Quotes About Compulsion

The more guilt and shame that we have buried within ourselves, the more compelled we feel to seek relief through sin.

The basis of all ministry is the experience of God's unlimited and unlimiting acceptance of us as beloved children, an acceptance so full, so total, and all-embracing, that it sets us free from our compulsion to be seen, praised, and admired and frees us for Christ, who leads us on the road of service.

How can I retrace to-day the strange steps of my obsession?

slaying everything within reach in order to quiet the monster that gnaws at their vitals.

As a child, I was always making sound; it was a compulsion. I loved to scream and yell and sing; it freed me from all the thoughts in my head. I begged for opera lessons because opera singing is the most formidable, most emotional way to use your voice.

What happens with 'Mad Men,' it's like an Elvis Costello album; I'll watch it, and then I immediately have to watch it again. AMC will play it back-to-back. I have a tendency to yell at it when my wife's not around because if she catches me yelling at 'Mad Men,' then it gets weird.

Obsessional does not necessarily mean sexual obsession, not even obsession for this, or for that in particular; to be an obsessional means to find oneself caught in a mechanism, in a trap increasingly demanding and endless.

I think to be driven to want to kill must be such a terrible burden.

Only write if you can't not.

When he began to talk about Wyndham, it was almost with relief, as if his purpose in life was to tell that story over and over. To tell it until its last shard had been pulled from him. As he listened to himself, he realized that the story sounded practiced as it changed from event and recollection into language, as if each retelling were an attempt to scrub away the awfulness.

TB: The overexcited, overaroused, driven, compulsive state this person was in… could in no way be integrated with what we characterize as the moral, ethical, law-abiding part of the individual. We'd probably be more accurate if we stated that this normal self had been repressed… to such a degree that even the encounter with the first victim did not sufficiently arouse it… so it could take predominance.

He backed out, turned around and reversed into the slot, scratching the tires with each gear change, then didn't let himself drink any beer except one, and then another to hide the first, to stop his hands from shaking, and finally just three, to get it over with.

Sometimes Pupkin would swear off and keep away from the cursed thing for weeks, and then perhaps he'd see by sheer accident a pile of matches on the table, or a match lying on the floor and it would start the craze in him.

Humankind's compulsion has always been to master the meaning of their world. Through the ages humans have time and again tried to proclaim the nature of existence. Yet the sun has continued to shine on an enigmatic world, with the most imponderable aspect of that world being humans themselves.

They're like chocolate-chip cookies, though. Can't have just one.

We write because we have to, not because we want to

Obsession is a clever and insidious drug.

People often want the big dramatic works, not the smaller quieter ones, but I don't worry about how it fits together anymore; I just have to do it. I feel compelled to make a work: it's like an itch I have to scratch, and once it's been scratched, it goes away.

I like writers who seem to write because they have to. You get the feeling of this burning desire to tell a story. I find it in Peter Carey, Nicola Barker, Ali Smith and David Foster Wallace.

Coffee and smoking are the last great addictions.

Who wouldn't put an entire world on the line for the off chance of getting their hands on a creature that doesn't sleep and won't leave them alone?

How can an attraction rooted in such deep insecurity not result in obsession?

como una especie de droga; te exalta, pero a su vez crea una fuerte dependencia, por lo que es posible convertirse en un gran adicto a él. Y

needs must when the devil drives