Quotes About Manipulation

controlling.

I called, my voice false-sounding and hoarse, slipping the painting into an extra pillowcase and hiding it under the bed before hurrying out of the room.

there's one thing I'm good at, it's lying on my feet. It's sort of a gift I have.

Even on the highest levels it was smoke and mirrors; everyone was furnishing a stage set.

Another trick—calculated to lure a different, more sophisticated customer—was to bury a piece in the back of the store, reverse the vacuum cleaner over it (instant antiquity!) and allow the nosy customer to ferret it out on his or her own—look

Do you really think it's right for a socialist to get what he wants by making a fool of an old woman?' 'I'm earning her a lot of money.' 'I was talking about sex,' said Paul, and Willi said: 'I don't know what you mean.' He didn't. Men are far more unconscious than women about using their sex this way; far less honest.

Emotion is a trap, it delivers you into the hands of society, that's why people are measuring it out.

Why did you decide to join me?" "Why … ?" repeated Redhead, needing time to think. "Word of three letters," said Lymond. "Come along, for God's sake: no need to let me have it all my own way. What was it? Rape, incest, theft, treason, arson, wetting the bed at night …" "… Or burning my mother alive," said the other sarcastically. "Oh, be original at least.

What shall we do with him? We have him at our mercy. Think of all the browbeaten Streltsi at Vorobiovo who would like to take their revenge at this moment. We could hire out his carcass for money!'

Then she said, Thorfinn! quickly, and moved to him; but had hardly got to his side before he loosed his fingers and thumbs and plunged them down to the mattress like spear-points. No!Macbeth. Macbeth. Macbeth! the name reached her like sling-shot. Groa said, They are the same man. I should know. I married both.

His hair soft as a nestling's, his eyes graceless with malice, Lymond was watching him in a silver mirror.

If I were yourself, I would perhaps give him his head. He looks a meek enough child." "So did Heliogabalus at an early age," said Lymond. "And Attila and Torquemada and Nero and the man who invented the boot. The only thing they had in common was a cherubic adolescence. And red hair, of course, makes it worse.

You're so damned brilliant, said Phelim. You know everything. It's hard-set you'd be to give yourself a dull Saturday afternoon. We're all puppets—not the old Queens only, but the rest of us, man, woman and child, looking the fools of the world. [...] You have them there, on their strings, all curled tight to your littlest finger; and you little heeding as you swing them what soul you may bruise.

Religion in recent years has become a political sport, and politicians are more skilful than honest men at extracting themselves from disasters.

You summon and you throw away. You treat love like a bird for the table … Like a pawn, now in frankincense, now discarded and thrown in the dirt. You don't know what love is, either of you. And God help us and you, if you ever find out.

Your husband appears to possess an uncanny gift for seducing his enemies.

You see someone before you who is not afraid to say what he thinks, provided he is in a position of ascendancy with a door open behind him and a knife gripped in each hand.

Do you think he will notice?' Danny said. 'I sometimes feel if I placed myself nude on the floor between the Voevoda and one of his meetings, he wouldn't even walk round me.

Warfare and trickery. It is your natural element.

Then,' Richard said, 'I think we accept your scheme, with one important change in it. You, too, must be watched and followed.' 'And slept with?' Lymond said.

There he goes. What do you think he will do?' 'What you want him to do,' Adam said dryly. 'Doesn't he always?' 'No,' Lymond said.

Does anyone—Jerott?—know a nice clean strumpet who doesn't have the pox and will sleep in my room tonight to discourage Richard? She needn't stay beyond half an hour, and I don't want to meet her.' 'And that's a bloody waste,' said Jerott belligerently. 'And it's going to stay a bloody waste,' said Lymond tartly. 'I want a little privacy, not to work up a joint reputation as Hophni and Phinehas.

For a moment no one spoke. Then Lymond got to his feet. 'I have a better idea. You marry her,' he suggested.

A lie is a broad and spacious and glittering thing, sweeping belief before it from its very grandeur. But the truth fits, like an old man cutting cloth in an attic. And that, Philippa did not need to be told, was the truth, which Lymond had guessed long before her.