John Fowles Quotes

When a woman says she won't, it's a good sign that she will. And when she says she will, it is an even better sign.

Women are beautiful when they're young, and not after. Men can still preserve their sex appeal well into old age.... Some men can maintain, if they embrace it ... cragginess, weary masculinity. Women just get old and fat and wrinkly.

Someone will ask later, sometimes searching for a name, his own or someone's else's why I neglected his sadness or his love... But I didn't have enough time or ink for everyone. Or maybe it was the strain of the city, of time the cold heart of the clocks.

Those who run around with women don't walk tightropes. They find it hard enough to crawl on the ground.

O thanks be to the great God I got somebody to give me what I badly wanted to put some heart up into me youve no chances at all inthis place like you used long ago I wish somebody would write me a loveletter.

Beauty! thou pretty plaything! dear deceit, That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart, And gives it a new pulse unknown before!

Challenge, and not desire, lies at the heart of seduction.

Christophe's smile was a marvel of edged sweetness. When he grinned like that he looked handsomer than ever, the hint of danger just about threatening to stop a girl's heart.

Can officially confirm that the way to a man's heart these days is not through beauty, food, sex, or alluringness of character, but merely the ability to seem not very interested in him.

When I'm not in a relationship, I shave one leg. That way, when I sleep, it feels like I'm with a woman.

The tragedy of love is not death or separation. How long do you think it would have been before one or other of them ceased to care? Oh, it is dreadfully bitter to look at a woman whom you have loved with all your heart and soul, so that you felt you could not bear to let her out of your sight, and realize that you would not mind if you never saw her again. The tragedy of love is indifference.

What our grandmothers told us about playing hard to get is true. The whole point of the game is to impress and capture. It's not about honesty. Many men and women, when they're playing the courtship game, deceive so they can win. Novelty, excitement and danger drive up dopamine in the brain. And both sexes brag.

The whole world is strewn with snares, traps, gins and pitfalls for the capture of men by women.

My son, beware of a plain damsel who charmeth thee, for she needeth much wile, and useth diverse weapons.

Anya made you kiss her? Yeah. And at our next stop, I'll expect you to deliver. I'll pay, William piped up. After you describe everything about that kiss you two shared. Did you cop a feel? You did, didn't you, you little hussy. I bet you moaned a lot, too. Too late for you to pay, she said in a sing song voice. Strider already offered, and I already accepted. And no, I won't do any describing. You can just imagine how sexy it was. Oh, and Willie. Just so you know, your imagination won't do it justice.

I have mentally become a woman in order to steal into her heart.

Lady, lady, never start Conversation toward your heart; Keep your pretty words serene; Never murmur what you mean. Show yourself, by word and look, Swift and shallow as a brook. Be as cool and quick to go As a drop of April snow; Be as delicate and gay As a cherry flower in May. Lady, lady, never speak Of the tears that burn your cheek- She will never win him, whose Words had shown she feared to lose. Be you wise and never sad, You will get your lovely lad. Never serious be, nor true, And your wish will come to you- And if that makes you happy, kid, You'll be the first it ever did.

A man who flatters a woman hopes either to find her a fool or to make her one.

He in a few minutes ravished this fair creature, or at least would have ravished her, if she had not, by a timely compliance, prevented him.

There is no honest woman with an uncorrupted heart whom a man is not sure of conquering by dint of gratitude. It is one of the surest and shortest means.

I succeeded in using my charms like a weapon; I learned to play with other's hearts and to master my own desires.

He had a smug smile on his lips like he knew, even in his sleep, that women all around him were dying from love because he'd taken their hearts and hidden them where they'd never find them.

How often, in this cold and bitter world, is the warm heart thrown back upon itself! Cold, careless, are we of another's grief; we wrap ourselves in sullen selfishness.