Quotes About Obsession

These landscapes of water and reflections have become an obsession. It's quite beyond my powers at my age, and yet I want to succeed in expressing what I feel.

It always interests me how obsessed people are about age.

I was fascinated by movies from age 12.

He loved to handle cash, and he drove himself and all that belonged to him in the direction of money as if it were as far off as heaven and as if he were running out of time;

From everything that I'd read, End Timers were waiting for the collapse of civilization the way fans of the Twilight series awaited the trailer for Breaking Dawn.

He could never be happy; as an obsessive perfectionist, perfection would always stay tantalizingly out of reach

I wouldn't say that I'm particularly bothered or obsessed with detail.

she is admired from afar. These admirers court her in secret, in the safety of their dreams.

I should have asked why any room in the house was better than home to me when she entered it, and barren as a desert when she went out again—why I always noticed and remembered the little changes in her dress that I had noticed and remembered in no other woman's before—why I saw her, heard her, and touched her (when we shook hands at night and morning) as I had never seen, heard, and touched any other woman in my life?

I should never, perhaps, have heard even the name of the woman who has lived in all my thoughts, who has possessed herself of all my energies, who has become the one guiding influence that now directs the purpose of my life.

Insanity is my dominant characteristic. - Christina McCall

but you're giving a very good impression of a lovelorn fool pining for his girl.

Meeting Hettie again made him achingly conscious once more of the irrefutable nature of his obsession with her. Obsession - or love? Or was it something more unhealthy - a kind of craving, an addiction?

Polluting his brain with a hunger so base that it would have made him vomit had he had any possession of his own body. The hunger was more than a desire for food, for sex or for power. The hunger was a vacuum, an endless vortex that consumed every thought, every impulse of who and what he was. He tried to scream but it wouldn't let him.

yes I hate him I would die for him I've already died for him I die for him over and over again

And when a man that old takes up money-hunting, it's like when he takes up gambling or whisky or women. He aint going to have time to quit.

curiosity is another of the mistresses whose slaves decline no sacrifice.

I was a little crazy. You know how it is, how you want to rush into something you know is going to happen, no matter what it is. I guess lovers and suicides both know that feeling.

hating is like drink or drugs and she had used it so long that she did not dare risk cutting off the supply, destroying the source, the very poppy's root and seed?

each look burdened with youth's immemorial obsession not with time's dragging weight which the old live with but with its fluidity: the bright heels of all the lost moments of fifteen and sixteen.

When you surf, as I then understood it, you live and breathe waves. You always know what the surf is doing. You cut school, lose jobs, lose girlfriends, if it's good.

Surfers have a perfection fetish. The perfect wave, etcetera. There is no such thing. Waves are not stationary objects in nature like roses or diamonds. They're quick, violent events at the end of a long chain of storm action and ocean reactions.

Problem what happened he always woke up the same person went to bed the night before only way he knew it these God damned words going through his head, go to bed knew he'd wake up the same God damned person finally couldn't take it anymore, same God damned words waiting for him only thing to do get rid of the God damned container for the thing contained, God damned words come around next morning God damned container smashed on the sidewalk no place for them to . . .

She said she loved him and he had no cause to doubt it. They were like a drug in each other's veins. A crazy bad-news drug, their hands trembled with the hypo, the needle prodded for an un-collapsed vein. The drug they used was rare and dangerous with unknown and catastrophic side effects – you couldn't buy it, it had to be stolen under cover of darkness when other folks were asleep or their attention had wandered.