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Quote by Ellis De Keyzer

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Scopophilia

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Ellis De Keyzer

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“Jacks had always considered himself more of a sadist than a masochist. He enjoyed inflicting pain, not receiving it. And yet he couldn't bring himself to leave the shadows of Evangeline's bedroom. It wasn't an obsession. One visit wasn't an obsession. Jacks just needed to make sure she was still alive. That she wasn't bleeding. In danger. Unhappy. Cold. She was safe in her bed. She'd be even safer when he left her. But he was too selfish to leave just yet. He leaned against the bedpost and watched as she slept. He'd never understood why someone would watch another person sleep... until her.”

ObsessionStephanie GarberEvangeline FoxJacksEvangelinePrince Of HeartsA Curse For True LoveJacks Of The HollowSadistWatching Someone Sleep
Book:A Curse for True Love
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“From that first day in his church, Jacks had wanted to watch her. He wanted to know what her voice sounded like, what her skin felt like. He'd followed her, listened to her prayer- hated her prayer. It had been one of the most god-awful prayers he'd ever heard. And yet even then he hadn't been able to walk away. He wanted a piece of her. To keep her. To use her for later. At least that's what he'd told himself. She was only a key. A human. She wasn't an obsession. She wasn't his.”

LoveObsessionStephanie GarberEvangeline FoxJacksEvangelineWantingPrince Of HeartsA Curse For True LoveJacks Of The Hollow
Book:A Curse for True Love
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“Algunas veces me decía a mí misma que tal vez se pasaba un día entero sin pensar ni un segundo en mí. Lo veía levantarse, tomarse el café, hablar, reír, como si yo no existiera. Ese desfase respecto a mi propia obsesión me llenaba de asombro. ¿Cómo era posible? Pero él mismo se habría quedado de una pieza al saber que yo no me lo quitaba de la cabeza en todo el día. No había motivo alguno para encontrar mi actitud más justa que la suya. En cierto sentido, yo tenía más suerte que él. Cuando él telefoneaba para que nos viéramos, su tan esperada llamada no cambiaba nada, yo seguía con la misma dolorosa tensión de antes. Me hallaba en un estado en el que ni siquiera la realidad de su voz conseguía hacerme feliz. Todo era una carencia sin fin, salvo el momento en que estábamos juntos haciendo el amor. Y, aun así, me obsesionaba el momento que vendría a continuación, cuando se hubiera marchado. Vivía el placer como un dolor futuro.”

LoveObsessionNeedinessLovesickLovecrazy
Author:Annie Ernaux
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“When he was very young, Auberon had begun a collection of postmarks. On a trip with Doc to the post office in Meadowbrook, he had begun idly examining the wastebaskets, having nothing else to do, and had immediately come up with two treasures: envelopes from places that seemed fantastically distant to him, and looking remarkably crisp for having come so far. It soon developed into a small passion, like Lily's for bird's nests. He insisted on accompanying whoever was traveling near a post office; he conned his friends' mail; he gloated over distant cities, far states whose names began with I, and, rarest of all, names from across the sea. Then one day Joy Flowers, whose granddaughter had lived abroad for a year, gave him a fat brown bag full of envelopes sent her from every part of the world. He could hardly find on the map a place which had not stamped its name on one of these pieces of blue flimsy. Some of them came from places so distant they weren't even in the alphabet he knew. And at a stroke his collection was complete, and his pleasure in it over. No discovery he could make in Meadowbrook's post office could add to it. He never looked at it again.”

ObsessionCollecting
Book:Little, Big
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“My true-love hath my heart and I have his, By just exchange one for the other given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss; There never was a bargain better driven. His heart in me keeps me and him in one; My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides: He loves my heart, for once it was his own; I cherish his because in me it bides. His heart his wound received from my sight; My heart was wounded with his wounded heart; For as from me on him his hurt did light, So still, methought, in me his hurt did smart: Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss, My true-love hath my heart and I have his.”

LoveHeartPoetry
Book:The Poems of Sir Philip Sidney
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“Will my little cat starve in Paris?' he asked. 'I don't know,' said Père. 'I don't know who will take us in or where we shall go. Cats are never happy in strange places. You ought to have left her behind. She would have fed herself. Someone would take care of her.' 'No,' whispered Julius, 'no - never, never anyone but me. What is mine cannot belong to another person. Père, do you understand? Tell me you understand.”

ObsessionToxic LoveFear Of Change
Book:Julius
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