Quotes About Stalking

For a moment, as his arm touched mine, he was a creature of flesh and blood, but the next he was a hallucination again, a figment of the imagination stalking down the hallway as heedless of me as ghosts, in their shadowy

Rocky had only worked once with a man who stalked his ex-girlfriend, and he came to therapy because he was convinced that going to therapy would get his girlfriend back. She had been struck by the absolute singularity of his pursuit; he became a laser beam, breaking into his ex-girlfriend's computer, accessing her e-mail, her post office box, even tapping into her parent's phone messages.

Obsession is not immediate. It stalks you. It creeps up on you until it's too late to escape it.

She thinks you're stalking me." "Why the hell would I do that? I see too much of your ugly mug as it is.

She thinks you're stalking me.""Why the hell would I do that? I see too much of your ugly mug as it is.

Bush said today he is being stalked. He said wherever he goes, people are following him. Finally, someone told him, 'Psst. That's the Secret Service.'

Early in life, stalkers learned how to hate, but unlike common criminals, they learned self-restraint also. They held their hatred in check. Few of the dangerous ones, the ones with the mind-set of an assassin, got in trouble with the police.

Bishop's brows went up. "Okay, fine. Yes, I followed you here. Better?" "Yes. Stalkery, but better." "I'm not stalking you." "Spoken like a true stalker." -- Bishop and Samantha, page 79

Did you follow me here?" "Something like that." I let out a frustrated groan. "Can't anyone just talk to me straight? Why is everyone avoiding my damn questions tonight?" Bishop's brows went up. "Okay, fine. Yes, I followed you here. Better?" "Yes. Stalkery, but better." "I'm not stalking you." "Spoken like a true stalker

Where's Kraven? Is he stalking me too?" His mouth went tight. "I'm not stalking you.

even if he had to coax her kiss by slow kiss. Cats were good at coaxing. It was only a more sensual aspect of their favorite game—stalking.

Mercy made a sound of frustration. "I hate waiting." "Leopards are good stalkers." "The human half of me prefers action.

I know police work and death, I understand the intricacies of diplomacy and the strange sharp angles where performance art and outlaws, tattoos and high society meet and mingle. I also knew what she didn't: that stalking a professional killer is not a game, not a hobby you can learn on the weekend. Not when the stakes are your life.

Not mere luck. I am stalking Mercy. Of course I was around, because that's what stalkers do, or so I've read. It's my new hobby.