Quotes About Attraction

Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?

You're as tough as you are beautiful, which means a lot of women must hate you on sight, and the men can't decide whether to try to compete with you or sleep with you.

A hundred years later and someone gazes upon you as if you were heaven itself, but you know in your heart of hearts that it's not heaven you're offering them, it's hell.

I stared at Jean-Claude still cuddled on the corner of the bed. He looked adorable, and if I'd had a gun, I'd have shot him on the spot.

Hello, Jean-Claude," I said. "Greetings, ma petite," he said. His voice was like fur, rich, soft, vaguely obscene, as if just talking to him was something dirty. Maybe it was. "Don't call me ma petite," I said. He smiled slightly, not a hint of fang. "As you like.

I don't want people attracted to me by magic; that's just creepy.

Richard had scooted in to sit on my left without being asked. He's a quick study. It's one of the reasons we're still going out. That and the fact that I lust after his body something terrible. I

I straightened up, pulling just a little away from him. He looked at me questioningly. "Something wrong?" "Nice aftershave," I said. No need to confess that I'd had an almost irresistible urge to nibble his neck. It was too embarrassing. The

Il movimento dei suoi fianchi rimase lento, guardingo, meraviglioso, ma io volevo di più. Accostai la bocca alla sua. Non sono fragile. E lo baciai con tanta violenza da sentire la pressione delle sue zanne.

He let me see in that strangely handsome face that he was thinking about her not without her clothes on, but eventually without her skin.

Andrea's really good-looking," I say to Kendra in a low voice when I hear the Vespa and the jeep start up. "Whatever." She shrugs. "The weird thing? I love to, you know, hook a boy on the line, but when I do? I don't care about 'em anymore. I'm funny that way.

Some sort of weird, shared inexplicable draw to fall in love with people who hurt and betray us.

Love. Such a mild term for such a destructive force.

There's a look that two people share when it is inevitable that they're becoming lovers; that they've become lovers, in spirit if not yet in deed. The look is the bond that sex confirms.

I fell in love with the idea that the mysterious thing you look for your whole life will eventually eat you alive. (Explaining her attraction to Moby-Dick)

Love isn't rational, it's instinctive

That feeling in your stomach when you hear him whispering off-key, down the hall. That way your heart trips and then hammers against your ribs when he sees you and he grins like a little kid at the top of a steep, shiny-hot slide. Call it hormones, an early-stage bacterial zombie infection, or a very pleasant dream I was experiencing; I didn't care. I liked That.

Of course I want to be a model. I want to paint my eyelids gold. I saw that on a magazine cover and it looked amazing-- turned the model into a sexy alien that everyone would look at but nobody dared touch.

How could he have known? How could he know my body better than I did myself? How could he foresee that a thumbnail run up my spine would—) "By God," he murmured throatily into my hair. "I've wanted to do that since the moment I laid eyes upon you.

Sorrow is implicit in love as gravitation is implicit in mass.

I have been thinking about the girl I met last night in the mirror: dark on the marble-ivory white: glossy black hair: deep suspiring eyes in which one's glances sink because they are nervous, curious, turned to sexual curiosity.

It was, if you like, the flirtation of minds prematurely exhausted by experience which seemed so much more dangerous than a love founded in sexual attraction.

One always falls in love with the love-choice of the person one loves.

A face which is always serene possesses a mysterious and powerful attraction: sad hearts come to it as to the sun to warm themselves again.