Quotes About Obsession

I knew I was breaking about a dozen laws but I guess I had different attitudes to stuff like that since the war. Laws were for the stupid the immature the irresponsible. The inflexible and the narrow-minded. The prejudiced. The obsessive. The lazy and careless and selfish and spoilt. The violent.

I'd have scratched her eyes out and sucked the holes.

As men obsessed with the idea that all knowledge lies within a woman's body, but having entered it to find themselves as ignorant as before, they are driven towards all women again and again: in childish hope that somehow the next time they will find the treasure, and then the equally childish desire for revenge since it cannot be found, that knife in the unfathomable entrails; and they grow full of hatred.

So what do you think about love?' I asked Mesut in a casual tone. 'Love is to get caught on something,' he said readily. 'It's to be unable to forget.

Whereas once Marguerite had been obsessed with food- with heirloom tomatoes and lamb shanks and farmhouse cheeses, and fish still flopping on the counter, and eggs and chocolate and black truffles and foie gras and rare white nectarines- now the only thing that gave her genuine pleasure was reading.

Nostalgia is a narcotic.

did: In the first Place, by making no Person in the World a Confident in it; and in the next, in concealing from Beauplaisir himself the Knowledge who she was; for though she met him three or four Days in a Week, at the Lodging she had taken for that Purpose, yet as much as he employ'd her Time and Thoughts, she was never miss'd from any Assembly she had been accustomed to frequent.

time she was consumed with

She's my whole goddamned world.

Briefly, she thought of murder. Her hands itched for the wash of blood. But this was the blood she wanted.

He knew every inch of the thing's surface by now, had bloodied his fingertips with worrying at it, with picking at the spikes of the mouthpiece and exploring the curve and cheeks. It weighed as much as a small child in his arms, resting against his knees, and holding it close to his breast was the only thing that silenced the savage pain in his brands any more.

As he watched, the kiss was completed. Mallory pressed pink lips over the head woman's mouth, and Tristen could see the working between the corpse's teeth. Mallory's eyes closed, fingers fanning through brown hair to hold the head steady.

It's an addiction. An obsession. It is not safe.

It's not a scent, precisely, more a contagion, a trace of the passage of the one they hunt.

One has to commit a painting,' said Degas, 'the way one commits a crime.

Ghosts seem harder to please than we are; it is as though they haunted for haunting's sake -- much as we relive, brood, and smoulder over our pasts.

She had this one limitation, his darling Lois; she couldn't look on her own eyes, had no idea what she was, resented almost his attention being so constantly fixed on something she wasn't aware of.

Let me tell you about love. Love is a kind of madness and you would follow it anywhere, you don't care.

Limerence is an obsessive, unrequited love. It is actually a disorder. A disease if you will.

Non lavori al negozio tutti i giorni" "Conosci i miei orari?" "Non è difficile scoprirlo" " Ti rendi conto che è quello che fanno gli stalker... individuare gli orari delle loro vittime

That small caress, such a simple show of affection, unleashed something coiled deep within Kenric. In that moment he finally understood what drove men to wage wars over a woman, why a man would give almost anything to possess the woman he wanted above all others. No amount of gold, fame, or glory could come close to arousing the emotions she stirred in him. Nothing else in the world.

His hunger for knowledge gave him no rest, it was both his bane and his joy.

I see a stranger on the street and suddenly his eyes are your eyes, his smile is your smile. I'm going crazy. Hallucinating. And it's all because of you.

Charity didn't mean to waste the entire afternoon. But her favorite daytime drama was on the telly. It was always the same, she thought, stretching out on the bed to watch. The sex got her interested first, and then the story. Before long she was totally hooked, and deep into the intricate plots and the glamorous goings-on. And afterwards, she just felt drained. She was sound asleep by the time Lady Margaret came home.