Writing- the profession in which you stare at a computer screen, stare out the window, type a few words, then curse repeatedly.

I have people in my life, of course. Some write; some don't. Some read; some don't. Some stare vacantly into space when I talk the geeky talk and walk the geeky walk, but they make killer chocolate chip pancakes and so all is forgiven.

Look, don't just stare at the pages," I used to tell my students. "Become the characters. Live inside the book.

I wake up the next morning, happy and full of life. I again stare at my ceiling that says, 'Build a life worth living' This is the first time in forever that I have felt that maybe I am building a life worth living, that I'm not just faking it. My career my twin, books, and Archer are all I've had for so long, which was always worth living for - but love. Love is something more. Love makes you feel wanted. Love makes life worth living, and it's something I have never felt in this way. I have known this guy only for a little over a week. He walked right into my life and changed everything. I don't know how that is possible, but it is.

Build a life worth living. I stare at this phrase on my ceiling every morning before I decide to get out of bed. I painted it a few years ago after completing a few months of dialectal behavioral therapy. It is a quote by Marsha Linehan, who created DBT. After therapy, I impulsively decided to paint it on my ceiling in black, as some sort of reminder to?build a life worth living. I don't regret painting it up there - well, not yet, at least.

"- Nu stiu daca o sa fiu in stare, Jacquot.

"At sea, the darker the night the closer you will get to your past. The music you decide to play is the radio dial of your history. Van Morrison's "Have I Told You Lately" played as I stared at the setting moon. This is a song that always transports me to a New Hampshire backroad of my youth. Her name was Katie. She was tall, blond, and wore the girl next door look like an angel. She was smart, funny, and kind. She infatuated me from the moment I met her at Wentworth Marina. She was the daughter of two well-to-do doctors from upstate New York. It was her plan to sail around the world, and she wanted me to join her. "Just to mate" she would always say with a wink.

You can spend a lifetime at sea. Your present and past surround you as sure as the salt air. One does not stare out to the horizon and eventually not see themselves staring back. The farther we go out to sea, the deeper we go inside our mind. The spirit of the ocean is a living, breathing thing, as alive as any of the creatures who inhabit her waters above and below.

"I went to the bathroom and put each hand forcefully down on opposite sides of the sink. I looked straight into the mirror before me and stared at the person I'd been ignoring for some time now. I didn't have to say much. I already knew all this person's demons. I shook my head in disapproval. The alcohol and hate were killing me. What they missed, the depression whittled at unrelentingly. My whole life I had been told that I didn't look like a fisherman. All the while the only thing I wished to be was a fisherman. I screamed at the mirror in pure rage.

When a man's dreams live past the horizon of the sea, his soul dies a little each day he spends upon land and each mile he moves farther inland until ultimately one day he is nothing but a shell, empty and dead inside. Like a shell, you can hear the sound of the ocean if you hold it close enough to your ear and truly listen. In the sound of the ocean, you can find a man's purpose and in his purpose you will find the meaning of his life. If you love this man, you'll bring him back to the sea and set him free. If you greedily wish to showcase this man like a trophy on your windowsill, he may shine for you at times. Perhaps even your friends will comment how wonderful he is, but trust that a storm is brewing within. Each one of his stares into the distance is foretelling of a voyage of freedom to come. When this storm ultimately hits, it will take all that you have to survive and more likely than not, you'll be separated in its gales.

Vi ne mo?ete zamisliti kakva bol i srd?ba vas obuzme kad veliku ideju, koju odavno i visoko po?tujete, dohvate neve?ti ljudi i izvuku je na ulicu pred glupake kao ?to su sami, i najedanput je na?ete na tr?i?tu stare?i, u prljav?tini, naopako name?tenu, bez proporcije, bez harmonije- kao igra?ka kod nerazumne dece- i ne mo?ete vi?e da je poznate !

If a man has his eyes bound, you can encourage him as much as you like to stare through the bandage, but he'll never see anything.

dare or sit down and stare.

"DOVE ACQUISTARE EURO FALSI PER VENDERE

We'd stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't.

Loving yourself is scary. That's why people don't do it. To love yourself is to make eye contact with yourself- stare a measureless distance into your soul and embrace the journey to and through pillars of emotions and resting on the cushions of the heart. Imagine that. Then make it a reality.

Are you just gonna stare at Jack or are we gonna go?" Milo asked, poking his head into the bedroom.

If a man confessed anything on his death bed, it was the truth; for no man could stare death in the face and lie.

"When people stargazing, they stare at stars

I stared at her. "But she drugged us.

Those who wish to seek out the cause of miracles and to understand the things of nature as philosophers, and not to stare at them in astonishment like fools, are soon considered heretical and impious, and proclaimed as such by those whom the mob adores as the interpreters of nature and the Gods. For these men know that, once ignorance is put aside, that wonderment would be taken away, which is the only means by which their authority is preserved.

Que as nossas palavras ressoem para sempre pela eternidade e que nunca sejam esquecidas. Se por ventura se perderem perdidos estaremos.

The moon stared at me through sprinkled nighttime stardust and I alone smile.

"He said focus. The word focus. I hear angels singing. Everything goes dark except for a light that beams down on Sean. It is a God-given sign- like when people see the Virgin Mary in their grilled cheese, except this isn't religious and I'm actually not a big fan of dairy. I stare at the back of his head. His HEAD. Something I see every day but never really see because it's been there forever. Since the first day of third grade.