Quotes About Compulsion

Ideas only act if they are felt, if they awaken inner movement. Inner movement is conditioned by self-motivation, outer movement by compulsion.

Writing is a sickness only cured by writing.

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.

I'm just trying to explain what happened in a way that, perhaps with time, you'll be able to understand. It wasn't a choice, you see. At any rate, it never felt like a choice. It felt like...I don't know. A compulsion, maybe?

If you want a thing--truly want it, want it so badly that you need it as you need air to breathe, then unless you die, you will have it. Why not? It has you. There is no escape. What a cruel and terrible thing escape would be if escape were possible

People who are intelligent, ambitious, and at the same time, in the grip of odd obsessions can be dangerous.

People who are intelligent, ambitious, and at the same time, in the grip of odd obsessions can be dangerous. When they occur, they inevitably upset things.

Mengele's greatest passion. He collected

Necessity has no law.

Man becomes a slave to his constantly repeated acts. What he at first chooses, at last compels.

I hate television. I hate it as much as peanuts. But I can't stop eating peanuts.

One of my tragic flaws is the compulsion to add to every situation -a quality which has made people call me at times a liar- but I have almost never embellished in order to bring myself any advantage;

us were able to do so. Our eating may be out of control

Whatever the case, after years of making vows and saying prayers but then eating compulsively again, we were left without faith that God could restore us to sanity about food. We believed intellectually that God could do anything, but deep in our hearts we "knew" God couldn't help us with this area of our lives. It was this negative concept about God we had to change if we were to find recovery.

It's the menace that everyone loves to hate but can't seem to live without.

Obsessions are the only things that matter.

Crack seemed to have a different hold on folks than liquor did. Drunks would sober up and come to their senses in the morning. But once a crackhead got hooked all they did was chase that high. Even if it meant selling everything they owned for a hit: wedding rings, household appliances, their kids' clothes. Anything that had been important didn't matter anymore.

For the addict, however, there is no choice. No choice. The addiction is in charge.

I think this early interest was the beginning of my obsession. My sexual interests and cutting up dead animals slowly merged. I don't remember being sexually stimulated as a kid when I was engaged in this behavior, but I do know that it gave me great pleasure and that it consumed a lot of my time and thoughts. At any rate, the two thoughts became one, and I couldn't think about sex with a man without also having thoughts of cutting open his human body and examining the insides.

I never heard voices. It possibly could have been the devil. I don't know, but I do know that at the time I formulated my decisions to kill, thoughts of the devil never entered into it. I knew something was compelling me to act, but I figured that it was my own selfish, sick need to gratify myself in this way. I just don't know.

Now that I've seen her, I can't stop seeing her.

I began to feel that itch that every writer longs for: the itch to start getting words down, the itch to tell a story.

But Jesus, people need, you know? I know that. They need things and they don't know why, they just need them.

She was a greedy thing sometimes. Wanting for herself. Twisting the world all out of proper shape. Pushing everything about with the weight of her desire.