Quotes About Face

I play poker face to face.

I think most politicians could take a dodgeball in the face.

Hollywood is just like high school: The popular people love the other popular people. And the thing is, some people aren't nice. Or they are nice, but only to your face, not elsewhere.

I think I was driven to paint portraits to commit images of friends and family to memory. I have face blindness, and once a face is flattened out, I can remember it better.

The idea behind makeup is to enhance whatever color or contours you have in your face. I'm a big believer in that. And don't use to much powder; powder is really aging. I've made that mistake myself.

We aren't into the consumer space because that space is largely dominated by search and advertising, and it has a consumer face to it.

And I guess I have a face and a look that sort of lends itself to period costume!

In all the great religious systems, there are divine beings who represent the feminine face of the divine.

It's not that I'm afraid to be tagged with the label of right-wing or even centre-right; I just don't believe it properly describes either the choice that we face politically or what I'm trying to say.

Obviously, for me, story is first and foremost, even in the face of the attractive idea of having all the cast there, or having a great piece of talent come to it.

When I started modeling, I was told to tan, but I always protected my face.

Nothing beats a good tan, but I've also been trying to avoid sun exposure on my face as much as possible.

Another scar or two won't ruin my pretty face." "Right." "Carlos, are you being polite? That's not why I came here for. I know I'm not Steve McQueen." "My lady is totally in love with him. Lucky for me he's dead or I'd be in trouble." I hold up my glas of Jack Daniel's in a toast. "Here's to all the guys better looking than us. May they all die first.

Look at my face. I didn't get these scars in pillow fights." That seems to convince her. Never doubt the power of ugly.

She screws up her face in a parody of deep concentration.

He touched your face? Kee-rist, Donald." He undulated awkwardly in his seat belt. "Do you want to describe the circumstances, lover, or should I just draw my own sensational conclusions and stick it all in your 'Seven Since June' file? Crimenee. You're just—incredible.

That's what's important really, Keeper says. Learning how to be what the Creator created you to be. Face your truth.

There was a look of woe on his face that was almost comical. Raids, bullets, criminals...no problem. A missing duster? Crisis.

What do you mean 'most of the damage happened to my face'?" She gestured to the mirror above the sink on the far side of the room. I ran over to it and looked at my reflection. "Son of a bitch!

It occurred to me that I was standing face to face with the hero of a love story nearly as dramatic as my own.

Emerald green eyes studied us from a face that could have been sculpted by one of the classical artists I so admired. Shocked, I dismissed the comparison as soon as it popped into my head. This was a vampire, after all. It was ridiculous to admire him the way I would some hot human guy.

What, are you doing? Aside from getting your sandwich cold." "I'm making a snow angel. Don't you know what that is?" "Yes, I know. But why? You must be freezing." "Not so much, actually. My face is a little, I guess.

Lissa knelt down, compassion on her face. I wasn't surprised, since she'd always had a thing for animals. She'd lectured me for days after I'd instigated the infamous hamster-and-hermit-crab fight. I'd viewed the fight as a testing of worthy opponents. She'd seen it as animal cruelty.

That memory made a lump form in my throat as I remembered his face, serious and gorgeous, those brown eyes intense and passionate as he spoke up for me and convinced the others of my value.