Quotes About Compulsion

One starts an action simply because one must do something.

Very frequently, feminine activity also expresses itself in what is largely a retrospectively oriented pondering over what we ought to have done differently in life, and how we ought to have done it; or, as if under compulsion, we make up strings of causal connections. We like to call this thinking; though, on the contrary, it is a form of mental activity that is strangely pointless and unproductive, a form that really leads only to self-torture.

I wrote because I had to. I couldn't stop. There wasn't anything else I could do. If no one ever bought anything, anything I ever did, I'd still be writing. It's beyond a compulsion.

He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.

Men are always wicked at bottom unless they are made good by some compulsion.

Addiction has a more powerful pull than just about anything else on earth.

Writers write because they have stories they need desperately to tell, and things they need just as vitally to say. It's not something where you have to go out and find an idea to write about, they're begging to be written. If you have nothing to say, and no story to tell...and I'm not being harsh, just honest...you're probably not a writer.

What kind of a maniac needed over five thousand plates?

I figure it doesn't work that way. It finds you, and it grabs you by the throat and you can't do a damn thing about it.

All I know is, she's a pounding in my chest that I can't ignore. . . hell, that I don't WANT to ignore. [Rhage]

There came a time in everyone's life when they realized that in spite of how hard they'd been running from themselves, everywhere they went, there they were: Addictions and compulsions were nothing but marching bands of distraction, masking truths that were unpleasant, but ultimately undeniable.

V tired to imagine giving up his proclivities. My monster needs to get out. Especially now.

It was everything dirty and wrong and evil and degrading, and he did it over and over again to keep his secret safe. And also because his dark side got off on it. It was Love, Symphath Style

Turned out, her version of true love had a compulsive element to it. Made sense. Happiness had always bored her. A cycle of aching need, followed by ecstatic acquisition or fulfillment, culminating with a glow of satisfaction? That was her fucking jam.

Edgar Allan Poe called it "the imp of the perverse," that willful, self-destructive voice within that impels us to do things or say things that cause our undoing.

I have finally taught Dean that he can do anything he wants, become mayor of Denver, marry a millionairess, or become the greatest poet since Rimbaud. But he keeps rushing out to see the midget auto races

He had become completely mad in his movements; He seemed to be doing everything at the same time. It was a shaking of the head, up and down, sideways; jerky, vigorous hands; quick walking, sitting, crossing the legs, uncrossing, getting up, rubbing the hands, rubbing his fly, hitching his pants, looking up and saying 'Am,' and sudden slitting of the eyes to see everywhere; and all the time he was grabbing me by the ribs and talking, talking

in his gambling, he had one besetting weakness -- faith in a system; and this made his damnation certain.

I have had to come to terms with the fact that I am hooked on Twitter. Not good.

I prefer not to fly, but sometimes it's unavoidable.

A wise man will see to it that his acts always seem voluntary and not done by compulsion, however much he may be compelled by necessity.

Everything that you do under compulsion goes to build up attachment. Why

Delusion is not just fantasy but compulsion.

I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.