The Seducer Diary Quotes

I shall be your poet! I do not want to be a poet for others; make your appearance, and I shall be your poet. I shall eat my own poem, and that will be my food. Or do you find me unworthy? Just as a temple dancer dances to the honor of the god Gudutl, so I have consecrated myself to your service; light, thinly clad, limber, unarmed, I renounce everything. I own nothing; I desire to own nothing; I love nothing; I have nothing to lose-but have I not thereby become more worthy of you, you who long ago must have been tired of depriving people of what they love, tired of their craven sniveling and craven pleading. Surprise me-I am ready ~ Soren Kierkegaard

You shall be the Reaper, Lilith,' the Aquis said. 'You shall be the Redeemer. The Seducer of Demigods and the Slayer of Kings. ~ Georgina Anne Taylor

So your theory is that Nancy plans to marry Samuel, pass off as her own the child he fathered on her maid, and then raise it, assuming it's a boy, to be heir to the title. That doesn't gain Nancy much, does it? It's not her son, and she's not Samuel's only lover. He and his mistress and the son get everything; she gets only the privilege of knowing she's married to a seducer."
Dom ignored the fact that some of what she said made sense. "She gains an exalted rank as mother to the new viscount. She gains a husband she's always coveted. And she might not even care if Samuel was having an affair with her maid--you said yourself that Nancy wasn't fond of the intimate side of marriage."
The moment Jane paled, he realized what he'd said. Something highly inappropriate. Something that revealed just how frank he and Jane had been in their conversations. God only knew what Blakeborough would make of that.
Bloody hell. Whatever it was, it wouldn't help Dom's situation with Jane any. Not that any of this would. Damn Nancy for coming between them yet again.
Jane's gaze turned stormy as she poked him in the chest. "You've got it all figured out, don't you? But as usual, you ignore all the ways that your theory doesn't fit."
He stared her down. "Such as what?"
Again she poked him in the chest. "Why did Samuel mention coming to London to see a doctor if they were sure that Nancy had lost the baby?" Another poke. "Why did she leave York in such strange circumstan ~ Sabrina Jeffries

For the D-Day spies were, without question, one of the oddest military units ever assembled. They included a bisexual Peruvian playgirl, a tiny Polish fighter pilot, a mercurial Frenchwoman, a Serbian seducer, and a deeply eccentric Spaniard with a diploma in chicken farming. ~ Ben Macintyre

Beauty is the greatest seducer of man. ~ Paulo Coelho

Recently Mr. Mawdsley's donkey escaped from his stall, raced down the road, and somehow found his way into an enclosed pasture. Mr. Caird's prized mare was innocently grazing when the ill-bred seducer had his way with her. Now it appears the mare has conceived, and a feud is raging between Caird, who demands financial compensation, and Mawdsley, who insists that had the pasture fencing been in better repair, the clandestine meeting would never have occurred. Worse still, it has been suggested that the mare is a shameless lightskirt and did not try nearly hard enough to preserve her virtue. ~ Lisa Kleypas

It was the pivotal teaching of Pluthero Quexos, the most celebrated dramatist of the Second Dominion, that in any fiction, no matter how ambitious its scope or profound its theme, there was only ever room for three players. Between warring kings, a peacemaker; between adoring spouses, a seducer or a child. Between twins, the spirit of the womb. Between lovers, Death. Greater numbers might drift through the drama, of course
thousands in fact
but they could only ever be phantoms, agents, or, on rare occasions, reflections of the three real and self-willed beings who stood at the center. And even this essential trio would not remain intact; or so he taught. It would steadily diminish as the story unfolded, three becoming two, two becoming one, until the stage was left deserted. ~ Clive Barker

Every bourgeois in the ferment of his youth, if only for a day or a minute, has believed himself capable of a grand passion, of a high endeavor. Every run-of-the-mill seducer has dreamed of Eastern queens. Not a lawyer but carries within him the débris of a poet. ~ Gustave Flaubert

The world does not have a voice of its own. It can't tell you what it wants, what it needs. But it's yearning for something to point it in the right direction. A savior, perhaps. Save us, Chris! You must forgive me. Where have my manners gone. I don't think I've had a chance to formerly introduce myself. You may call me Bray Wyatt. But I have a thousand faces and a million names. Seducer, accuser, destroyer. I am the color red in a world full of black and white, and if you value your ability to breathe, don't get too close. Save us, Chris. Save yourself. ~ Bray Wyatt

Elizabeth," he said with reassuring calm, "I gave you my word you'd be safe if you came today."
Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes and nodded, "I know. I also know I shouldn't be here. I really ought to leave. I should, shouldn't I?" Opening her eyes again, she looked beseechingly into his-the seduced asking the seducer for advice.
"Under the circumstances, I don't think I'm the one you ought to ask."
"I'll stay," she said after a moment and saw the tension in his shoulders relax. Unbuttoning her jacket, she gave it to him, along with her bonnet, and he took them over to the fireplace, hanging them on the pegs in the wall. "Stand by the fire," he ordered, walking over to the table and filling two glasses with wine, watching as she obeyed.
The front of her hair that had not been covered by her bonnet was damp, and Elizabeth reached up automatically, pulling out the combs that held it off her face on the sides and giving the mass a hard shake. Unconscious of the seductiveness of her gesture, she raised her hands, combing her fingers through the sides of it and lifting it.
She glanced toward Ian and saw him standing perfectly still beside the table, watching her. Something in his expression made her hastily drop her hands, and the spell was broken, but the effect of that warmly intimate look in his eyes was vibrantly, alarmingly alive, and the full import of the risk she was taking by being here made Elizabeth begin to quake inside. She did not know this ~ Judith McNaught

No wicked man knows happiness, and least of all the seducer of others. ~ Juvenal

Beauty is the greatest seducer of men. ~ Paulo Coelho

Once, he'd been the Seducer, the Executioner, the High Priest of the Hourglass, the Prince of the Darkness, the High Lord of Hell.

Once, he'd been Consort to Cassandra, the great Black-Jeweled, Black Widow Queen, the last Witch to walk the Realms.

Once, he'd been the only Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood, feared for his temper and the power he wielded.

Once, he'd been the only male who was a Black Widow.

Once, he'd ruled the Dhemlan Territory in the Realm of Terreille and her sister Territory in Kaeleer, the Shadow Realm. He'd been the only male ever to rule without answering to a Queen and, except for Witch, the only member of the Blood to rule Territories in two Realms.

Once, he'd been married to Hekatah, an aristo Black Widow Priestess from one of Hayll's Hundred Families.

Once, he'd raised two sons, Mephis and Peyton. He'd played games with them, told them stories, read to them, healed their skinned knees and broken hearts, taught them Craft and Blood Law, showered them with his love of the land as well as music, art, and literature, encouraged them to look with eager eyes upon all that the Realms had to offer - not to conquer but to learn. He'd taught them to dance for a social occasion and to dance for the glory of Witch. He'd taught them how to be Blood.

But that was a long, long time ago. ~ Anne Bishop

Let Love Move You ...
If you can't stop thinking of her, it's because her essence has left an imprint on your heart ... on your soul ...
Don't be afraid of this feeling; be nourished by it ...
Let it stir your entire being ...
Let it help release your greatest self ...
Let it inspire you to be loving ... to be respectful ... to be romantic ... to be intelligent ... to be passionate ... to be a good listener ... to be appreciative ...
Let this wonderful feeling move you to become a passionate love maker ... a ravenous seducer ...
Do not be afraid of this deep love! Let it reveal the best of you ...
Let this feeling encourage you to behave in an honest and sincere manner ...
So that you may be more than a person she would settle for ... so that you may be a person she would yearn for. ~ Steve Maraboli

Machiavelli is the complete contrary of a machiavellian, since he describes the tricks of power and gives the whole show away. The seducer and the politician, who live in the dialectic and have a feeling and instinct for it, try their best to keep it hidden. ~ Maurice Merleau Ponty

Nicolai, the Dark Seducer as his people called him, had been in bed, but not alone. He was never alone. He was a man known for the violence of his temper as well as the deliciousness of his touch ~ Gena Showalter

He was moderately truthful towards men, but to women lied like a Cretan-a system of ethics above all others calculated to win popularity at the first flush of admission into lively society. ~ Thomas Hardy

...but of all the women who've come to me with an unwanted pregnacy, Leila is the first who has ever asked me to save her child. I stand looking down at her. (...) It is as if I were looking at the archetypal image of the woman who surrenders to the craft of the seducer, who opens her heart and releases the bounty of her love in a most ill-advised way. Seduced and abandoned - it's an old, old story, and Leila, in her tenderness and beauty, summarises millennia of suffering, millennia of heartbreak and despair. ~ Kooshyar Karimi

The King of Hell was everything they said he was, both less and more. He was reputed to have the ability to seduce an abbess or the pope himself, and she could see why. It wasn't his physical beauty, which was considerable. He had dark blue eyes behind a fringe of ridiculously long lashes, pale, beautiful skin, the kind of mouth that could bring despair and delight- and what the hell was she doing, thinking about such things?
He looked younger than his reputed age, around forty, and while his long dark hair was streaked with silver it only made him seem more leonine, more dangerous. He was tall, and he moved with an elegant grace that put dancers to shame. He was standing far too close to her, to the gun she'd stolen from Jacobs while he was busy with the carriage, and he was looking at her with far too much interest and absolutely no fear. ~ Anne Stuart

And who talks of error now? I scarcely think the notion that flittered across my brain was an error. I believe it was an inspiration rather than a temptation: it was very genial, very soothing - I know that. Here it comes again! It is no devil, I assure you; or if it be, it has put on the robes of an angel of light. I think I must admit so fair a guest when it asks entrance to my heart."

"Distrust it, sir; it is not a true angel."

"Once more, how do you know? By what instinct do you pretend to distinguish between a fallen seraph of the abyss and a messenger from the eternal throne - between a guide and a seducer?"

"I judged by your countenance, sir, which was troubled when you said the suggestion had returned upon you. I feel sure it will work you more misery if you listen to it."

"Not at all - it bears the most gracious message in the world: for the rest, you are not my conscience-keeper, so don't make yourself uneasy. Here, come in, bonny wanderer!"

He said this as if he spoke to a vision, viewless to any eye but his own; then, folding his arms, which he had half extended, on his chest, he seemed to enclose in their embrace the invisible being.

"Now," he continued, again addressing me, "I have received the pilgrim - a disguised deity, as I verily believe. Already it has done me good: my heart was a sort of charnel; it will now be a shrine. ~ Charlotte Bronte

What am I? The modest narrator who accompanies your triumphs; the dancer who supports you when you rise in your lovely grace; the branch upon which you rest a moment when you are tired of flying; the bass that interposes itself below the soprano's fervour to let it climb even higher - what am I? I am the earthly gravity that keeps you on the ground. What am I, then? Body, mass, earth, dust and ashes. - You, my Cordelia, you are soul and spirit."

- Johannes the Seducer, from_Either/Or_ ~ Søren Kierkegaard

Surely it is an excellent plan, when you are seated before delicacies and choice foods, to impress upon your imagination that this is the dead body of a fish, that the dead body of a bird or a pig; and again, that the Falernian wine is grape juice and that robe of purple a lamb's fleece dipped in a shellfish's blood; and in matters of sex intercourse, that it is the attrition of an entrail and a convulsive expulsion of a mere mucus. Surely these are excellent imaginations, going to the heart of actual facts and penetrating them so as to see the kind of things they really are. You should adopt this practice all through your life, and where things make an impression which is very plausible, uncover their nakedness, see into their cheapness, strip off the profession on which they vaunt themselves. For pride is an arch-seducer of reason, and just when you fancy you are most certainly busy in good works, then you are mostly certainly guilty of imposture. ~ Marcus Aurelius

[Mr. Jones] was uncommonly bad at seduction if he though talk of common capital and incorporation would do the trick, but she could think of no other reason he would lavish her with such time and care.

Except the impossible one: No motive but to help her. Such purity didn't exist, though. If it did …

If it did, he'd be a dangerously good seducer. ~ Alison Atlee

Surely, one kiss wasn't enough to turn Fielding the virgin into Fielding the seducer. ~ Eli Easton

I know that our efforts all come to nothing. I know the end of us all is nothing, I know that at the end of Time, the reward of our toil will be nothing - and again nothing. I know that all our handiwork will be destroyed. I know that not even ash will be left from the fires that consume us. I know that our ideals, even those we achieve, will vanish in the eternal darkness of oblivion and final non-being. There is no hope, none, in my heart. No promise, none, can I make to myself and to others. No recompense can I expect for my labors. No fruit will be born of my thoughts. The Future - eternal seducer of all men, eternal cause of all effects - offers me nothing but the blank prospect of annihilation. ~ Giovanni Papini

Damn Ani," he panted, as she licked him clean and then tucked him into his pants.

"Where did you learn that?"

"Adam."

"What?" Creed had dropped his hands to her shoulders, and they tightened into claws.

"Adam Yates. You know him. The Seducer? Ow. Your fingers--"

"When?" His voice matched his expression, filled with rage and raw possession. It was kinda hot, and a little scary.

"I had sessions with him a long time ago. I needed to learn to seduce guys for assignments. He taught me how to kiss and touch a guy and give blow jobs and that thing with my tongue and your-"

"Stop. Jesus Christ, stop."

"You asked," she muttered....

~Creed/Annika ~ Sydney Croft

She didn't want to think about how wrong this was or how foolish it was to give herself to a known seducer. Because tonight Oliver wasn't that man. Not to her. He was the boy who'd cried over his dead mother, the young man who'd lost himself in drink and women to forget the past, the marquess who'd vowed not to marry for money. He was the man to be her lover. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Music is my enchanter, the seducer of my emotions, the fire and ice that moves me. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Cassio is a ladies' man, that is to say, a man who feels most at home in feminine company where his looks and good manners make him popular, but is ill at ease in the company of his own sex because he is unsure of his own masculinity.
[…]
Cassio is a ladies' man, not a seducer. With women of his own class, what he enjoys is socialized eroticism; he would be frightened of a serious personal passion. For physical sex he goes to prostitutes and when, unexpectedly, Bianca falls in love with him, like many of his kind, he behaves like a cad and brags of his conquest to others. ~ W.H. Auden

Pleasure is an attitude, not a person or place. - Diary 6, pg. 52 ~ Anais Nin

If this is the case, then the "normal state" Prozac ushers in is an experience in the surreal, Dali's dripping clock, a disorientation so deep and sweet you spin. Thus Prozac, make no mistake about it, blissed me out and freaked me out and later on, when the full force of health hit me, sometimes stunned me with grief. ~ Lauren Slater

We should keep a careful diary of our moments of envy: they are our covert guides to what we should try to do next. ~ Alain De Botton

I haven't got time to read books.'
'What do you mean you haven't got time? What are yo
u doing?'
'Lots of things: studying French, writing a diary,
and ...'
'And what?'
She was about to say 'waiting for the phone to ring
', but she thought it best to say nothing.
'My dear, you're still very young, you've got your
whole life ahead of you. Read. Forget
everything you've been told about books and just re
ad.'
'I've read loads of books. ~ Paulo Coelho

With acting, I get to escape into this character and embody it. With music it's like, "Hey guys, this is my diary, here's all my feelings." ~ Taryn Manning

By precluding meaningful communication it fosters misunderstanding on both sides."
(Freedom Rider Diary: Smuggled Notes from Parchman Prison, p. 49) ~ Carol Ruth Silver

The course of one's life is a difficult thing."

-from "Diary of My Sixteenth Year ~ Yasunari Kawabata