Quotes About Possession

Whatever possession we gain by our sword cannot be sure or lasting, but the love gained by kindness and moderation is certain and durable.

It is not knowledge, but the act of learning, not possession but the act of getting there, which grants the greatest enjoyment.

Bottles of wine aren't like paintings. At some point you have to consume them. The object in life is to die with no bottles of wine in your cellar. To drink your last bottle of wine and go to sleep that night and not wake up.

To love someone is to isolate him from the world, wipe out every trace of him, dispossess him of his shadow, drag him into a murderous future. It is to circle around the other like a dead star and absorb him into a black light.

I collect art. That's my weakness. I keep saying, "We've got to put a moratorium on it, we don't have room," but I keep buying it.

He whirled round and round in his rapid love; it pricked him on the breastbone like a needle. He wanted to be shut up in a small space to think about it. He wanted to grab it and eat it like an apple so that nobody else could have it.

We are all blind thinking that life consists of possessing material goods, holding onto this, then that, getting to know one thing, then another, then trying desperately to ignore the fact that the whole process inevitably amounts to absolutely nothing. Life isn't a game where you have to possess and know as many things as possible. Rather, it is about reducing yourself to zero, living in a new and more authentic way.

Aside from the obvious, Francesca, what do you want in return for supplying information?" Bones asked, getting back to the subject. You to take me," she replied at once. Not gonna happen!" I spat, squeezing him possessively. Three sets of widened eyes fixed on me. That's when I realized that what I had a firm grip on was no longer his hand.

She's my kitten, and no one else's.

Amor en los tiempos del cólera, first in Spanish, then again in English. No one can take this from her. This book is hers alone.

Obsessive love is built on a tissue of illusions: that by having sex with someone you can possess that person's soul; that you can transmute past defeats into present triumphs without understanding or mourning; that you make the unloving love you by constancy, uncomplaining availability, and molding yourself into what you thing that person wants.

To eat is to appropriate by destruction.

Hey!" he shouted. "This is my fucking Lake of Death. I have complete and utter exclusive rights to sailing this lake. Get the fuck off my lake!

If we keep him for ourselves, we can do anything we want with him!' 'OH, REALLY?! Does that include baking him in a quiche?!' 'NO, IT DOES NOT INCLUDE THAT! IT INCLUDES EATING HIM RAW!' 'That's too bad. He would've made a fine pastry filling.

She'd probably be more upset over the loss of her phone than being kidnapped.

In my absence, the surveyor had become a kind of frenzied serial killer of the inanimate.

Whenever you are faced with the prospect of purchasing gloves, you must ask yourself if you would be bereft to lose one of them in the back of a taxicab. If not, then don't buy them. You should only buy gloves so beautiful that to lose one of them would break your heart.

He went to stand next to the bed and even though the room was unlit, he could make out, faintly, her slight form beneath the covers. The sight somehow calmed his soul. She lay in his bed, in his house, and no matter what bargain she thought she'd made with him, he knew the truth. He had no plans to let her go—ever.

And she arched, screaming, the lightning blazing from her center, sparking through her limbs, flying out her fingertips. She was incandescent. He fell atop her, heavy and male, pulling her legs up around his narrow hips, and ground down into her, once, twice. His cock jerked within her and she could feel every muscle in his body tense. He groaned into her ear like a man dying and then fell senseless and limp. And as she followed him into exhausted slumber she heard his single word: Mine .

She lies! cried the Fox, and he leapt toward her, his arm raised. The Wolf lunged, seized the Fox's right arm, twisted it up behind his back, and slammed the other man to his knees. Iris stared and felt a tremble shake her body. She'd never seen a man move so swiftly. Nor so brutally. The Wolf bent over his prey, both men panting, their naked bodies sweating. The snout of the Wolf mask pressed against the Fox's vulnerable bent neck. Don't. Touch. What. Is. Mine.

A beautiful garden and a beautiful woman have much in common. They both bring peace and tranquillity to the man who is fortunate enough to possess them. Rachel was silent. To be possessed by Jeronimo was a dream she could never aspire to, but she would remember his words for ever.

So far we have had a séance, with spirit possession, a White Lady walking by night, a perambulating suit of armor, a diabolical character in a black cloak, and even a semi-dead man with a look of stark staring horror. It isn't even good horror fiction; it's straight out of The Mysteries of Udolpho. By some straining of the brain I could believe in ghosts; but I can't believe in a ghost that acts like Terror Comics.

Women want to own a man, and that grows irksome.

For this reason, it is useless to argue who is the more important, the capitalist who has legal possession of most of the material fruit of dead men's toil, or the laborer who has legal possession of but little of it. In the laborer, we do not now really look for his physical muscular labor alone; for this is replaced by mechanical or animal power as soon as [pg 108] it can be. What we do need from labor, and what we will always need, is his brain—his time-binding power.