“His face was a little anxious around the eyes, with a crease of worry between the eyebrows—but it was just a face. A normal face. Nothing to give away the fact that he was a freak who saw ghosts around every corner.”

“Yes, he liked his face as he saw it there, his mouth quivering around the cigarette between his lips and the apparent ardor of his deep-set eyes. But a man’s beauty represents inner, functional truths: his face shows what he can do. And what is that compared to the magnificent uselessness of a woman’s face? Mersault was aware of this now, delighting in his vanity and smiling at his secret demons.”

“His face was very heavily creased, and into each crease he had tucked some worry or other, so that it wasn't really his face any longer, but more like a tree that had nests of birds in all of the branches. He had to struggle constantly to manage it and always looked worn out from the effort.”

“Shoulder up, I reeled around to face Boo Radley and his bloody fangs; instead, I saw Dill ringing the bell with all his might in Atticus's face.”

“You're walking around here with a smile on your face, Asher. It's freaking everybody out.”

“A ghostly smile flickered across his face. "If you weren't so psychotic, you'd be fun to hang around." "Funny, I feel that way about you too." He didn't say anything else, but the smile grew, and he walked away.”