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• "Look to it yourself, father," answered Telemachus, "for they say you are the wisest counsellor in the world, and that there is no other mortal man who can compare with you.
• If looks could kill ...
• He gave me a dirty look.
• She got her mother’s looks.
• I don’t like the look of the new design.
• He tried to persuade Cicely to stay away from the ball-room for a fourth dance.[...]But she said she must go back, and when they joined the crowd again her partner was haled off with a frightened look to the royal circle, […].
• Let’s have a look under the hood of the car.
• It's unusual for Mays to strike out looking. He usually takes a cut at it.
• Clem Labine struck Mays out looking at his last at bat.
• The fastball caught him looking.
• A spirit fit to start into an empire, / And look the world to law.
• to look down opposition
• Looking my love, I go from place to place.
• Serene, smiling, enigmatic, she faced him with no fear whatever showing in her dark eyes.[...]She put back a truant curl from her forehead where it had sought egress to the world, and looked him full in the face now,.
• My toes look through the overleather.
• Look out of the window [i.e. lean out] while I speak to you.
• Look at my new car!  Don’t look in the closet.
• Once, slipping the money clandestinely, just in the act of taking leave, he slipt it not into her hand but on the floor, and another had it; whereupon the poor Monk, coming to know it, looked mere despair for some days.
• Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again.
• looking each hour into death's mouth to fall
• I look to each hour for my lover’s arrival.
• the east gate[...]which looketh eastward
• The hotel looks over the valleys of the HinduKush.
• That painting looks nice.
• Chelsea's youngsters, who looked lively throughout, then combined for the second goal in the seventh minute. Romeu's shot was saved by Wolves goalkeeper Dorus De Vries but Piazon kept the ball alive and turned it back for an unmarked Bertrand to blast home.
• Now that she had rested and had fed from the luncheon tray Mrs. Broome had just removed, she had reverted to her normal gaiety.  She looked cool in a grey tailored cotton dress with a terracotta scarf and shoes and her hair a black silk helmet.
• So this was my future home, I thought![...]Backed by towering hills, the but faintly discernible purple line of the French boundary off to the southwest, a sky of palest Gobelin flecked with fat, fleecy little clouds, it in truth looked a dear little city; the city of one's dreams.
• [...]but should I publish any favours done me by your Lordship, I am afraid it would look more like vanity than gratitude.
• It looks as if it’s going to rain soon.
• He looked round the poor room, at the distempered walls, and the bad engravings in meretricious frames, the crinkly paper and wax flowers on the chiffonier; and he thought of a room like Father Bryan's, with panelling, with cut glass, with tulips in silver pots, such a room as he had hoped to have for his own.
• Then came a maid with hand-bag and shawls, and after her a tall young lady.[...]She looked around expectantly, and recognizing Mrs. Cooke's maid[...]Miss Thorn greeted her with a smile which greatly prepossessed us in her favor.