Quotes About Temptation

Justice doesn't always have clean hands, and we all have dark desires clawing at our wills.

There is nothing like a sanitized present to make one yearn for the wicked past.

Cecie keeps telling him she'd like to take him home some night, husband or no. The Minotaur waits hopefully. Husband or no.

But it wasn't Helen's face alone that launched the Greeks' celebrated thousand ships. It was the lure of booty.

Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!

Men are going to go out on the road and they're going to find other women. So if you really want to save yourself a whole lot of heartache, do not fall in love with somebody in a band. Just don't.

Sweet desert rose Each of her veils, a secret promise This desert flower No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

Did no-one ever tell you not to trust a fallen angel?" Shemyaza said. "They tell lies.

The feeling was to be savoured, but not indulged just yet.

He could tell that Owen thought it was like putting his hand to a mirror and finding that his fingers could slide through the glass to another world, touch the image that lay there, the image of himself. It was disorienting for him, but desire kindled courage.

He looked sleepy, sensual, dragged from a bed of lust, no doubt.

You lost your god here in the flower of Babylon.

Sometimes the muse sits on my shoulder, but most often not I have a devil of a job tempting her back!

Seduction takes many forms and not all of them involve the body.

Sensuality oozed from her straining limbs.

I have experienced perfect love, but felt driven to destroy it. Strange. Just didn't feel right. Felt too good, I suppose. Perhaps I destroyed it before it destroyed me.

I am castrated by my own deliquencies," Shem said. "Not even with you can I overcome them. The thought of a kiss turns my stomach, yet you are a lovely creature.

Emilia, you are a bad girl. Is this how you pulled Kashday Murkaster's secrets from him? Pillow talk, they call it, don't they? All the great femme fatales of human history were adept at it.

She could smell the perfume of his own body beneath that of the aftershave: a scent of corn and ozone. It was unbearable. She made a promise to herself that she would have him, eventually. She could not stand it if she didn't.

He suppressed any thought of Ishtahar and tried to concentrate on the lithe, young body against him.

He wished Owen would move his hands. It was impossible to think when they lay upon his body.

To Othman, it was like a fine brandy, a perfect Armagnac, rolled around the tongue. Such fiery, yet delicate flavours. The garden of Low Mede was ancient, timeless. Hanging there, a ragged shadow some inches above the ground, hidden among the old-fashioned shrubs, the esctatic bouquets of flowers rooted in the earth, Othman vicariously enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh. Hadn't he primed Owen for this?

I felt like they were loitering around in the hope one of us would sup from them later. Perhaps we would find it difficult to leave until we had obliged them.

I will give you meat, Salamiel thought, and once you eat of my offerings, you will be mine.