Quotes About Anxiety

Sally didn't believe a word the aunts said. Still she grew nervous from all this talk of death. Her skin became blotchy; her hair lost its shine. She stopped eating and sleeping and she hated to let Michael out of her sight. Now whenever he kissed her, she cried and wished she had never fallen in love in the first place. It had made her too helpless, because that's what love did. There was no way around it and no way to fight it. Now if she lost, she lost everything.

what?—the sky growing black, the wind moaning, the scrim of sand that blew across the empty lot forming itself into tooth and mouth and open jaw. "What are you afraid of?" More derisively than he'd meant it.

If not consciously acknowledged and mourned, uncertainty about one's descent can cause great anxiety and unrest, all the more so if, as in Alois's case, it is linked with an ominous rumor that can neither be proven nor completely refuted

tremor of nerves there, an affected nonchalance, a hurry to get through and a reluctance to let go.

The niggling idea of what she would do as Ray grew older and her husband worked increasingly long hours crept up the inside of her foot and along her calf to the back of her knee and began to climb into her lap

What you hope for, you also fear.

Toddlers are scared that displeasing their parents will result in losing their love, and this fear finds expression in the common difficulties of toddlerhood, such as separation anxiety, sleep disturbances, and inexplicable fears.

Your anxiety attach in the church sounds like a compromise formation. A what? Your unconscious wants to express the pain you feel about your own lost innocense. But your ego wants to keep it repressed. So the compromise is anxiety.

In the morning, she woke early. It was as if a pall lay over her. She turned on her back, lying rigid, expecting to hear at any moment the sound of the King's guard coming for her. Mother Lowe bustled in at seven

Woman is the confusion of man, an insatiable beast, a continuous anxiety, an incessant warfare, a daily ruin, a house of tempest and a hindrance to devotion," fulminated the misogynistic Vincent de Beauvais in the thirteenth century.

The desire to drink comes from the Big Monster—the illusion that drinking gives us pleasure or support. • The edgy feeling we get when we're without a drink is merely the Little Monster wanting to be fed. • The Little Monster was created by drinking in the first place. • Therefore drinking does not relieve the anxiety, it causes it.

A ranting psychotic is far enough away from mean to be recognized as mentally sick by your aunt Tilly, but how do you decide when everyday anxiety or sadness is severe enough to be considered mental disorder? One thing does seem perfectly clear. On the statistical face of it, it is ridiculous to stretch disorder so elastically that the near average person can qualify. Shouldn't most people be normal?

Who can live with this Consciousness and not wake frightened at sunrise?

How mercy gets to exist, where it comes from, perhaps can be seen from the inner evidence and images of the poem — an act of self-realization, self acceptance and the consequent and inevitable relaxation of protective anxiety and self hood and the ability to see and love others in themselves as angels without stupid mental self deceiving moral categories selecting who it is safe to sympathize with and who is not safe.

Un animal rabioso que nos ataca produce terror. Un hombre que nos persigue, nos aterra. Una habitación vacía, una calle vacía, la nada que sigue a nuestra muerte o la muerte de quienes amamos, nos angustía, no hay objeto, no hay nada; angustia.

It was hard not to wonder, as Whitney put the Tesla in park, whether this could possibly be true. The nature of disaster preparedness was so weird, as no one actually knew which disaster to be scared of. Steel doors, for example, weren't going to help with anthrax. Fifty years of gourmet freeze-dried foodstuffs, which a nearby project promised, weren't going to fix a bad marriage.

Fear has no brains; it is an idiot. The dismal witness that it bears and the cowardly counsel that it whispers are unrelated.

LONGEVITY, n. Uncommon extension of the fear of death.

Forever is too long to live in fear

Could I, in truth, no longer rely upon the testimony of my senses? A thousand half-formed apprehensions flashed across me in a moment.

A dread filled me, a dread unlike any I had ever felt. Not the terror of God, or his angels, but the sickly fear of man.

Where it concerns human beings, it is almost always true that the more anxiously we look for purity the more likely we are to come upon admixture and interbreeding.

Winning made people friendly. Winning too much made them nervous.

Threats for tomorrow don't cut very deep when today is so damn threatening.