Tricking Quotes

“Stop!" Narcissus got to his feet. "This is not right! This person is obviously not awesome, so he must be..." He struggled for the right words. It had probably been a long time since he'd talked about anything other than himself. "He must be tricking us."

Apparently Narcissus wasn't completely stupid.”
― rick riordan, The Mark of Athena

“Disinformation is duping.
Misinformation is tricking.”
― Toba Beta, Master of Stupidity

“And that is why, when he finally did come across the street, I lit my cigarette with my lighter - not to make him feel like a fool who had fallen for a trick, but rather because he had said, 'you had better luck with matches,' when in fact I had not. It was not the matches that brought him across the street. It was the matches that kept him on the bench.”
― Adam Levin, The Instructions

“Live to Trick. Trick to live.”
― Armin Houman

“Tricking is a evolution of innovative movement & self Expression.”
― Armin Houman

“Take the discipline from Martial Arts, mix it with the air awareness of a gymnast, and the attitude of a breaker. Thats Tricking!”
― Armin Houman

“All that’s as it may be. But I don’t know what the author’ll say. He’s a conceited little ape and it’s not a bit the scene he wrote.'
'Oh, leave him to me. I’ll fix him.'
There was a knock at the door and it was the author himself who came in. With a cry of delight, Julia went up to him, threw her arms round his neck and kissed him on both cheeks.
'Are you pleased?'
'It looks like a success,' he answered, but a trifle coldly.
'My dear, it’ll run for a year.' She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him full in the face. 'But you’re a wicked, wicked man.'
'You almost ruined my performance. When I came to that bit in the second act and suddenly saw what it meant I nearly broke down. You knew what was in that scene, you’re the author; why did you let us rehearse it all the time as if there was no more in it than appeared on the surface? We’re only actors, how can you expect us to — to fathom your subtlety? It’s the best scene in your play and I almost bungled it. No one in the world could have written it but you. Your play’s brilliant, but in that scene there’s more than brilliance, there’s genius.'
The author flushed. Julia looked at him with veneration. He felt shy and happy and proud.
('In twenty-four hours the mug’ll think he really meant the scene to go like that.') .”
― W. Somerset Maugham, Theatre

“It was all in the means of expressing himself without anyone having to ever understand it.”
― Lauren Lola, A Moment's Worth

“Using trickery on the trickster to mend their ways, is not trickery, but the rightful use of intelligence.”
― Abhijit Naskar, Vatican Virus: The Forbidden Fiction

“He has all the beauty of an angel--- a chiseled face and a faint glow. But there's something wrong about him. A rawness that never melted down. His smile is crooked, forged by a false sense of happiness. Though, he is undeniably enthralling. Golden hair and sharpened bones. Fox-like eyes that trail my body as if it's for show. Silently undressing me. Ready to pounce. In another world, I might have let him.
I smile, fawning naivety as he takes a step closer. His red lips part with a grin as he brushes a weft of hair over my shoulder. I shiver as he trails my bare skin. His touch is delicate, careful not to startle me as my breathing hitches. Slowly, his fingers trace the vulnerable part of my throat, grazing gently instead of drawing blood. He's careful in his movements, taking his time, awakening my senses until I let out a kitten cry. His hand perches beneath my chin. Our eyes lock, trapped in honeyed heat, as his thumb strokes the fullness of my bottom lip.
"You're immaculate," he says. His voice is lush and dark. I tense, trying not to tremble as his tether possesses me. It becomes harder when he whispers, "I have never seen such a beautiful girl."
Electric shovers rattle my bones. My knees slacken, and he stabilizes my balance.
I refuse to give him the upper hand.
I press my palm against his chest, grazing right where his blouse parts. My eyes turn doe-like with wonder, honoring his beauty and tending his fragile ego. "Are we to be married now? I can't wait a moment longer."
He grins. "Soon, coquette."
I move my hand up to his neck. Not slow and delicate like he was with me. But feral, delicious, wanting. "I need you." I nearly pant.
That's it. That's enough to make him tick. He drinks me in like nectar, a sweet ambrosia brewed just for him. "Come," he says, offering his arm.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea