Quotes About Concern

The dream does never trouble itself about things which are not deserving of our concern during the day, and trivialities which do not trouble us during the day have no power to pursue us whilst asleep.

Just as a cautious businessman avoids tying up all his capital in one concern, so, perhaps, worldly wisdom will advise us not to look for the whole of our satisfaction from a single aspiration.

There's a certain kind of person who, having read this far, is anxiously wondering: Does something bad happen to the dog?

Tragedies are all right for a while: you are concerned, you are curious, you feel good. And then it gets repetitive, it doesn't advance, it grows dreadfully boring: it is so very boring, even for me.

For it seemed certain, and I believe it still today, that we can never wrestle God too much if we do so out of pure concern for the truth. Christ loves that we prefer the truth to him, because before being the Christ, he is the Truth. If someone takes a detour from him to go towards the truth, they will not go a long way without falling into his arms.

My dear fellow, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more. - Holmes, to Watson.

The thing about lying to your parents is, you have to do it to protect them. It's for their own good.

And I can't sigh or roll my eyes or exclaim, "I'm so stressed!" because they, I now realize, are things you do when you're not really worried. When you're really worried, you go silent and pick at your fingernails and forget to put your lipstick on.

Samantha, before you go Ã¢â'¬Â¦Ã¢â'¬Â Iris takes hold of both my hands, her face filled with concern. "Sweetie Ã¢â'¬Â¦ I'm sure you're doing what's best for you. But just remember, you only get your youth once." She looks at my hand, smooth against hers. "You only get these precious years once." "I'll remember." I bite my lip. "I promise." "Good." She pats my hand. "Off you go.

don't like the sound of that," says Suze at last.

Someone who really respects himself and is concerned for his own soul is assured of the fact that a person living under his own supervision in the world at large lives in greater austerity and seclusion than a maiden in her lady's bower.

I think that there are these two very different sides to my relation to the Bible: one, my professional life; the other, a more private concern, interest and fascination with the Bible.

I can handle being married for my money; it's being married for my life insurance that gives me pause.

That which you worry about most in life is seldom bad, and that likely applies to dying.

This isn't like an auction, right? You guys aren't going to take it away?

enjoying life should be of much greater concern than understanding it.

Never, under any circumstances put a man in a position where he no longer cares.

The fact is, God is not too concerned whether we are happy or not. But he is very concerned over whether we are holy.

People say I love you all the time - when they say, 'take an umbrella, it's raining,' or 'hurry back,' or even 'watch out, you'll break your neck.' There are hundreds of ways of wording it - you just have to listen for it, my dear.

My biggest concern about the effects of the prosperity movement is that it diminishes Christ by making him less central and less satisfying than his gifts.

Jesus' primary concern—the very first petition of the prayer he teaches—is that more and more people, and more and more peoples, come to hallow God's name. This is the reason the universe exists. Missions exists because this hallowing does not.

It has never made any sense to argue that, unique among the people of the world, Arabs are more concerned on a day-to-day basis about the treatment of people they don't know than they are about how they're going to put food on their own tables, or whether their sons will ever find a job.

Even as life gets safer, longer, and richer, people clamor for new regulations every time a child falls down a well.

I didn't notice I was crying until a stewardess came by and gave me a tissue to blow my nose in. Her arm and wrist were slender and they formed a pretty arch, like the limb of a fruit tree, as she poked the tissue into my clenched fist. She didn't look at my eyes. It was a perfect gesture, an expression of indifference and concern, which is the most a drunk can ask for.