Best 453 quotes in «obsession quotes» category

I had possessed her - and she never knew it.

I just think that 'dating' is an engagement and not 'fun'." Emily says.

I invented you the way I like but I have fallen for you the way you are.

I knew well therefore what would be my father’s feelings, but I could not tear my thoughts from my employment, loathsome in itself, but which had taken an irresistible hold of my imagination. I wished, as it were, to procrastinate all that related to my feelings of affection until the great object, which swallowed up every habit of my nature, should be completed.

I like the relaxed way in which the Japanese approach religion. I think of myself as basically a moral person, but I'm definitely not religious, and I'm very tired of the preachiness and obsession with other people's behavior characteristic of many religious people in the United States. As far as I could tell, there's nothing preachy about Buddhism. I was in a lot of temples, and I still don't know what Buddhists believe, except that at one point Kunio said 'If you do bad things, you will be reborn as an ox.' This makes as much sense to me as anything I ever heard from, for example, the Reverend Pat Robertson.

I long for the day I no longer long for him.

I may not know quite what you are, but I know what you are not… You are not the kind who leaves my mind and is easily forgot.

In this connection I must mention too a not altogether rational idea which I had nourished more or less vaguely for a long time: the notion that before I could achieve greatness as a writer I would have to pass through some ordeal. For this ordeal I had waited in vain. Even total war (I was never in uniform) failed to ruffle my life. I seemed doomed to quietness.

I'm not saying you are jealous or insecure. I'm just saying that you obsessing over another person's accomplishments makes you look that way.

I never noticed anything but you But you but you So that I couldn't sleep

In his fight against the powers of the surrounding world his first weapon was magic, the first forerunner of our modern technology. We suppose that this confidence in magic is derived from the over-estimation of the individual’s own intellectual operations, from the belief in the ‘omnipotence of thoughts’, which, incidentally, we come across again in our obsessional neurotics.

I may be 65 tomorrow, but i have no plans to 'let go. My psychiatrist asked me the same thing. He said he wanted to give me a pill so I wouldn’t obsess so much over momentary things. I told him I don’t want a pill. I want an answer.

I needed them, sure, and we can all argue about the moment when the balance tipped and I needed them so much that I would hurt. But you can't pretend they didn't need me too, each in his or her way. They wouldn't necessarily have admitted it - except Reza - but you can't tell me they didn't love me. The heart knows. The body knows. When I was with Sirena, or Reza, or Skandar, the air moved differently between us; time passed differently; words or gestures meant more than themselves. If you've never had this experience-but who has not been visited by love, laughing?-then you can't understand. And if you have, you don't need me to say another word.

Ingo was a fever, and so far she hadn't found the antidote.

In recent months, the emotional aspect has become as necessary to me as the physical. It amuses me, this strange quirk of mine. I want my little captive to love me, to care about me. I want to be more than just the monster of her nightmares.

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)

I often stood and stared into those tunnels and thought about what happened there; how I was separated from it only by time." - The Procession

I possess so much, but my love for her absorbs it all. I possess so much, but without her I have nothing.

I realized that I was okay with myself. I was quirky and withdrawn and loud, but I liked that. I smiled at strangers without thinking they were going to attack me and drag me into their cars. I went to doctors’ offices and touched magazines that had been touched by sick people.

I remember you only rarely And your fate I do not view But the mark won't be stripped from my soul Of the meaningless meeting with you. Your red house I avoid on purpose, Your red house murky river beside, But I know, that I am disturbing Gravely your heart-pierced respite. Would it weren't you that, on to my lips pressing, Prayed of love, and for love did wish, Would it weren't you that with golden verses Immortalized my anguish. Over future I do secret magic If the evening is truly blue, And I divine a second meeting, Unavoidable meeting with you.

I suppose you'd have to say that my interest in the subject fell somewhere between the Land of Hobbies and the Kingdom of Obsession.

I see you running all the time, running, always running. Stop running and look around, you might just find what you looking for. Don’t drown yourself trying to learn how to swim. Know when enough is enough. Don’t quit but take a break every now and then. It’s not necessary for you to have all the answers right now. It’s not necessary for you to know everything. All you are doing is developing an obsession, an addiction in trying to perfect yourself. You are hurting yourself with everything you are trying to know. Some times it’s best just to do nothing and to know nothing.

It happened to some people, that obsession with throwing their clothes off at an age when it would be best to keep them on.

I think of you so incessantly, so insistently. The thought of you is always there. It lies hidden, a latency, in the most unlikely things and places, ready at the command of some chance association to jump out at me from its ambush.

It is amazing to think of how little it takes to make a girl, of a certain age and artistic temperament, believe she is in love.

It is easy to identify a shallow person by the attention he gives to what will do him absolutely no good.

It may be the character of his mind, to be always in singular need of occupation. That may be, in part, natural to it; in part, the result of affliction. The less it was occupied with healthy things, the more it would be in danger of turning in the unhealthy direction. He may have observed himself, and made the discovery.

It is in the nature of man to want what he does not have. This modern concern for happiness seems a real testimony of its absence.

It is only by seeing beauty in everything that we can see it in any one single thing, day after day. Don't run into the arms of obsession, for that quickly fades. Long lasting love comes from an open, loving heart.

It is in his obsessions that mankind most closely resembles his machines.

It looks like you're mocking me as if I am a girl who still believes in Santa Claus." Emily says.

I touched you and my life stopped

It's all about Perfection or the tolerance of Imperfection

It's almost relaxing to know I'll die fairly soon, as it's a comfort not to obsess about my next orgasm.

It's hard to explain how an infatuation actually starts. It's a state so all-encompassing that it's almost impossible to remember how it felt to live inside your own head before it began. Everything that precedes it becomes a pathway that was always leading there. Time before is valuable only as a resource with which to create a persona, to bind the object of the infatuation closer. I had given my (partially fabricated) past life to Mizuko to make a story that in the end never got told. Or not by her. It is also hard to explain the intensity of the infatuation itself. There is rarely an explanation that seems reasonable to anyone but you. Unless you're part of a cult or viral phenomenon, so that when you weep outside the object of your infatuation's hotel room, you do so in the company of millions.

It seems to me that evil is a kind of ultimate greed, a greed that is so all-encompassing that it can't ever see anything lovely, rare, or precious without wanting to possess it. A greed so total that if it can't possess these things, it will destroy them rather than chance that someone else might have them. And a greed so intense that even having these things never causes it to lessen one iota -- the lovely, the rare and the precious never affect it except to make it want them.

It's not worth staying up all night just to paint masterpieces.

It's nothing serious," he said. "It's just an obsession.

It's people with obsessions who do the real harm in the world.

It takes a lot of effort for an obsessive mind to accept the fact that everything is in order except itself.

It started with feelings of jealousy and like a mental virus it spread.

... it’s you. You with that bloody obsession, that love of other that runs like a seam of gold through you. That life unlike any other. That wild, endless curiosity. Obsession. Even that maddening fucking code of honor. All of it. You, Benedict. You–

It was as if I were an oyster and somebody forced a grain of sand into my shell -- a grain of sand that I didn't know was there and didn't particularly welcome. Then a pearl started forming around the grain and it irritated me, made me angry, tortured me sometimes. But the oyster can't help becoming obsessed with the pearl.

It was an obsession, it was a compulsion. "The way to banish temptation is to give into it," the saying went. Maybe if she experienced a gangbang, it wouldn't be such a big deal, and would no longer be the focus of her sexual imagination.

It was as if I had only just been able to see colours and shapes for the first time. I was so enthralled with the buttons on Lestat's black coat that I looked at nothing else for a long time.

It was funny how obsessed people believed others equally obsessed, or even interested.

It was gentler here, softer, its seethe the quietest of whispers, as if, in deference to a drawing room, it had quite deliberately put on its 'manners'; it kept itself out of sight, obliterated itself, but distinctly with an air of saying, 'Ah, but just wait! Wait till we are alone together! Then I will begin to tell you something new! Something white! something cold! something sleepy! something of cease, and peace, and the long bright curve of space! Tell them to go away. Banish them. Refuse to speak. Leave them, go upstairs to your room, turn out the light and get into bed - I will go with you, I will be waiting for you, I will tell you a better story than Little Kay of the Skates, or The Snow Ghost - I will surround your bed, I will close the windows, pile a deep drift against the door, so that none will ever again be able to enter. Speak to them!...' It seemed as if the little hissing voice came from a slow white spiral of falling flakes in the corner by the front window - but he could not be sure. ("Silent Snow, Secret Snow")

I've thought about nothing else but you.

I've always loved Halloween: the one day of the year when you can blatantly dress as your number-one obsession and people will smile instead of snicker.

I've written of you so often I think I've made you immortal.