Quotes About Obsession

How I feel is that if I wanted anything I'd take it. That's what I've always thought all my life. But it happens that I want you, and so I just haven't room for any other desires.

Like everyone else, I want to sleep with Leonardo DiCaprio.

If he's forgotten me, I'll make him remember me. I'll make him want me again.

Dwelling on him would make him a bigger part of my life than I want him to be.

I never wanted anything so much, I've got to have one. I want a girl in a pickup truck.

Is she forever for you then? She's worth throwing it all away?" "She's it. No one else. She's all I'm ever going to want.

It's just what I am. When I am in the zone making one movie, I just didn't want to read anything else or do anything else, so I don't really develop projects.

It's what we call a dolce pazzia... a sweet madness. Once you feel it, you will never want to leave it.

I used to be obsessed about how I presented myself. I didn't want other people dressing me because I didn't want to be treated like a clothes horse.

I'm not so much a good friend as I'm the savior who wants you to worship him forever.

Not everyone who wants to make a film is crazy, but almost everyone who is crazy wants to make a film.

Addiction is when you can't get enough of what you don't want any more.

Even when you self-destruct, you want to fail more, lose more, die more than others, stink more than others.

A society that's addicted to narratives with beginnings, middles, and endings will eventually yearn to end. We just want it to end.

The more you dream of one particular and pleasing thing, Ralata, the quicker it palls. The edges get worn down, the lustre fades. To leave such obsessions behind, dream of them often.

She'd forgotten what love could do, as it threaded its roots through her entire soul, as it tugged and pulled at her thoughts, obsession ripening like seductive fruit. She felt only its life, thickening within her, claiming all she was.

Has it not occurred to you that clinical examination of oneself is yet another obsession? What you dissect has to be dead first – that's the principle of dissection, after all.

When curses collide, you might say. Flaws and virtues, the many faces of fateful obsession, of singular purpose. Powers and wills are drawn together, as if one must by nature seek the annihilation of the other. Thus, you and Icarium are now here, and we are moments from a dreadful convergence, and it is my fate to witness. Helpless unto desperate madness. Fortunately for my own sake, I have known this feeling before.

Madmen built houses of solid stone. Then circled looking for a way inside. Inside, where cosy perfection waited. People and schemes and outright lies barred his every effort, and that was the heart of the conspiracy. From outside, after all, the house looked real. Therefore it was real. Just a little more clawing at the stone door, a little more battering, one more pounding collision will burst that barrier. And on and on and round and round. The worn ruts of madness.

In a nutshell, calculus wants to make hard problems simpler. It is utterly obsessed with simplicity.

Interest is never enough. If it doesn't haunt you, you'll never write it well. What haunts and obsesses you may, with luck and labour, interest your readers. What merely interests you is sure to bore them. (from Workbook)

Soon I'll be thinner than all of you, she swore to herself. And then I'll be the winner. The thinner is the winner.

Kessa ran her fingers over her stomach. Flat. But was it flat enough? Not quite. She still had some way to go. Just to be safe, she told herself. Still, it was nice the way her pelvic bones rose like sharp hills on either side of her stomach. I love bones. Bones are beautiful.

Kessa began to cut her meat into tiny pieces. As a whole it was unmanageable, frightening; but divided and arranged, the meat could be controlled. She cut four pieces. She'd count to four between each bite.