All of you. I want to know what makes you feel good." "Your laughter," he said without hesitation. "Feeling your hands on me. The way you look at me, whether I've been a complete dumbass, or just made you come-" With a laugh, she ducked her head, but he dipped his down until she was looking at him again. "You want to know what scared me?" he asked. "Yes" He leaned even closer and slid a hand to the nape of her neck. "The thought of never having those things with you again." -Chloe and Sawyer (Head over Heels)
Then Drew shuffles into the dining hall. I drop my toast, and my mouth drifts open. Calling him “bruised” would be an understatement. His face is swollen and purple. He has a split lip and a cut running through his eyebrow. He keeps his eyes down on the way to his table, not even lifting them to look at me. I glance across the room at Four. He wears the satisfied smile I wish I had on.
I don't know, man. Look at me. I've changed. I've grown up. I've got a job, got a career ... I drink coffee now.
I'm basically a sexless geek. Look at me, I have pasty-white skin, I have acne scars and I'm five-foot-nothing. Does that sound like a real sexual dynamo to you?
I'm waiting for my kids to grow up and get into the Offspring and look at me like I'm a total candy-ass.
hat made me feel uncomfortable. People would be like, "Woah, that's crazy!," or they'd look at me really funny, but it also helped because that's how people look at Emily. I was like, "Come on, be sensitive! I have a scar on my face. It's not nice to just stare at somebody." That was really interesting.
I've just always been that kid that was like, "Look at me! Look at me!," and doing performances and skits. I'm also, as most artists are, a very sensitive person, so I need that outlet to release that. Art needs to be in my life, otherwise I can't function as a human being. I heard Madonna say, "Live it, breathe it, eat it." That's how I am with the artistic part of myself.
I look at you and you look at me and deep in our hearts know it That you weren't much of a muse, but then I weren't much of a poet
I preferred my brand of beauty where Norah was more beautiful than any bimbette, and Mom was beautiful whether sized extra-small or extra-large. Where Peony could look at herself in the mirror and murmur, wow, look at me. Just look at me.
I was always in the gym. People would look at me crazy because I spent so much time there. But that's what it was about. I'm glad I did it.
She tips her chin up and looks at me with that Abnegation stubbornness I know so well. She may have left them, but they are what’s making her strong.
I make a gesture that is intended to convey, "Hey, no hurry, talk as long as you'd like," and probably actually conveys, "Hey, look at me! I have spastic hands.
Let me fill you in on a few of my beliefs. First of all, I believe that I'll dress the way I want and I'll act the way I want. But most importantly, these fans don't just look at me for my appearance, they love me for what's on the inside.
Ex-D-boy, used to park my Beamer Now look at me, I can park in my own arena
I still can't believe that some pseudocritics continue to accuse me of having murdered tango. They have it backward. They should look at me as the saviour of tango. I performed plastic surgery on it.
I have killed, robbed, and injured too many white men to believe in a good peace. They are medicine, and I would eventually die a lingering death. I had rather die on the field of battle. Look at me, see if I am poor, or my people either. The whites may get me at last, as you say, but I will have good times till then. You are fools to make yourselves slaves to a piece of fat bacon, some hard-tack, and a little sugar and coffee.
I am single for two reasons. First, I don't date girls who watch Real World because they already think they know me. Second, a lot of girls look at me as the slutty seven.
I say to myself, 'I don't know how to act - and why does anybody want to look at me on-screen anymore?' ... Lots of actors feel that way. What gives you strength is also your weakness - your raging insecurity.
I want you to see that I'm looking. Look at me look at you. I'm cool with that.
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
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