Quotes About Obsession

The dark fever I'd caught that first night I'd set foot in Dublin had turned into a fever of a different kind: a bloodfever—as in I wanted blood, spilled for my sister.

lust, greed, desire, and supremacy;

Stupendous sex is a drug, addictive, consuming. I know from personal experience.

Dude, we're talking immortality. There ain't no price too high!

There's no place on Earth, feck, there's no place in all of heaven or hell that they'll ever be safe from me again!

I ignored her and continued down the hall. I had only four more hours to perfect the Sausalito. I was worried only about myself. By that stage, I was no longer certain of how the pack felt about anything.

We've all loved someone way too freakin' much.

While I am absorbed by fiction, I pull the strings like a puppeteer; I make things happen. It's a passion and a lifelong obsession.

This damn ring had derailed her life. No wonder Gollum had gone insane.

There is no more unhappy being under the sun than a fetishist who pines for a boot and has to content himself with an entire woman.

There is no more unfortunate creature under the sun than a fetishist who yearns for a woman's shoe and has to settle for the whole woman.

Books are a hard-bound drug with no danger of an overdose. I am the happy victim of books.

I want to see as many movies as I can and I covet a lot of weird influential movies.

Hawk was like a man gone mad. He'd hardly slept all night for worrying about her, and here she was, calmly riding back to Fort Laramie and her lover. He longed, at that moment, to put his hands around her slender throat and choke some sense into her.

I don't like the word infatuated. It sounds like something bad, like 'inflicted' or 'incurable,' not to speak of 'inefficient' or 'indulgent.' As if you want to love someone but it goes wrong and you get infatuated instead.

It is as if Quincey has replaced the sun in my universe and it is around him that I spin.

I want to watch you sleeping," he said. "Go to sleep." For a long time Stephen listened to Mina breathing. He turned in the chair to look out the window, pinching himself to stay awake. The moon was not out – the night was very dark. Much later the room behind him seemed to lighten. He opened the window to let the night in, to let what was inside get out. And then, slowly, he turned around to look at what was there. Mina is there. She is a vision.

She wished to sit down quietly and wait for her death, but not until she had cut the throats of her man and that girl who were laughing and kissing under the cornstalks.

Naturally, etiquette books order handwashing before as well as after meals, but the practice also appears, with a frequency that borders on obsession, in poetry. Poets found it hard to describe a banquet or even a meal without affirming that everyone washed their hands.

Once she started seeing them, she could never unsee them. They stalked her, shreds of magic clinging to the real world everywhere she turned.

Genuine mental health would involve a balanced interplay of both modes of experience, a way of life in which one's identification with the ego is playful and tentative rather than absolute and mandatory, while the concern with material possessions is pragmatic rather than obsessive.

A woman's love is quick to turn into a passion for revenge--an obsession that becomes an endless river of blood, flowing on from generation to generation.

What is madness...to go on platonically loving a woman who will never love you.

Moi ? C'est une image que je poursuis, rien de plus.