Quotes About Anxiety

It was the beginning of an anxiety that would never end, except with the deaths of either or both; and anxiety is the beginning of conscience, which is the parent of the soul but it is not compatible with innocence.

Being alive isn't a betrayal. Being afraid to live is.

Fear is inky. Fear stains the white sheet of consciousness that one comes swaddled in and no amount of earthly scrubbing can make it completely clean again.

You know that day after day of, Oh God what am I going to do with myself feeling? The fear of the emptiness that it implies keeps me going.

Fiction, the time-honoured resource of the ill-at-ease, would have to come to her aid, but the choice of a book presented some difficulties...

and, after satisfying himself that the business was being looked after, disappeared again into the busy street. They suspected that their days in Hilltop Road were numbered, that Ostrovski would dispossess

Having these symptoms is not a guarantee that you have hypoglycemia. This is why many people who do have hypoglycemia have been told that they are having panic attacks.

Love is never as ferocious as when you think it's going to leave you.

I moved to New York City for my health. I'm paranoid and New York was the only place where my fears were justified.

Ten Worst Feelings: Cheated on. Over thinking. Lied to. Heart broken. Not cared for. Losing. Scared. Assuming. Nervous. Letting go.

Today is the tomorrow we worried about yesterday.

Perhaps fear in the abstract is worse than facing the immediate reality.' Vera had still seemed preoccupied by morbid thoughts, but her voice had been cheerful. She probably wasn't afraid of anything. Joe hadn't bothered answering.

When you got old there was the worry of indignity and dying.

She paused for a moment and tried to work out why she was so horrified at the prospect of living in the middle of the country. 'I never feel safe away from the edge.

She'd always been eager to please – part of her problem.

Vera had never been bothered by post-mortems. Dead people couldn't hurt you; it was the living you should be frightened of.

The shock of waking suddenly had made her muscles tense and she'd never been any good at relaxing.

They might share the same secret, but they had different interests. The thought worried her. It was one of the reasons she was scared about leaving prison: that Shirley might land her in the shit, big time.

He'd been obsessed with dying when he was a small boy. He'd banged his head against the pillow in an attempt to drive away the thoughts. How was it possible not to exist? How could he not exist? As a teenager, the preoccupation was still there, but he'd hidden it more skilfully, turning the obsession into an intellectual pose, a cloak to hide his real terror.

She was so used to living alone that gatherings of people, even people she cared about, freaked her out a bit. It was a sort of claustrophobia and occasionally she felt close to a panic attack.

Annie found herself being drawn into the conversation despite herself. She'd been terrified of dying since she was a child. Not the reality of pain or illness, but the idea of the world going on without her.

Perhaps fear in the abstract is worse than facing the immediate reality.

Now, dressing for breakfast, she felt sluggish and tense.

If there's an audience, I think they're going to expect me to be funny. But what if I'm not funny? What if I fail?