The other day I woke up to find my girlfriend already gone from the house, and a sticky note on the fridge that said, "I love you." "Oh my God," I thought. "Somebody's obsessed with me, and they kidnapped my girlfriend just to get closer to me.
Any earthly production would have been cancelled at the slightest suggestion of rain, but this was William’s Stage—it was William’s call—and if the children danced and the congregation remained transfixed, the show would go on.
Pretty, was she?""Pretty?" he echoed. "Mister, when I see my first lady angel, if God ever sees fit to show me one, it'll be her wings and not her face that'll make my mouth fall open. I've already seen the prettiest face that ever could be.
Time didn’t heal my heal wounds but it lent me perspective. My vision was no longer clouded and I saw what I’d become. I’d let inspiration become obsession. Tunnel vision had hindered all progress. I was so fixated on you, I got stuck.
I feel something familiar about this place. This house…” I dragged out a hand and gestured towards it with my thumb. “I dream about it. I’ve been dreaming about it for years. Being in it.” I had her attention. “With you.
One hasn't become a writer until one has distilled writing intoa habit, and that habit has been forced into an obsession.Writing has to be an obsession. It has to be something as organic,physiological and psychological as speaking or sleeping or eating.
Follow the ideal doing,grind the beans just before brewing.Use spring water,for softened water,makes a horror.A parley perfect,between the coffee,and the milk,with some,brown sugar thick.” (Poem: An apology of a coffee lunatic, Book: Ginger and Honey)
The theory of attachment is same for humans and computers. Unknown sender's attachment is blocked..Known sender's attachment is accepted or ignored..Heavy attachments are annoying..Too heavy attachments do not reach..No attachment is the best option!
A colleague once described political theorists as people who were obsessed with two dozen books; after half a century of grappling with Mill's essay On Liberty, or Hobbes's Leviathan, I have sometimes thought two dozen might be a little on the high side.
... 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–
I’d once again see that bob of blonde hair back on my pillow, that pink hot smile beaming toward me as I heroically win her heart in some kind of Count of Monte Cristo or Great Gatsby-esque gesture… you know minus the long imprisonment or swimming pool death!
That’s the thing about success and happiness. Every time I fall in love I become absolutely, pathologically obsessed. The moment that you have what you want, and you’re not totally ready for it, you become obsessed with the idea that you don’t deserve it.
If someone even mentions his name it is like a little present to me - and I long to mention it myself. I start subjects leading up to it, and then I feel myself going red. I keep swearing to myself not to speak to him again - and then an opportunity occurs and I jump at it!
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 am so sorry I do not have enough money to support your expensive obsessions and fancy lifestyle choice. I just love you and I wish I could love you the way you want me to, I am not bitter so smile and go on then be free and wild with the deeper pockets you'll meet along your way.
