Quotes About Anxiety

Another learning which cost me much to recognize, can be stated in four words. The facts are friendly. (...) Especially in our early investigations I can well remember the anxiety of waiting to see how the findings came out. Suppose our hypotheses were disproved! Suppose we were mistaken in our views! (...) I have perhaps been slow in coming to realize that the facts are always friendly. Every bit of evidence that one can acquire, in any area, leads one that much closer to what is true.

do other animals have human emotions? Yes, they do. Do humans have animal emotions? Yes; they're largely the same. Fear, aggression, well-being, anxiety, and pleasure are the emotions of shared brain structures and shared chemistries, originated in shared ancestry.

this midlevel cultural-capital audience is not as far from the average white pop critic as we might have expected. We usually make middling incomes or worse, and while most have university degrees, our expertise is usually more self-taught than PhD-certified, a pattern believed would produce an anxious, fact-hoarding intellectual style in contrast with the relaxed mastery of a fully legitimated cultural elite.

He lay there watching her, and when she continued to unbutton her dress, his smile widened. "Mr. Reed, you realize that if anything we do tonight causes you a medical problem, Mr. Wilburn will give you such a scold," she said, hoping that she sounded more serene than she felt. "I'm all aquiver about Mr. Wilburn," he said.

1.3 Restlessness

It is in order to escape this anxiety that we have imagined the existence of "eternity," a strange world outside of time that we would like to be inhabited by gods, by a God, or by immortal souls.

Our fear of death seems to me to be an error of evolution.

The truth is, I was afraid the day I walked into Stanford. And I was afraid the day I walked out.

Even with the anxiety over her first day of work at her new job looming, Lexie Parker still took the time to count out the brightly colored pills and filled the plastic holder, labeled by individual days and divided

I remember being onstage once when I didn't have fear: I got so scared I didn't have fear that it brought on an anxiety attack.

Sober, he had to keep busy and purposeful, always moving. If he stopped, he immediately heard the sandstorm inside himself, and it terrified him.

There are limits to the dimension of fear. Until one meets the unknown. Then terror has no boundaries, no walls to keep it contained.

You obliterate my central sun and i hate and fear you for it . . . every moment with you is fraught with my anxiety of failure to be who you want me to be, to say what you want me to say . . . You don't remember you have a daughter. You never see my pain. You see yourself.

She had never had a daydream that dreamed itself, like nightmares. That crawled out of her brain like a creature of the dark. A daymare.

What would she have? Coke, said Annie. And when she tasted the familiar drink, how much less scary the world was, and how much less frightening her task.

I stay in that state of mind for the next couple of days, in the places that only exist in the past. The things you can't undo get lodged in the darkest corners of your mind, where nothing ever seems to get solved, just recycled into new anxiety.

There was no description of the years in town, of supplementing farm income with wages, or of the anxiety engendered by poverty.

All through the fall we were greatly worried about Eleanor. An overlooked 'sticker' in a finger, though poulticed and removed as soon as noticed, led to a case of blood poisoning in a sort of local form. It affected the glands of the lymphatic system of her whole arm and for a time looked very bad. We are so far from any reliable help that I felt exceedingly anxious.

When I'm nervous, I get nasty. It's a problem.

I go over the mistake in my head a dozen times a day. How I was hiding in a closet upstairs at the Salinger house. How I had to pee but couldn't leave. So I pissed in a mug—a ceramic mug—and I put the mug down on the hardwood floor of the closet. I ran when I had the chance, and there is no way around it: I forgot the mug.

This is why America loves Stephen King so much; he keeps us on the edge of our seats until it hurts.

I always look at the list of viewers and do you know what it was like to look at that list and see your name less and less?' FUCKING INSTAGRAM AND NO ONE SHOULD LOOK AT THAT FUCKING LIST.

The Uber driver is unassuming and blank and I wouldn't be surprised if he kills us all.

The fear of an unknown never resolves, because the unknown expands infinitely outward, leaving you to cling pitifully to any small shelter of the known: a cracker has twelve calories; the skin, when cut, bleeds.