If you stare at someone long enough, they'll eventually look back at you.
The English talked with inflected phrases. One phrase to mean everything.
Francia don’t look too convinced. I never seen arms so crossed.
Seeing her sitting there unresponsive makes me realize that silence has a sound.
My presence speaks volumes before I say a word.
A stare is really nothing more than what you're thinking inside.
The face she made at me was probably meant for a smile. Whatever it was, it beat me. I was afraid she'd do it again, so I surrendered
Often a silent face has voice and words.
The face is a picture of the mind with the eyes as its interpreter.
One word, that's all you said and something in your voice caused me to turn my head. Your smile just captured me.
You gave me a significant look, but significant of what?
In your eyes, I see what's on my mind.
A yawn is a silent shout.
...and Jack, who felt like he was on the cusp of being able to read minds and thought it would be all right if Luce wrote him down for that. ("I sense that you're okay with that, am I right?" He made a gun out of his fingers and clicked his tongue.)
I am a person who is trained to look other people in the eye.
It was like they waited to tell each other things that had never been told before. What she had to say was terrible and afraid. But what he would tell her was so true that it would make everything all right. Maybe it was a thing that could not be spoken with words or writing. Maybe he would have to let her understand this in a different way. That was the feeling she had with him.
He scratched his ear, the infallible resource to which embarrassed people have recourse.
Verbal and nonverbal activity is a unified whole, and theory and methodology should be organized or created to treat it as such.
...when everything else fails, we communicate in the language of the stars
I can hear people smile.
When you hug someone, you learn something else about them. An important something else.
You must never underestimate the power of the eyebrow.
When I'm a little bit upset, my eyebrow goes up, and that is a trait that my beautiful mother passed down to me. We always knew in the house: 'Mommy's upset; her eyebrow just went up.'
My shrug was so nonchalant it would make a cat jealous
She tried to smile sympathetically, but with her face it wasn't quite possible.
