Best 593 quotes in «attraction quotes» category

Even from the point of view of coquetry, pure and simple," he had told her, "can't you see how much of your attraction you throw away when you stoop to lying?

Everybody is talking about the Law of Attraction. Nobody is talking about the Law of Action.

Every flutter in her chest when he sat beside her, every flush to her cheeks after a compliment, and every longer-than-average embrace would end tonight.

Every person is attractive to somebody. You are. I am. Jim Bob over there is, too. Every person is probably ugly to somebody, too. You are. I am. Jim Bob over there is, too. Don’t take it personally. And, we all need to do ourselves a favor. We need to believe people when they tell us we’re beautiful, handsome, sexy, attractive, hot, or hunkalicious, especially when that someone is somebody that we think is beautiful, handsome, sexy, attractive, hot, or babealicious. Because you know what? They probably really think so. They probably aren’t lying. They probably don’t give a damn that you don’t look like Pamela Anderson.

Every woman on the planet thought she was "the one" who could tame the bad boy, but bad boys didn't change. Smart girls knew that. The reality didn't douse the attraction. Not that she wanted to. She liked to play with fire.

Excitement had her blood rushing through her veins and her heart beating wildly. That was it. All of it. He made her feel alive. Every second she was with him, no matter the emotion. She felt intensely alive.

Fascinating ... The whole thing [the school dance] seems to work on a similar principle to a supercollider. You know, two streams of opposingly charged particles accelerated till they're just under the speed of light, and then crashed into each other? Only here alcohol, accentuated secondary sexual characteristics and primitive "rock and roll" beats take the place of velocity.

Fear ends where love begins.

Feelings don’t follow rules. Guilt does. Fear does. But attraction? No way.

Feel the attraction. Do not resist the love. Give yourself for love.

From attraction and affection Cover of perfection Failure beyond texture to a painful lesson Everything that was from the start wasn't from the heart

...for if a woman's body can attract the holy angels, how much more the unholy man.

For an entrepreneur: wealth invites fame. For a celebrity: fame invites wealth.

From that position he had a clear view of Lydia within her garden, working with an admirably single-minded steadiness. She'd changed her hair. She normally pulled all of it straight back and off her face and bound it simply, letting part of its coiled length hang down beneath the plain white muslin of her cap. But on this morning she had not been so severe with it. He liked the fuller, softer waves of brown about her forehead and her temples. "So," he told Pierre, "it would be useful for me, while I'm here, to learn more English, so that in the future I can speak to those I capture." "You are maybe overconfident, Marine, to think you will return to war." "I'll be exchanged eventually." With a shrug he said, "So then in English, tell me, would you tell someone that it's nice, the way they wear their hair today?" Pierre's glance held amusement. "This is how you deal with men you capture, eh? You compliment their hair? It's very threatening and very tough, I'm sure it leaves them terrified." He hadn't had much cause for smiling since coming here, but Jean-Philippe felt his features relaxing now into a genuine smile at the other man's dry remark, and without meaning to, he looked again toward Lydia. And found her looking straight back at him. Once he'd been hit an inch under his heart with a bullet- there had been no pain but he'd lost all the wind from his lungs and been knocked right off balance, and what he felt now felt like that. This time, though, despite its swift and sudden strike, the feeling was decidedly more pleasurable. As he sent a nod across the clearing to acknowledge her, his smile of its own volition broadened like a schoolboy's. He was letting down his guard, he knew, allowing the Acadian to witness where his interest- and his weakness- lay, but for some reason, standing in the sunshine with her watching him, he'd ceased to care.

From the moment Lord Harte had entered the bedroom, she had begun to experience everything differently. Her thoughts, feelings, and reactions originated from a deeper source. Her fear and confusion had made way for other, more urgent sensations. The longer she sat under the earl's harsh and heady regard, the further she slipped into a state of expectancy. She felt on the verge of something, but she had no idea what. As the weakness in her mind and limbs continued to dissipate, she acknowledged that she could not blame her odd reactions on the aftereffects of the drug. He was the cause of her heightened responses. It was more than the wealth of secrets and mystery contained behind his midnight eyes. It was how he made her feel. Intrinsically. Viscerally. When he looked at her with his hooded gaze, she experienced something in the marrow of her bones, in the blood flowing through her veins, in the ether of her mind.

Gabriel didn't have to look at his parents to know they were thoroughly charmed by Pandora. As for him... He hardly recognized himself in his reaction to her. She was full of life, burning like sunflowers in the rime of autumn frost. Compared to the languid and diffident girls of London's annual marriage mart, Pandora might have been another species altogether. She was just as beautiful as he'd remembered, and as unpredictable. Laughing after the dog had jumped on her in the front drive, when any other young woman in her place would have been angry or humiliated. As she'd stood there wanting to argue with him about carrots, all Gabriel had been able to think of was how much he wanted to carry her somewhere cool and dark and quiet, and have her all to himself.

Galileo, yet men turn around women!

Gazing into his eyes, I was lost in their intensity. It was like looking into the bluest sky and carrying on to infinity. I felt mesmerised, hypnotised and transfixed all at once.

Girls and guys, don't let anyone tell you who and what you should be into.

Girls, on the other hand, have always come easy. I don't know why that is, exactly. Maybe it's the outsider vibe and a well-placed brooding look. Maybe it's something I think I see sometimes in the mirror, something that reminds me of my father. Or maybe I'm just damn easy on the eyes.

From the way his face lit with curiosity to the slight tilt of his jaw, even the lingering scent of brine and breeze gave him away.

God, I love men." She got up from the desk, walked to him, cupped his face in her hands and gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth. "You're just so cute." One hard tug on her hand had her tumbling into his lap. An instant later her quick laugh was cut off, and her heart pounding. He hadn't kissed her this way before, with impatience and heat and hunger all mixed together in a near brutal assault. He hadn't kissed her as if he couldn't get enough. Would never get en

Go to bed! Someone is anxious to come into your dream.

Forget vampires,” he laughed dismissively. “Who wants to drink blood for eternity? What we have discovered is far more seductive and a great deal more dangerous…

Harmonious life in Tao... Action is yang and attraction yin... Any action (including your thought forms) include a corresponding and balancing reaction. Choose your actions wisely to manifest harmonious effects along the Way....

Having someone this male next to her made her soul feel exhilarated and convey brazenly suggestive, female, liberal ideas to her inner id.

He could be doing quantum physics in his head or undressing her in his mind—she’d never know the difference.

He could inspire ballads. He could inspire wars.

He'd drawn her as close as propriety allowed; her green skirts swished against his boots. She was all woman, soft and curvaceous, mere inches away; he grew harder simply at the thought. The breeze, wafting past, lifted her perfume to his face- honeysuckle, roses, and that indefinable scent that evoked every hunter's instinct he possessed. Abruptly, he cleared his throat. "Nothing happened last evening?" It was an effort to lift his voice from the gravelly depths to which it had sunk. "Nothing." Patience slanted him a sharp, slightly curious glance. "Distressingly, Edmond and Henry have reverted to their competitive worst. Stolen items, or the disposal of same, seemed exceedingly far from their minds. If either of them are the thief or the Spectre, I'll eat my new bonnet." Vane grimaced. "I don't think your new bonnet's in any danger." He studied the stylish creation perched atop her curls. "Is this it?" "Yes," Patience returned, somewhat waspishly. He could at least have noticed. "I thought it looked different." Vane flicked the cockade perched over her eyebrow- and met her gaze with a far-too-innocent look.

He’d had to fold his long legs into his desk. His boots had seen better days, and his jeans unraveled in a curiously irresistible way at the bottom. He didn’t look like anyone I’d ever seen before. He reminded me of an actor in an old Western—Rock Hudson in Giant—all dark intensity.

He couldn’t grab reality if he attempted the task with both hands.

He could’ve penned a rendition of Moby Dick in Pig Latin and he wouldn’t have been the wiser.

He didn’t know what was hotter, her Star Wars reference or the breathiness with which she spoke it.

He drew me like gravity.

He doesn't jingle my chimes.

He flexed his fingers and fought the urge to put his hand on her stomach. It was a possessive gesture, and he felt a little bit possessive

He found himself fighting the urge to reach out and take her chin between his thumb and forefinger. To tilt her head so that she had to look at him. So that her lips were so close to his a slight movement would—

He had been haunted his whole life by a mild case of claustrophobia—the vestige of a childhood incident he had never quite overcome. Langdon’s aversion to closed spaces was by no means debilitating, but it had always frustrated him. It manifested itself in subtle ways. He avoided enclosed sports like racquetball or squash, and he had gladly paid a small fortune for his airy, high-ceilinged Victorian home even though economical faculty housing was readily available. Langdon had often suspected his attraction to the art world as a young boy sprang from his love of museums’ wide open spaces.

Happiness has no time limits or conditions; the only requirement is to give it away.

He is incredibly handsome. You never realized before how beautiful evil could be.

He liked her; it was as simple as that.

Hekate smacked the mirror down. "I'd never fancy you," she retorted to Hermes. "And if you ever try to kiss me, I'll--I'll keep a snake hidden in my clothes and make it bite you. On the lips. And on both ears." "See, your threats are still age twelve," Hermes said. "I'll help you work on that.

He knew that if Michelle entered into the walls of the Vatican, she’d corrupt every single clergyman within, causing them to forsake their vows in trade for a few moments with her. With one glance men would happily follow her to the bowels of hell and swim across the lake of fire to get to her.

He leaned toward me and said his name like he was sharing a secret and it made me think he probably kept a lot of secrets. His smile was sweet and his teeth the tiniest bit crooked.

He looks at you like you’re crème brûlée.

He looks me right in the eye, and all of a sudden I want to kiss him. [...] I almost take a step forward, there’s that kind of draw. It’s almost spiritual. Does he feel it too? He looks at me like he does.

He had a bad habit of initially zeroing in on one or two things he liked about every new girl he found himself interested in, as if to justify his attraction.

Here’s my usual party strategy: find the liquor, find the food, find the space where two walls meet. Alienate enough people around you to have some breathing room. Find the attractive people—this shouldn’t take long; they’ll be the ones getting everything they want in life. Once you’ve found them, stare hungrily at them all evening, and interpret every alarmed flicker of eye contact from them as a new stage in your relationship.

He relaxed his hands, lifted one and tucked a strand of wispy blonde hair behind her ear. She didn’t move; she only looked at him. He wondered if she felt it too.

Her lips are a pomegranate painted vacation spot. And her eyebrows -- dark, frustrated, and jealous -- for they never get the attention of her glittering pupils after yet being so near them.