Quotes About Fascination

Michael was still an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, coated in yum.

Ian stepped out to where he knew I could clearly see and identify his tall, dark, and dangerous self.

I drink in the sight, stand mesmerized, drenched in leather and paper and gold edges and ink and words. I'm carried away. Lost.

Sex is a story you know the ending of. More or less the same story with the same ending, every time. Yet we want to keep hearing it, the way a child listens to a fairy tale, vigilant for variation.

An enigma? That's not a bad persona to have. I should probably shut up and let the mystery continue! It's good for my career.

I write horror because I enjoy it. I'm endlessly fascinated by the supernatural, by death, by darkness. And, to be honest, I don't have much choice. This is the way my mind works.

job to remember everything. But the lady was a conundrum wrapped in an enigma. Alas, Napier loved nothing better

A spell perhaps?" The prince wrinkled his face as though it physically hurt him to think and ask questions.

A person entranced by a book simply forgets to breathe. The house can catch alight and a reader deep in a book will not look up until the wallpaper is in flames.

Oh! but your lips were thrilling, much too thrilling, Never before were mine so strangely willing.

I came to the conclusion that it was impossible to classify anyone in Iran, and herein lay its fascination.

It was the freshness and the newness of your beauty and you, the mystery of you, that won your man. When a man has plucked and smelled all the sweetness of a flower, he looks for other flowers. It is his queerness. You must ever remain a flower almost plucked yet never plucked, stored with vats of sweet unbroached though ever broached.

I'm wild again,Beguiled again,A simpering, whimpering child again—Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

Había aprendido a evitar la tentación porque dudada de tener la fuerza necesaria para resistirla. Dejar que la curiosidad se transformara en fascinación sería el primer paso hacia la ruina

My biggest hero, Gregory Peck, was my birthday present on April 14, 1973. I just sat and stared at him.

The loveliest girl in Berlin, all the young men agreed.

Odd how a man who never smiled could make her feel things she didn't know existed. He held her heart in his hands. From the moment she saw him, some thread had linked them together.

When someone was gazing into your eyes like that, it was kind of hard to look away.

It was the craziest thing, but the more unreasonable she got, the more attracted to her he became.

Their gazes locked and held for a long beat, like maybe he was taking her pulse from across the room, absorbing the fact that she was drenched and breathless. The corners of his mouth twitched. She'd amused him again.

What drew her into O'Riley's like a bee to honey was the six-foot, broad-shouldered, dark eyes, dark smile of Finn O'Riley himself.

He slid his fingers over her jaw and tilted her face up to his. You're smarter than hell, sexier than hell, and I like you way more than I should, he said.

That this woman talking to him had large, melting brown eyes and long brown hair the color of a doe's, on a face meant for an artist's canvas, all attached to a nifty little compact body that could tempt the gods meant nothing. She was insane.

Seriously," he murmured, still taking her in. "Wow." One more "wow" and she was going to start her own drinking game.