Quotes About Compulsion

Lucy Green couldn't stop reading. She was a secret reader...

What had she thought, that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, just to play with? Real love was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didn't let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.

But those women who wanted someone else's husband, they were the worst. They would do absolutely anything for love. They got all twisted up, like rubber bands, just from the heat of their desire, and they didn't give a damn for convention and good manners.

Accordingly, I believe that preaching forgiveness is not only hypocritical and futile but also actively dangerous. It masks the compulsion to repeat.

She hadn't been just a once-through reader either. Brothers Karamazov, Mill on the Floss, Wings of the Dove, Magic Mountain, over and over again. She would pick one up, thinking that she would just read that special bit -and find herself unable to stop until the whole thing was redigested

The more gratification we found in our own geniuses, the more isolated we grew... And in this isolation, our creativity took on an aspect of compulsion.

Most of our smoking is done without thinking.

only reason you ever thought it did was because each joint brought a little bit of relief from the craving caused by the one before.

She was the scab he couldn't stop picking, the split lip he couldn't stop biting at, the loose thread he couldn't stop tugging

He never had any choices.

Whether we're addicted to cigarettes, chocolate, alcohol, shopping, gambling, or biting our nails, the moment we cease the habitual action, chaos rages between the body and the mind.

My first wife was like the rash you get from poison ivy. I couldn't stand her, but I couldn't keep my hands off her. She was an itch I scratched until I bled--and then I scratched it some more!

Danny did not think coke and computers were anything alike. But Jude had seen the way people hunched over their screens, clicking the refresh button again and again, waiting for some crucial if meaningless hit of information, and he thought it was almost exactly the same.

money he didn't have, but fuck it, that was the easiest kind to spend—and

If books were girls, and reading was s-ss-ssss—fucking, this would be the biggest whorehouse in the county and I'd be the most ruthless pimp you ever met.

Sometimes I feel as if mountains have become an addiction, the pleasure gone, the compulsion to partake remaining. Rarely blessed with the enjoyment of the moment, I had come to realise the satisfaction of going to the limit, physically and mentally, of dipping into danger and exhaustion, of returning full of enthusiasm for life and appreciation for every part of existence.

Because his killing is not a passion of the moment but a compelling urge that has been growing within him sometimes for years, he has completely amalgamated this practice into his lifestyle.

His body jerked as it trembled, and she recognized the nerves overtaking passion. The uncontrollable shaking came when a sub felt his true vulnerability to a Mistress's will for the first time, an anxiety that came with relinquishing control to someone by some compulsion that defied issues of logic, strength or bindings.

It is his incurable illness to regard the accidental as necessary.

If, indeed, anyone should think that, in the communistic society, man must still remain under some form of compulsion in order to, do what is right, and leave off what is wrong, he had better give up communism at once and abandon all hope for the human race.

At all events, in a society, all of whose members are free, and equal in the true sense of the words, there is no other means than free contracts, by which to form combinations or build up relations of any kind. Compulsion by laws of any kind or in any form is absolutely excluded by the very orders of liberty and equality.

Law is mighty, mightier necessity.

All force strives forward to work far and wide To live and grow and ever to expand; Yet we are checked and thwarted on each side By the world's flux and swept along like sand: In this internal storm and outward tide We hear a promise, hard to understand: From the compulsion that all creatures binds, Who overcomes himself, his freedom finds.

My life has not been the best possible. The slave of impulse, I have rushed forward to my own destruction.