Quotes About Intrigue

He was, and she had to swallow very hard to keep from choking, the most terribly beautiful man she had ever seen. He had a long, wicked scar that traveled from his temple down his cheek to the side of his chin and below his jaw. Somehow, though, it just didn't detract from his handsomeness, dark though that was. His face was all planes and angles, harsh even in the deepening gloom. His hair was dark and his eyes were full of cynicism.

I've discovered that half the people would love to go into space, and there's no need to explain it to them. The other half can't understand, and I couldn't explain it to them. If someone doesn't know why, I can't explain it.

With hands that shook, Omri probed into the depths of the chest till he found the box-within-a-box-within-a-box.

Are you not the one who told me that she had to petition the king to get her husband to sleep with her? Aye,that is the gossip at court, but no one knows what she looks like save the king,and he refuses to discuss it. 'Sides, her husband died on the way home to perform his....er duty. 'Twas probably suicide, Amaury muttered grimly.

But what popped up was no girl.

Here! Aye, but where the hell is---? Oh. Claray peered over her shoulder to see the Wolf staring at her from some ten feet away. His gaze was fixed on her lower legs with a sort of heated interest that made her look down. It was only then that she realized that she was holding her skirts rather high. They were actually halfway between her knees and her nether region, leaving an indecent amount of leg on view.

She drawled, I think I'd really like to see that gun of yours later.

Go the window: the street is empty. You may hear running footsteps, or a sigh. In a minute or two the whistles have moved away in the direction of the Tinmarket or the Margarethestrasse. Next day some minor prince is discovered in the gutter with his throat cut, and all you are left with is the impression of secret wars, lethal patience, an intelligent manouevring in the dark.

The true detective [...] starts in the center of the maze. Crimes make their way through to him. Never forget: you uncover your heart at the heart of it.

Come on, Pandora, open your belly, and digest me; This thing is amusing, but digest me.

Que mulher será essa, perguntou a si mesmo, tão bela que mete medo, tão fantasiosa que causa lástima? 

Fewmets to Mr. Jenkins, anyhow.

Mrs Whatsit shook her beautiful head.

Medal, Intrigue, Sutter's Gold, Tiffany, Sweet Surrender, Double Delight, Climbing Crimson Glory, Don Juan, Royal Sunset, Rosa rugosa, Blanc Double de Coubert

The issue with spies is not that there is something brilliant about them. It is that there is something wrong with us.

One of them had a large wooden sign nailed to its door proclaiming, NO SYMPATHY! I wondered what non-arcane visitors might think of the warning.

Language was both his livelihood and his addiction and he was often preyed upon by a near irresistible compulsion to eavesdrop on conversations in public places.

In a short story by Chekhov or a novel by Balzac he found mysteries which, so far as he was aware, did not exist in any spy thriller. 35

I read about a famous mystery writer who worked for one week in a department store. One day she saw a woman come in and buy a doll. The mystery writer found out the woman's name, and took a bus to New Jersey to see where the woman lived. That was all. Years later, she referred to this woman as the love of her life. It is possible to imagine a person so entirely that the image resists attempts to dislodge it.

It can neither be concealed nor overstated: These types of things genuinely interest and delight me. One small wordplay discovery—say, figuring out that an anagram for maker is me, AKR—will make my whole day.

At first she beckoned and lured one into her world; then, she blurred the passageways, confused all the images, as if to elude detection.

I don't hear your words: your voice reverberates against my body like another kind of caress, another kind of penetration. I have no power over your voice. It comes straight from you into me. I could stuff my ears and it would find its way into my blood and make it rise.

The most haunting woman is the one we cannot find in the crowded café when we are looking for her, the one that we must hunt for, and seek out through the disguises of her stories.

and the very folds of the curtains contained secrets and sighs.