Quotes About Fascination

I am a little obsessed with surprise kitty.

I surprise myself by the things I get excited by.

I'm not surprised that my books appeal to adults.

I never thought the media would be interested in me - this is very surreal.

You shudder deliciously. It becomes you.

I like smooth shiny girls, hardboiled and loaded with sin.

She had eyes like strange sins.

She bent over me again. Blood began to move around in me, like a prospective tenant looking over a house.

She'd make for a jazzy week-end, but she'd be wearing for a steady diet.

She's a nice girl. Not my type." "You don't like them nice?" He had another cigarette going. The smoke was being fanned away from his face by his hand. "I like smooth shiny girls, hardboiled and loaded with sin." "They take you to the cleaners," Randall said indifferently.

Then she lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theater curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air.

Maybe you don't like tall girls with honey-colored hair and skin like the first strawberry peach the grocer sneaks out of the box for himself.If you don't, I'm sorry for you. (Pearls Are A Nuisance)

I sat down on the edge of a deep soft chair and looked at Mrs. Regan. She was worth a stare. She was trouble. She was stretched out on a modernistic chaise-longue with her slippers off, so I stared at her legs in the sheerest silk stockings. They seemed to be arranged to stare at. They were visible to the knee and one of them well beyond. The knees were dimpled, not bony and sharp. The calves were beautiful, the ankles long and slim and with enough melodic line for a tone poem.

Era rubia. Pero qué rubia. Cualquier obispo haría un agujero en una vidriera para verla

She leaned back and a pulse beat in her throat. She was exquisite, she was dark, she was deadly. And nothing would ever touch her, not even the law.

When I read, I ceased to be my-self, and this nonexistence I pursued and devoured like a drug.

Love is linked to the fact that in the end we know nothing about the object that attracts us in the Other, and that at the same time the Other knows nothing about this object that is in him more than himself, i.e. what makes someone attracted to him.

Whatever enchants also guides and protects.

He was so fascinated by the long single strand of black hair that he did not overflow his mind with fantasies about it, turning it into a hundred varieties of his imagination.    He just sat there staring at it.    Japanese hair.

He looked very carefully at her fingers as if he had never seen fingers before. He was enchanted by them and thought that they were beautiful. He never wanted to let go. He wanted to hold her hand forever.

The anthropologist Helen Fisher, in Why We Love, has beautifully expressed the insanity of romantic love, and how over-the-top it is compared with what might seem strictly necessary.

There's nothing wrong with being a genius who can fascinate the young. Rather, there's something wrong with the young who can't be fascinated by a genius.

What makes us want to know the worst? Is it that we tire of preferring to know the best? Does curiosity always hurdle self-interest? Or is it, more simply, that wanting to know the worst is love's favorite perversion.

The conventional accept and are frequently charmed by a certain unconventionality.