Quotes About Obsession

take a writer away from his typewriter and all you have left is the sickness which started him typing in the beginning.

There's no way I can stop writing, it's a form of insanity.

Money is like sex," I said. "It seems much more important when you don't have any…

Find what you love and let it kill you. a

I am humanely destroyed, I am the horseplayer who became the racetrack.

I wanted the whole world or nothing.     6

After the fourth race, a $22.80 winner, he turned again and told Katherine, "I had that one, ten across." She turned away. "His face is yellow, Hank. Did you see his eyes? He's sick." "He's sick on the dream. We're all sick on the dream, that's why we're out here." "Hank, let's go.

My dear, find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, so if death is imminent, it is so much better to be killed by a lover.

writing. It is my drug. It is my woman, my wine, my god. My luck.

Find what you love and let it kill you

A los hombres siempre les persigue algo que nunca pueden evitar. Sin descanso, siempre.

Find something you love - and let it kill you

What I mean by big was that her ass was big and her tits were big and that she was big in all the right places. She seemed a bit crazy but I kept looking at her body and I didn't care.

e então fomos pra cama e valeu... a PRIMEIRA vez. ela tinha me dito que era ninfo mas eu não acreditara. depois do terceiro ou quarto round comecei a acreditar. percebi que estava com problemas. todo homem acredita que pode domar uma ninfo mas isso só tem como resultado a sepultura – a do homem.

Find what you love and let it kill you. - Charles Bukowski

but the worst part is (like jumping off the garage roof) Eugene wins again because he's not even thinking about me.

Nothing makes a man sound crazier than to describe what crazy people are trying to do to him.

I'm possessed, recursively.

picture her naked but with the clown makeup on, and instantly I realize a new fetish has been born. My synaptic train has a new stop: Clowntown.

Slave. Minion. Fiend. The others who have come before me have been called such things, but I prefer to think of myself as a disciple; a devout follower of my voluptuous mistress.

I love people who have such passion for complete nonsense.

Or perhaps it is just that desire lies at the heart of human existence. When we turn away from one desire, we must find another to cleave to with all our strength --or else we die.

Margie Flynn was in my head like a bad cold, blurring everything. It was a new kind of loneliness, a hurt I couldn't stop picking at.

The few surviving Armenians no longer ask to go home. They do not ask for restitution. They ask simply to have the memory of their obliteration acknowledged. It is a moral obsession, the lonely legacy passed onto the third and fourth generation who no longer speak Armenian but who carry within them the seeds of resentment that will not be quashed.