Quotes About Morbid

Best to avoid morbid thoughts, Ursula counselled, advice that would stand him in good stead for the next three years. For the rest of his life, in fact.

The horror of that image has never diminished, but it has long ceased to be a morbid matter; as with a wound on one's own body, it is possible to develop an intimacy with the most disturbing of things.

They loved violence; they would run miles to see bloodshed; and they never missed a hanging.

The custom of eating the lover after consummination of the nuptials, of making a meal of the exhausted pigmy, who is henceforth good for nothing, is not so difficult to understand, since insects can hardly be accused of sentimentality; but to devour him during the act surpasses anything the most morbid mind could imagine. I have seen the thing with my own eyes, and I have not yet recovered from my surprise.

It's her way of honoring Marilyn, while trying to commune with her spirit, and I can never decide if it's morbid,creepy,pathetic,or all three.

Freud is completely obsessed with the nonsense about infantile sexual theories. There may possibly be children in Germany or Austria sufficiently morbid, but nothing of the sort ever crossed my own mind when I was a child—nor have I ever met a child so morbid.

You're morbid tonight," said Largo. "I'm morbid every night. I just don't always get the chance to share it with others.

I scrolled on down to the obituaries. I usually read the obituaries first as there is always the happy chance that one of them will make my day.

Sink into morbid, cynical reflection on how much romantic heartbreak is to do with ego and miffed pride rather than actual loss

I used to love hospitals. That's another weird thing about me. I remember when my grandmother -- so sweet, God rest her soul -- was in the hospital, I always loved visiting her there. Very morbid memory! Most people hate hospitals. And I'm not a big fan of them now, but there was something about it for me back then.

Tricoteuse (n.) A woman who knits; specifically, a woman who during the French Revolution would attend the guillotinings and knit while the heads were rolling. What I've learned from reading the OED has not been confined to vocabulary. I've also learned a good deal about the history of the unpleasantness of the human race, including the portrait of this unsympathetic character, the knitter who attends beheadings. Tripudiate

My room is like an antique shop, full of junk, and weird stuff. There's a big sword in there. And a taxidermy bird, and a couple of birdcages. And a lot of newspaper cuttings. I used to have a weird thing about cutting out morbid headlines from newspapers, and collecting them. I was fascinated with drowning, which is kind of strange.

BODY-SNATCHER, n. A robber of grave-worms. One who supplies the young physicians with that with which the old physicians have supplied the undertaker.

What's that old image about a sick person, when they're about to die, they turn their face to the wall? That's what ran through my head when I got over by the wall, of course. My mind isn't always so full of morbid notions, but even Mary Poppins would have had a grim thought or two if she'd had my last four days.

Alive. Alive in the way that death is alive.

Who wants to see life as it is, if they can help it? It's the three Gorgons in one. You look in their faces and turn to stone. Or it's Pan. You see him and you die - that is, inside you - and have to go on living as a ghost. - You have a poet in you but it's a damned morbid one!

But people often had a voyeur's excitement when they were close to a violent death, as if it conferred a degree of celebrity on them.

I am death-fearing. I don't think I'm morbid. That seems to me a fear of death that goes beyond the rational. Whereas it seems to me to be entirely rational to fear death!

He spoke of revisiting the bodies to perform sexual acts on them until putrefaction forced him to stop, of decapitating several of his victims and keeping their severed heads in his apartment. 

There's never been a time in my life that I wasn't impatient, ecstatic one moment, morbid as hell another, and ready to be reckless almost any time.

I just noticed I am morbid and drunk and bitter. I don't need that.

Does such a thing as 'the fatal flaw,' that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.

If this is the Big One, he thought while the window rattled, will I be buried with Greg and Les, and will we end up drawing straws to see who eats who? Will Greg's porky arm taste good, or will it taste as bad as he looks? Will I have to eat my toes one by one, like Vienna sausages?

People love to see death. It reminds them that however mean, however low, however horrible their lives become… at least they have one.