Quotes About Intrigue

So one might say that there was a second conspiracy to make it look like there was no conspiracy at first; and directed by a man who was apparently a major player in both!

Elizabeth's voice had a door in it. When you opened that door you found another door, and that door opened yet another door. All the doors were nice and led out of her.

The most beautiful thing we can experience,' he said, 'is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science.

For beneath that delicate black powder something highly unusual was happening: the book's marbled cover was giving off a faint, but increasingly bright purple glow.

First, I'll tell about the robbery our parents committed. Then about the murders, which happened later.

there is mystery everywhere, even in a vulgar, urine-scented, suburban depot such as this. You have only to let yourself in for it. You can never know what's coming next. Always there is the chance it will be—miraculous to say—something you want.

Half the things we dig up, we have no idea what they are, and we still sell them as fucking coffee-table trinkets. Right now, someone back on Latimer has probably got the encoded secret of a faster-than-light drive mounted on their fucking living room wall." She paused. "And it's probably upside down.

concéntrate más en la búsqueda del misterio que en los conocimientos que te faltan.

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.

Sometimes you find the panel, but it doesn't open; sometimes it opens, and your gaze meets nothing but a mouse skeleton. But at least you've looked. That's the real distinction between people: not between those who have secrets and those who don't, but between those who want to know everything and those who don't. This search is a sign of love I maintain.

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 favourite perversion?

Margarita m?gdavo sakyti, kad yra dvi r?šys moter?: tos, kurios matomos kiaurai, ir tos, kurios nešioja paslapt?. Ir kad tai yra svarbiausia, k? vyrai išsyk pajunta, ir svarbiausia, kas juos patraukia arba ne. Vienus traukia vieno tipo moterys, kitus kito. Margarita - man nereikia to sakyti - buvo kiaurai matoma, bet kartais ji pavyd?davo toms, kurios nešiojo paslapt? ar apsimesdavo jos apgaubtos.

This intrigued me much more. Simple, plangent words. What had I said about the voyeur inside me?

From what I did and what I said Let them not seek to find who I was

There are always rumors, and there are always secrets. And secrets within secrets. They protect us. The truth can be manipulated. But we live within a secret within a secret within a secret within a secret.

He regarded her thoughtfully, and something about that look traveled up her spine like a trailed finger.

Ah, Lyon: the Achilles' heel of this family. She had forgotten about Lyon, and about disappearing Redmonds.

He was close enough now to see that her profile was designed to do dramatic things to hearts: stop them, steal them, break them.

Did he mean for her to look at something she loved and think of him? How dare he. He had no right to give her gifts. No right to remind her she was alone by ensuring that she was not. No right to test whether she had a heart. No right to court her, to please her, or to do whatever he bloody well might be doing by giving her a kitten.

The line of Miss Eversea's spine seemed positively 'alive' with... something. Outrage? Horror? Hilarity? He noticed the very fine line of hair traveling up the fragile nape of her neck, and something about that intimate little trail made the back of his own neck tingle as though she'd brushed her fingers there. Something entirely unexpected was happening in the region of his solar plexus.

He just hadn't expected to have his equilibrium roughly jostled by a pair of blue eyes this evening. He couldn't remember ever seeing eyes quite that color before. So achingly lovely they made him restless. He felt oddly as though he needed to do something about them.

He reached out and drew his finger lightly from her ankle right up the curve of her calf. When his finger reached the crook of her knee, he stopped. Astonished to see it there. Silently, a little frantically, he considered excuses: An insect was crawling up your stocking, Susannah. I was checking to see if you were injured, Susannah. I was--- Don't stop. It was her voice. Husky, abstracted. And the words roared like a brushfire over his senses.

Gabrielle turned to Colm. "These men will be of interest to you." Colm looked them over. "Why is that?" he asked. With her back to the infidels, she whispered, "They like to dig holes.

Diana: "Christina said the strangest thing." – Lyon: "Of course she did.