Quotes About Obsession

I collect art. That's my weakness. I keep saying, "We've got to put a moratorium on it, we don't have room," but I keep buying it.

Junk the self-esteem emphasis and teach self-control and good behavior. Self-esteem has limited benefit, whereas self-control is linked to success in life. Leave behind the obsession with specialness and uniqueness. Do not automatically side with your child.

It is no longer a passion hidden in my heart: it is Venus herself fastened to her prey.

The flames of Aphrodite maddened me; I loathed myself, and yearned outrageously like a starved wolf to fall upon the sheep.

I watched her die many times. In my way, not in hers. In sunlight, in shadow, by moonlight, by candlelight. In the long afternoons when the house was empty. Only the sun was there to keep us company. We shut him out. And why not? Very soon she was as eager for what's called loving as I was - more lost and drowned afterwards.

He whirled round and round in his rapid love; it pricked him on the breastbone like a needle. He wanted to be shut up in a small space to think about it. He wanted to grab it and eat it like an apple so that nobody else could have it.

I fell in love with Caligula and now I'm married to Calvin.

Hayat?ma girmi? kad?nlar." Bu m?sralar hep akl?n?n bir kö?esindeydi. Sanki av pe?inde ko?ma nedenini bile özetliyorlard?. Güzel bir çehreyi bir trende, kalabal?kta, bir sokakta gizlice izlemeye dayanan özel ve ebedi bir dramd?, ama ayn? zamanda da kad?nlar? ona do?ru çeken dayan?lmaz bir co?kuydu. Bu ilk kar??la?madaki hayranl?kt?. Ve gerçek bir k?v?lc?m. Sayfa:138

În clipa când È›i se impune s? nu te gândeÈ™ti la un lucru, te vei gândi doar la el, obsesiv. InterdicÈ›ia devine obligaÈ›ie.

Book collecting is an obsession, an occupation, a disease, an addiction, a fascination, an absurdity, a fate. It is not a hobby. Those who do it must do it.

Book collecting is an obsession, an occupation, a disease, an addiction, a fascination, an absurdity, a fate. It is not a hobby. Those who do it must do it. Those who do not do it, think of it as a cousin of stamp collecting, a sister of the trophy cabinet, bastard of a sound bank account and a weak mind.

Whoever it is you fall in love with for the first time, not just love but be in love with, is the one who will always make you angry, the one you can't be logical about.

Her hatred is a living succubus, vast enough and quick enough and wicked enough to crest up from her heart and take wing, to expand across the hundreds of miles between them, to engulf the whole city of Acapulco, to veil the room in which he's standing, to overshadow him and overcome him, to slip into his mouth and choke him from the inside out. She hates him so much she can murder him from sixteen hundred miles away, just by wishing for it.

Stowne loves you to the point of obsession, just like Dane. They don't want anything to harm you and are willing to lie, even to you, to keep you what they consider safe. Your being here is tearing Stowne up inside, and Dane dreads the idea of of you leaving.

My heart is yours, Cesare. And we are both damned for it.

Adoration brings out the worst in some men.

Even though it inspires some of the world's greatest literature, music, and art, obsessive love is one of the most potent and compelling of tortures and one of the most difficult to overcome -- especially because it feels beyond conscious control. Tormented lovers try the patience even of those who truly love them, because they sufferers do not desire help extricating themselves though they claim to be seeking it; this is an illness from which no one wants to be cured.

Obsessive love is built on a tissue of illusions: that by having sex with someone you can possess that person's soul; that you can transmute past defeats into present triumphs without understanding or mourning; that you make the unloving love you by constancy, uncomplaining availability, and molding yourself into what you thing that person wants.

He talked about her in a way that only the obsessed do. It was always a pressured monologue, and it was always the same. He had to relate every detail, interpreting and seeking meaning in her every utterance or action, like a fundamentalist minutely analyzing a biblical text.

She had her addictions and one of them was reading.

I love anything that haunts me and never leaves

He felt that anything he wanted ought to be his no matter what.

I think about my work every minute of the day.

Murdoch's gun was the only thing in my life, the only thing worth living for. It gets like that sometimes, with instruments of death.