Posession Quotes

“We are not our own any more than what we possess is our own. We did not make ourselves, we cannot be supreme over ourselves. We are not our own masters. We are God's property. Is it not our happiness thus to view the matter? Is it any happiness or any comfort, to consider that we are our own? It may be thought so by the young and prosperous. These may think it a great thing to have everything, as they suppose, their own way–to depend on no one–to have to think of nothing out of sight, to be without the irksomeness of continual acknowledgment, continual prayer, continual reference of what they do to the will of another. But as time goes on, they, as all men, will find that independence was not made for man–that it is an unnatural state–will do for a while, but will not carry us on safely to the end …'" Mustapha Mond paused, put down the first book and, picking up the other, turned over the pages. "Take this, for example," he said, and in his deep voice once more began to read: "'A man grows old; he feels in himself that radical sense of weakness, of listlessness, of discomfort, which accompanies the advance of age; and, feeling thus, imagines himself merely sick, lulling his fears with the notion that this distressing condition is due to some particular cause, from which, as from an illness, he hopes to recover. Vain imaginings! That sickness is old age; and a horrible disease it is. They say that it is the fear of death and of what comes after death that makes men turn to religion as they advance in years. But my own experience has given me the conviction that, quite apart from any such terrors or imaginings, the religious sentiment tends to develop as we grow older; to develop because, as the passions grow calm, as the fancy and sensibilities are less excited and less excitable, our reason becomes less troubled in its working, less obscured by the images, desires and distractions, in which it used to be absorbed; whereupon God emerges as from behind a cloud; our soul feels, sees, turns towards the source of all light; turns naturally and inevitably; for now that all that gave to the world of sensations its life and charms has begun to leak away from us, now that phenomenal existence is no more bolstered up by impressions from within or from without, we feel the need to lean on something that abides, something that will never play us false–a reality, an absolute and everlasting truth. Yes, we inevitably turn to God; for this religious sentiment is of its nature so pure, so delightful to the soul that experiences it, that it makes up to us for all our other losses.”
― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

“This is mine, I thought as he fucked me. This body, this act, this man, all mine.”
― Leah Raeder, Unteachable

“The itch for naming things is almost as bad as the itch for possessing things. Let them and leave them alone--they'll survive for a few more thousand years, more or less, without any glorification from us.”
― Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire

“It was the custom, rigidly adhered to," Luke said, turning the brandy in his glass, "for the public executioner, before a quartering, to outline his knife strokes in chalk upon the belly of his victim--for fear of a slip, you understand."

I would like to hit her with a stick, Eleanor thought, looking down on Theodora's head beside her chair; I would like to batter her with rocks.

"An exquisite refinement, exquisite. Because of course the chalk strokes would have been almost unbearable, excruciating, if the victim were ticklish."

I hate her, Eleanor thought, she sickens me; she is all washed and clean and wearing my red sweater.

"When the death was hanging by chains, however, the executioner..."

"Nell?" Theodora looked up at her and smiled. "I really am sorry, you know," she said.

I would like to watch her dying, Eleanor thought, and smiled back and said, "Don't be silly.”
― Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

“Whatever the power,” Roc says coming up behind me. “Can it be removed without hurting the Captain?”
Mareth frowns, but there is nothing in her demeanor that says she’s sympathetic. “I’m afraid not.”
“Then you’re not getting it back.” Roc pushes forward”
― Nikki St. Crowe, Devourer of Men

“Listen,” whispers Dario. “How still it is.” They stand under a darkened archway, the only sound a whispered squeak where docked gondolas rub against each other. Negative ions from the lapping water release serotonin, and the brains of these two flood with the nourishment of each other’s breath, each other’s chi.”
― Kristen Caven, The Vesuvian Affair

“Het enige wat wij als mens daadwerkelijk bezitten is dat waarin wij wonen: ons lichaam. (...) Alles wat een man zich toe-eigent is slechts een idee. Wij kopen ons bezit met geld, en de wet verdedigt met geweld ons recht op dat bezit. Maar het blijft slechts een afspraak. Ons lichaam echter kunnen wij niet kopen, kan een ander niet van ons wegnemen en zodoende is het lichaam ons enige ware bezit.”
― Tom Hofland, Lyssa

“Lies My Captain Told Me.’” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, trailing it with wetness. He laughs. “That’s the title of my future memoir.”
I snort and reach for my drink. Anything to distract me, to hide the tremor in my hands.
My captain. MY captain?”
― Nikki St. Crowe

“You know,” Roc says as he comes forward with slow, lazy steps, “I made myself a promise when you barged into our room at the inn, when you hit my Captain.”
“Oh yeah?” Theo takes a step back as if the way to keep himself safe is to keep a distance between himself and Roc.
“I promised myself that at the first opportunity, I’d fucking kill you.”
― Nikki St. Crowe, Devourer of Men

“Her eyes opened and then rolled into the back of her head, showing off those horrible bright whites with their convoluted red maps. She laughed, groaned, and said in [a] small, tight whisper, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god...[I can still hear them]”
― Paul Tremblay, A Head Full of Ghosts