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All [tv] shows are like cigarettes. You watch two, you have a higher chance of watching three. They're all addictive.

Dan Harmon

Stichwörter: addiction television community tv cigarettes addictive cigaret

...most Substance-addicted people are also addicted to thinking, meaning they have a compulsive and unhealthy relationship with their own thinking.

David Foster Wallace

Stichwörter: thinking addiction drugs addict

As I sit today, I am a genuine, often pleasant person. I am able to imitate a human being for long spurts of time, do solid work for a reputable organization, and have, over the breadth of time, proven to be an attentive father and husband. So how to reconcile my past with my current circumstances? Drugs, it seems to me, do not conjure demons, they access them. Was I faking it then, or am I faking it now? Which, you might ask, of my two selves did I make up?

David Carr

Stichwörter: addiction drugs

This is the point where the knowing, irony-infused author laughs along with his readers about his time among the aphorisms, how he was once so gullible and needy that he drank deeply of such weak and fruity Kool-Aid. That's some other book. Slogans saved my life. All of them--the dumb ones, the preachy ones, the imperatives, the cliches, the injunctives, the gooey, Godly ones, the shameless, witless ones.

David Carr

Stichwörter: addiction slogans alcoholism aa

End-stage addiction is mostly about waiting for the police, or someone, to come and bury you in your shame.

David Carr

Stichwörter: addiction shame

The moment sex ceases to be a servant it becomes a tyrant.

G.K. Chesterton

Stichwörter: love romance sex addiction homosexuality

There is no such thing as 'just one last cigarette' – except the last cigarette that you've already had.

H.M. Forester

Stichwörter: addiction smoking

Smoking is suicide by instalments.

H.M. Forester

Stichwörter: addiction smoking

And finally
the glass that contains and spills this stuff continually
while the drinker hunches before it, while the bartender gathers
up empties, gives back the drinker's own face. Who knows what it looks like;
who cares whether or not it was young once, or ever lovely,
who gives a shit about some drunk rising to stagger toward
the bathroom, some man or woman or even lost
angel who recklessly threw it all over—heaven, the ether,
the celestial works—and said, Fuck it, I want to be human?

Kim Addonizio

Stichwörter: loss addiction