Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Quotes

Hurt people hurt people more skillfully. An expert heartbreaker knows the effect of each incision. The blade slips in barely noticed, the pain and the apology delivered at the same time.

They say the sea is actually black and that it merely reflects the blue sky above. So it was with me. I allowed you to admire yourself in my eyes. I provided a service. I listened and listened and listened. You stored yourself in me.

Romance has killed more people than Cancer. Ok…maybe not killed but dulled more lives. Removed more hope, sold more medication, caused more tears

They say you’re not punished for your sins, you’re punished by them.

You can’t hurt a man with a pinprick when he’s already got a spear in his chest.

Maybe there is a law after all. Of nature. Like gravity. An unwritten axiom that governs our emotional dealings. What you do comes back to you with twice the force, fuck it, three times the force. We are not punished for our sins we are punished by them.

The same thing happened to me, only worse. Worse because it happened to me.

I’m not looking for sympathy. I'm far more interested in symmetry.

That was the moment I knew I'd have to do this thing alone. This thing being life.

My logic went as follows: If someone hurts you then you automatically want revenge. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, you want revenge. I thought, if I hurt her enough she would want revenge. Therefore, I wouldn’t have to worry about never seeing her again. Because that is what I feared most. The fact that I was losing her.

Hurt people hurt people.

I’ll offer you the possibility that I’m wrong only if I’m fairly sure I’m right.

I heard someone say somewhere that it's possible to write the sickness out of yourself. And who knows, maybe someone will benefit.

She was very attentive. That was it. She knew how to handle a guy. She made you feel like it was okay to be a guy. To be yourself. This, it seems to me, is the most devastating weapon of all in a woman's arsenal. If you can encourage the man to be himself, to give you his character, his ways, then you know how to navigate him, and therefore, he will never be able to hide from you.

Why would anyone set out to break the heart of someone he loved? Why would anyone intentionally cause that kind of pain? Why did people kill each other? Because they enjoyed it.

I was entering a world of pain…not all of it mine.

Never let her know how much you love her or she'll kill you with it.

Eyes from which nothing but truth could possibly seep.

Love, hate, what’s the difference?

I see now that I was in pain and wanted others to feel it, too. This was my way of communicating.

In New York, everyone just looks hurt. It seems more honest. Maybe I just identified with them.

All I know is, I felt better when I saw someone else in pain.

I don't like to take risks. I'll offer you the possibility that I'm wrong only if I'm fairly sure I'm right.

What's a romance without anger, tears, and woe?

This, it seems to me, is the most devastating weapon of all in a woman’s arsenal. If you can encourage the man to be himself, to give you his character, his ways, then you know how to navigate him, and therefore, he will never be able to hide from you

I liked hurting girls. Mentally, not physically, I never hit a girl in my life. Well, once. But that was a mistake. I’ll tell you about it later. The thing is, I got off on it. I really enjoyed it. It’s like when you hear serial killers say they feel no regret, no remorse for all the people they killed. I was like that. Loved it. I didn’t care how long it took either, because I was in no hurry. I’d wait until they were totally in love with me. Till the big saucer eyes were looking at me. I loved the shock on their faces. Then the glaze as they tried to hide how much I was hurting them. And it was legal. I think I killed a few of them. Their souls, I mean. It was their souls I was after.

The very fact that they were naturally caring and loving would be the milestone that weighed them down. The formula is perfect. The nurse becomes willing to sacrifice herself in the patient. But the patient isn’t suffering from an external illness, he’s suffering from self-inflicted wounds. The nurse wants to prevent him from this pain. The patient wants her to feel the pain, too.

Romance has killed more people than cancer.

You might as well argue with the mirror as argue with each other. After all aren’t we all really the same person?

I'm genius and I'm tired of pretending less clever than I actually am just so you can catch up. -the diary of an oxygen thief

Hurt people hurt people more skillfully. An expert heartbreaker knows the effect of each incision.

Beautiful to the eye, comely to the touch, mesmerising in abundance.

I was in pain and wanted others to feel it, too.

The very fact that they were caring and loving would be the millstone that weighed them down

I'd meet the women the first night and get the obligatory phone number and then after another couple of days, making them sweat a little, I'd call and be all nervous. They loved that. I'd ask them out and pretend I hardly ever did "this kind of thing', I hadn't been out a lot in London because I didn't really know the scene.

Women love money so much only because we men make it hard for them to get at it. They have to massage us and our egos to get it. Otherwise they wouldn’t even bother with us. Except maybe for the occasional fuck.

Find out his hobbies before dumping him. He may be useful as a friend. Get good at chess; there is nothing more humiliating for a man than to be beaten intellectually by a beautiful woman. You'll be able to cause him physical pain. If he doesn't let you know how he's feeling, call him late. Wake him up. It's hard for him to hide his feelings when he's in love with you and you're speaking softly to him in bed, even if it is only on the phone.

They say you're not punished for your sins, you're punished by them.

The pain involved in a premeditated broken heart would easily compare with a case of assault, and yet no court of law would recognize it as a crime.

I see now that I was in pain and wanted others to feel it too. This was my way of communicating.

A kind of drawn-out, slowly unfolding panic. The exact opposite of excitement

To the starved eyes of one such as I, there seemed to be an excess of muchness

If I saw someone across the street who did the things to me that I routinely do to me I’d run in the opposite direction. But I can’t, can I? I’m married to me.

What you do comes back to you with twice the force--fuck it, three times the force. We are not punished for our sins, we are punished by them.

Why, though? I knew it didn’t make sense. I did love her in my own way. Very much. She was beautiful and fun and caring, but I was bored, so bored. I had to think of other girls to get a hard-on. I didn’t want to start the long arduous road to her orgasm, let alone mine. Afraid to touch her in case it was mistaken for an application for sex. So in order to feel something through the numbness, I decided to perpetrate on my soul and hers the equivalent of quenching cigarettes on my paralyzed limbs. My hope was that if I registered pain, it would be welcomed as a sign of life.

The nurse becomes willing to sacrifice herself for the patient. But the patient isn’t suffering from an external illness, he’s suffering from self-inflicted wounds. The nurse wants to prevent him from this pain. The patient wants her to feel the pain too. How else will she understand him? So she joins him. Now there are two patients

Why would anyone set out to break the heart of someone he loved? Why would anyone intentionally cause that kind of pain? Why did people kill each other? Because they enjoyed it. Was it really that simple? To achieve a soul-shattering, it is better that the perpetrator has been through the same experience. Hurt people hurt people more skillfully. An expert heartbreaker knows the effect of each incision. The blade slips in barely noticed, the pain and the apology delivered at the same time

The realizations would sear through him as if his blood had turned poisonous. Like ground glass flowing through him

I liked hurting girls. Mentally, not physically, I never hit a girl in my life. Well, once.

I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm far more interested in symmetry.

As the man with the lisp said on hearing about the fate of the Titanic, “Unthinkable.

Women love money so much only because we men make it hard for them to get at it.

Birth to grave we know it’ll be us some day. Our tragedy is that we forget it may be someone else first.

romance has killed more people than cancer. okay...maybe not killed but dulled more lives.

I'd tell myself, "you've got a great job, a great house. The people are really nice. The girls are gorgeous," etc. I should have loved it. You'd have thought a thirty-four-year-old unmarried man heading out there and finding himself surrounded by such conditions would be thanking his lucky stars. But I was cursing myself for having created these circumstances. If it had been happening to someone else, I would have approved and even wished him well, but because it was happening to me I couldn't bear it, it was as if I had been miscast in my own life.

If it had been happening to someone else, I would have approved and even wished him well, but because it was happening to me I couldn't bear it, it was as if I had been miscast in my own life. If I saw someone across the street who did the things to me that I routinely do to me, I'd run in the opposite direction. But I can't, can I? I'm married to me.

Me gustaba hacer daño a chicas. Mental, no físicamente. No he golpeado a una chica en mi vida. Bueno, una vez. Pero fue un error. Ya os lo contaré luego. El caso es que me molaba. Lo disfrutaba de verdad. Es como cuando oyes que los asesinos en serie dicen que no lo lamentan, no sienten remordimientos por todas las personas que asesinaron. Yo era así. Me encantaba. Además, no me importaba cuánto tiempo me llevase, porque no tenía prisa. Esperaba a que estuvieran enamoradas hasta las trancas de mí. A que me miraran con ojos grandes como platos. Me encantaba ver su cara de conmoción. Luego los ojos vidriosos cuando intentaban ocultar cuánto daño les estaba haciendo. Y era legal. Creo que acabé con varias. Me refiero a sus almas. Eran sus almas lo que me interesaba.

Dicen que en realidad el mar es negro y que simplemente se refleja en él el cielo azul. Lo mismo ocurría conmigo. Os permitía reflejaros en mis ojos. Ofrecía un servicio. Escuchaba y escuchaba sin parar. Os depositabais en mí.

El dolor involucrado en romperle el corazón premeditadamente podría muy bien compararse con una agresión y, sin embargo, ningún tribunal lo reconocería como delito.

Lo nuestro se había terminado, pero no podía soportar el hecho de seguir necesitándola.

¿Por qué se mataba la gente ente sí? Porque disfrutaban. ¿De verdad era tan sencillo? Para lograr partirle el alma a alguien como es debido, lo mejor es que quien lo hace haya pasado por la misma experiencia. La gente herida es más hábil para herir a la gente. Un rompecorazones experto conoce el efecto de cada incisión. El filo entra casi sin que se dé cuenta, el dolor y la disculpa infligidos al mismo tiempo.

Casi era capaz de ver a través de sus ojos. No podía ocultarse. No de mí.

El amor ha matado a más gente que el cáncer. Bueno, igual no ha matado a tantos, pero ha empañado más vidas; acabado con más esperanzas, vendido más medicamentos, provocado más lágrimas.

I liked hurting girls. Mentally, not physically, I never hit a girl in my life.

And from under this comical mask came the three little words that meant so much... 'I don’t care.

There was just the two of us and the pain.

Why would anyone set out to break the heart of someone they loved?

I acknowledged that as a kid I had drawn a map that accurately reflected the world around me, and though it had been a very useful navigation tool at that time, thirty years later I was still using it and wondering why I was bumping into things that according to the map shouldn’t be there.

hurt people hurt people

I would have cried, but my tears would probably freeze and blind me. I didn't know what tears did at these temperatures.

It is my humble opinion that a lot of the civil rights protests—and indeed, a good portion of this fine country's problems, including the Civil War and the assassination of more than one president—can be attributed to the absence of air-conditioning.

Hurt people, hurt people

p 4. they say the sea is actually black & that it really reflects the blue sky above. so it was with me. i allowed you to admire yourself in my eyes. i provided a service. i listened & listened & listened. you stored yourself in me.

To achieve a soul-shattering, it is better if the perpetrator has been through the same experience. Hurt people hurt people more skillfully. An expert heartbreaker knows the effect of each incision. The blade slips in barely noticed, the pain and the apology delivered at the same time.

Never let her know how much you love her or she'll kill you with it. Sadly, though, there is still a little truth in that for me even today.

I see now that I was in pain and wanted others to feel it, too.

They say the sea is actually black and it merely reflects the sky above. So it was with me. I allowed you to admire yourself in my eyes. I provided a service. I listened and listened. You stored yourself in me.

A sitcom I had to sit through. But it was okay, because I knew I'd be writing her out of the series.

My toes were awiggle.