“I like the way he looks at me, like I am a wood nymph that he happened upon one day and just had to take home to keep.”

“He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.”

“He has that look, like I am being unreasonable, like he is so sure I am being unreasonable that I wonder if I am.”

“Accidental sex. He made it sound like I fell down, and there just happened to be an erection in the way.”

“One day I looked at Gat, lying in the Clairmont hammock with a book, and he seemed, well, like he was mine. Like he was my particular person.”

“Driving in my car
I'm driving home for Christmas
With a thousand memories
I take look at the driver next to me
He's just the same
Just the same”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

My stomach lurched. “What do you mean? How does he look at me?”

“Like you’re not a student and he’s not a teacher.”

“He started to look at me in a manner I recognized: it was the way I looked at a new book, one I had never read before, one that surprised me with all it had to say.”

“I used to be a superhero.
No one could touch me, not even myself.
You are like a phone booth that I somehow stumbled into,
And now look at me, I am just like everybody else.”

“I have never met any really wicked person before. I feel rather frightened. I am so afraid he will look just like every one else.”