Quotes About Obsession

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

la passione amorosa separa terribilmente le sue vittime da tutti, tranne che dall'oggetto amoroso

What had come to pass within his walls lingered there as an obsession importunate to all his senses; it lived again, as a cluster of pleasant memories, at every hour and in every object; it made everything but itself irrelevant and tasteless. It remained, in a word, a conscious watchful presence, active on its own side, forever to be reckoned with, in face of which the effort at detachment was scarcely less futile than frivolous.

La focalización obsesiva en una cosa terrible llamada «inquisición» nos ha llevado a menudo a evocar a un Godzilla histórico que no coincide con la verdad ni con la realidad.

She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately--- a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us an we in each other's arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks--- a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die.

She may be lying in bed reading a book, she may be making love with a prize fighter, or she may be running like mad through a field of stubble, one shoe one, one shoe off, a man named Corn Cob pursuing her hotly. Wherever she is I am standing in complete darkness; her absence blots me out.

I shoot hot bolts into you, I make your ovaries incandescent […] I am fucking you, Tania, so that you'll stay fucked.

I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don't find them—not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever.

For seven years I went about, day and night, with only one thing on my mind – her. Were there a Christian so faithful to his God as I was to her we would all be Jesus Christs today.

Life, said Emerson, consists in what a man is thinking all day. If that be so, then my life is nothing but a big intestine. I not only think about food all day, but I dream about it at night.

To walk in money through the night crowd, protected by money, lulled by money, dulled by money, the crowd itself a money, the breath money, no least single object anywhere that is not money, money, money everywhere and still not enough, and then no money, or a little money or less money or more money, but money, always money, and if you have money or don't have money it is the money that counts and money makes money, but what makes money make money?

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

C'est un monde fait pour des monomaniaques obsédés par l'idée de progrès... mais d'un faux progrès qui pue. C'est un monde encombré d'objets inutiles que, pour mieux les exploiter et les dégrader, on a enseigné aux homes et femmes à considérer comme utiles.

the angel in man-- has also been my own life-long obsession. In a sense I believe it has always been the problem of the creative being... obsessed... with the idea of re-creating the world in order, as I see it, to re-establish man's innocence.

dijo Emerson, . Si es así, mi vida, no es más que un gran intestino. No sólo pienso en la comida todo el día, sino que, además, sueño con ella por la noche.

I know we were conjugating the verb love like two maniacs trying to fuck through an iron gate.

Zeven jaar lang heb ik dag en nacht met slechts een gedachte voor mijn geest rongelopen - haar. Als er maar een christen was die zo trouw aan zijn God was als ik aan haar, dan zouden we vandaag allemaal Jezus Christus zijn. Dag en nacht dacht ik aan haar, zelfs als ik haar bedroog.

She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately—a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us and we in each other's arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks—a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die.

Doi ucigaÈ™i iubindu-se pân? la moarte, din priviri. Nu este aceasta cea mai splendid? tortur??

Dostoyevski okumaya baÅŸlad???m o ilk gece, hayat?m?n en önemli olaylar?ndan biriydi, ilk aÅŸk?mdan bile daha önemli.

Life said Emerson, consists of what a man is thinking all day.If that be so, than my life is nothing but a big intestine. I not only dream about food all day, but I dream about it at night.

To walk in money through the night crowd, protected by money, lulled by money, dulled by money, the crowd itself a money, the breath money, no least single object anywhere that is not money, money, money everywhere and still not enough, and then no money, or a little money or less money or more money, but money, always money, and if you have money or you don't have money it is the money that counts and money makes money, but what makes money make money?

I understood then why it is that Paris attracts the tortured, the hallucinated, the great maniacs of love.

The problem with trying to leave politics is that once it gets in your blood, it can be like a narcotic. You know that it's no good for you, even that it's killing you, but you just can't leave it alone.