Quotes About Intrigue

Seduction begins with insinuation, what may happen, not what is, what you may become to the person, not today what you are.

What are you bitches plotting?

They gave up days and weeks of their lives, addicted to someone else's drama

The less humans can solve a mystery, the more interesting it becomes

Who was this stranger, LeFleur

Secrets make life more interesting. You can be in a crowded room with someone and touch them without touching, just with a look, because they know a part of you no one else knows. And whenever you're with them, the two of you are alone, because the you they see no one else can.

Secrets make life more interesting. You can be in a crowded room with someone and touch them without touching, just with a look, because they know a part of you no one else knows. And whenever you're with them, the two of you are alone, because the you they see no one else can see.

And even if you hate her, can't stand her, even if she's ruining your life, there's something about her, some romance, some power. She's absolutely herself. No matter how hard you try, you'll never get to her. And when she dies, the world will be flat, too simple, reasonable, fair.

However, as soon as Mrs. Hogg stepped into her room she disappeared, she simply disappeared. She had no private life whatsoever. God knows where she went in her privacy.

But you won't be able to pin her down on sex. Have you thought of politics?

Their first free and frantic caresses had been preceded by a brief period of strange craftiness, of cringing stealth.

A red backless slipper slowly slid off her foot...and Franz, bending down after it, plunged softly into dark slumber.

Before the next minute had passed, they had all fallen to the ground. Just like that. As though someone had reached inside and turned off a switch. What happened? Matt asked, gasping. I went from one person to the next, trying to wake them up, but they were all dead, wrote Daft Donald.

The woman shucked Matt out of his shorts before he knew what was happening and dumped him inside.

Don't talk about that!" cried Celia so sharply that María hugged the pillow and stared goggle-eyed at the woman. "Don't say anything about El Patrón! Shoo!

At one point Willum and two strange doctors appeared and proceeded to poke Matt's stomach and take his blood. They untied him so he could pee into a bottle

Matt kept himself from shining the flashlight on him.

Nancy Goldstone

this kind of story intrinsically satisfying.

One of the most intricate Cold War spy novels I've ever read is David Quammen's The Soul of Viktor Tronko, based on the real-life case of a Cold War–era Russian defector who tells his debriefers that a Russian agent has infiltrated the upper echelons of the CIA.

John le Carré's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy in many ways defines the spy genre; it introduces the grand theme of ferreting out the Russian agent high up in British intelligence.

have chemicals in my body?! Why? What are they doing in there?

The Wood knew I was here: even now its creatures were moving towards me, stealthy padding feet through the forest, walkers and wolves and worse things still. I suddenly was sure that there were things that never left the Wood at all, things so dreadful no one had ever seen them. And they were coming.

I swung my feet off the bed and got on my shoes, and then Liu opened the door and we all jumped back, because Orion was standing right outside like a creeper. He jumped himself, so it wasn't that he'd actually been planning to ambush me; I could only guess that he'd been standing there working himself up to knocking.