Quotes About Obsession

Like enthusiasts in general, he made no inquiries into details of procedure.

Why did Troy not leave my treasure alone?

Perhaps to know her would be to cure himself of this unexpected and unauthorized passion.

so that I could only be near you, and get glimpses of you, and think of you as mine.

Tess was the merest stray phenomenon to Angel Clare as yet—a rosy, warming apparition which had only just acquired the attribute of persistence in his consciousness.

her mouth he had seen nothing to equal on the face of the earth. To a young man with the least fire in him that little upward lift in the middle of her red top lip was distracting, infatuating, maddening. He had never before seen a woman's lips and teeth which forced upon his mind with such persistent iteration the old Elizabethan simile of roses filled with snow.

He admired her so much that he used to light the candle three times a night to look at her.

You know what that feeling is, continued Boldwood, deliberately. A thing strong as death. No dismissal by a hasty letter affects that.

Boldwood had not been outside his garden since his meeting with Bathsheba in the road to Yalbury. Silent and alone, he had remained in moody meditation on woman's ways, deeming as essentials of the whole sex the accidents of the single one of their number he had ever closely beheld.

Ahora, mi amor- murmuró-, eres mío y sólo mío porque ella al fin se ha olvidado de ti, a pesar de que murieras por ella. Pero cada vez que yo me levante pensaré en ti y cada vez que me vaya a dormir volveré a pensar en ti.

Gabriel, para quien el rostro de Bathseba era como la gloria incierta de un día de abril, se mostraba atento al menor de sus cambios.

She wanted to go inside. She wanted to go in, wanting it as we want to jump from balconies, as the glint of the rails tempts us when we hear the approaching train.

It was as though committing murders had purged him of lesser rudeness. Or perhaps, Starling thought, it excited him to see her marked in this particular way. She couldn't tell. The sparks in his eyes flew into his darkness like fireflies down a cave.

Dr. Doemling, does he want to fuck her or kill her, or eat her, or what?' Mason asked, exhausting the possibilities he could see. 'Probably all three,' Dr. Doemling said.

On a related subject, Signore Pazzi, I must confess to you: I'm giving serious thought to eating your wife.

Mrs. Leeds was lovely, wasn't she? You turned on the light after you cut his throat so Mrs. Leeds could watch him flop, didn't you? It was maddening to have to wear gloves when you touched her, wasn't it?

She yawns for men and not with her mouth. She weeps for men and not with her eyes. She drinks men down, she is a cave for me.

She yawns for men and not with her mouth. She weeps for men and not with her eyes. She drinks men down, she is a cave for men.

He worked, not like a man who works that he may live; but as one who is bent on doing nothing but work; having no regard for himself as a human being but only as a creator; moving about grey and unobtrusive among his fellows like an actor without his make-up, who counts for nothing as soon as he stops representing something else.

Entangled and besotted as he was, he no longer wished for anything else than to pursue the beloved object that inflamed him, to dream about him when he was absent and to speak amorous phrases, after the manner of lovers, to his mere shadow.

Zo wist en wilde de verwarde niets anders meer dan de aanstichter van het vuur dat in hem brandde zonder ophouden te achtervolgen, over hem te dromen wanneer hij er niet was en naar de wijze van de verliefden louter tegen zijn schaduwbeeld tedere woorden te fluisteren. Eenzaamheid, de vreemde omgeving en het geluk van een late en diepe roes moedigden hem aan en haalden hem ertoe over om van zichzelf ook het meest bevreemdende zonder schaamte of blozen te accepteren, (...)

Burada hani öyle görülmedik bir güçlük de bulunmuyordu, aksine Aschenbach'?n elini kolunu baÄŸlayan ÅŸey, art?k hiçbir ÅŸeyle giderilemeyecek bir yetersizlik görünüÅŸündeki isteksizlikten doÄŸma kuruntulard?.

Sun and sea air could not burn his skin, it was the same creamy marble hue as at first—though he did look a little pale, either from the cold or in the bluish moonlight of the arc-lamps. The shapely brows were so delicately drawn, the eyes so deeply dark—lovelier he was than words could say, and as often the thought visited Aschenbach, and brought its own pang, that language could but extol, not reproduce, the beauties of the sense.

Sakykite, kas tai - meil? svetimai sužad?tinei, ir kod?l ta meil? gali tapti sunkiu ilgame?i? min?i? objektu? Jos padar? tai, kad man ? galv? ?m? smelktis vienas žodis, ir, kad ir kaip nor?dama, kad ir kaip drov?damasi, niekaip negal?jau juo atsikratyti. Tas žodis - parazitizmas...