Best 2190 quotes in «anxiety quotes» category

God knows your every need.

God only knew what ran underneath the fierce self-discipline and emotional control that had come with my upbringing. But the cracks were there, I knew it, and they frightened me.

God’s has limitless resources to meet all your needs.

God’s star promised peace to the whole world . . .too often man’s synthetic stars bring fear and anxiety. Our gadget-filled paradise, suspended in a hell of international insecurity, certainly does not offer us the happiness of which the last century dreamed. But there is still a star in the sky.

God's self-revelation is a higher authority than our feelings.

God, the only thing worse than having a panic attack was trying to have one in secret while someone else was watching.

Goldstein's central thesis is that anxiety is the subjective experience of the organism in a catastrophic condition . An organism is thrown into a catastrophic condition when it cannot cope with the demands of its environment and, therefore, feels a threat to its existence or to values it holds essential for its existence.

Guilt at least has a purpose; it tells us we’ve violated some ethical code. Ditto for remorse. Those feelings are educational; they manufacture wisdom. But regret—regret is useless.

Guilt was a thorny carpet Laid on the ground I walked on. Repent and redeem, No vile soul feels a disesteem. Whispers filling my head, Too loud to ignore, Pills upon pills I swallowed them all, For a brief stolen moment, I dove into an ocean of a blissfully quiet oblivion. A hollow elm, A wingless butterfly, A shadow of what was once I.

Half of mindfulness is not thinking about what has, might have, could have, or should have happened, or what will, could, or should happen. The other half is not judging what is happening.

Happiness lies in simplicity Complexity brings anxiety.

Has what you dread ever happened to you?" "N-no." "Then stop fearing that you might trip and tumble up into the sky. That's called "borrowing trouble." - Nevin

Has someone or something pushed your anxiety button? Answer it with prayer!

Have no anxiety about anything,' Paul writes to the Philippians. In one sense it is like telling a woman with a bad head cold not to sniffle and sneeze so much or a lame man to stop dragging his feet. Or maybe it is more like telling a wino to lay off the booze or a compulsive gambler to stay away from the track. Is anxiety a disease or an addiction? Perhaps it is something of both. Partly, perhaps, because you can't help it, and partly because for some dark reason you choose not to help it, you torment yourself with detailed visions of the worst that can possibly happen. The nagging headache turns out to be a malignant brain tumor. When your teenage son fails to get off the plane you've gone to meet, you see his picture being tacked up in the post office among the missing and his disappearance never accounted for. As the latest mid-East crisis boils, you wait for the TV game show to be interrupted by a special bulletin to the effect that major cities all over the country are being evacuated in anticipation of a nuclear attack. If Woody Allen were to play your part on the screen, you would roll in the aisles with the rest of them, but you're not so much as cracking a smile at the screen inside your own head. Does the terrible fear of disaster conceal an even more terrible hankering for it? Do the accelerated pulse and the knot in the stomach mean that, beneath whatever their immediate cause, you are acting out some ancient and unresolved drama of childhood? Since the worst things that happen are apt to be the things you don't see coming, do you think there is a kind of magic whereby, if you only can see them coming, you will be able somehow to prevent them from happening? Who knows the answer? In addition to Novocain and indoor plumbing, one of the few advantages of living in the twentieth century is the existence of psychotherapists, and if you can locate a good one, maybe one day you will manage to dig up an answer that helps. But answer or no answer, the worst things will happen at last even so. 'All life is suffering' says the first and truest of the Buddha's Four Noble Truths, by which he means that sorrow, loss, death await us all and everybody we love. Yet "the Lord is at hand. Have no anxiety about anything," Paul writes, who was evidently in prison at the time and with good reason to be anxious about everything, 'but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.' He does not deny that the worst things will happen finally to all of us, as indeed he must have had a strong suspicion they were soon to happen to him. He does not try to minimize them. He does not try to explain them away as God's will or God's judgment or God's method of testing our spiritual fiber. He simply tells the Philippians that in spite of them—even in the thick of them—they are to keep in constant touch with the One who unimaginably transcends the worst things as he also unimaginably transcends the best. 'In everything,' Paul says, they are to keep on praying. Come Hell or high water, they are to keep on asking, keep on thanking, above all keep on making themselves known. He does not promise them that as a result they will be delivered from the worst things any more than Jesus himself was delivered from them. What he promises them instead is that 'the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.' The worst things will surely happen no matter what—that is to be understood—but beyond all our power to understand, he writes, we will have peace both in heart and in mind. We are as sure to be in trouble as the sparks fly upward, but we will also be "in Christ," as he puts it. Ultimately not even sorrow, loss, death can get at us there. That is the sense in which he dares say without risk of occasioning ironic laughter, "Have no anxiety about anything." Or, as he puts it a few lines earlier, 'Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say, Rejoice!

He is now judging himself, harshly, by his captors' rules.

Hear folks talkin' about how some of us got the weight of the world on our shoulders? Fuck, maybe we do, but I'll hold onto it. At least it's somethin', you know?

He had to pause for his usual misgivings.

He could pour himself into my little paper cup heart and my emptiness would finally have a meaning.

He felt like normal. Filled with anxiety, dread, sure. But even that wasn't unusual...

He Himself makes the mortals anxious, and He Himself takes the anxiety away.

He looked at me, that first day, like he had just found something he’d lost a thousand years ago.

He meant everything he said, when he said it. But this is his default. And it won out. Right now you're depressed about one thing. Before you were depressed about everything. These are good times for you." "I'm afraid of loving again. I'm afraid I've lost my faith." "You haven't." "The trapdoor I have in my mind? That can go to those bad places? It's almost gave way again." "You know the ways to keep it nailed shut.

Her anti-anxiety medication was making her anxious

Henry Adams observes that John Hay has the ability to take the world as a whole rather than pulling it to pieces in criticism. He also observes that, in the routine of a stressful job, this perspective is challenged

Her emotions were a brewing tidal wave during her days of pensive solitude - waiting, anticipating the best, dreading the worst. - 'Souls of Her Daughters

Her teeth and lips are tinted purple from the Kool-Aid. Mine are probably purple too, but I can’t see them. You can’t see your own face from within it. This is something I have always struggled with

Her voice sounded much cooler than she felt. Inside, her internal organs were grinding themselves into nervous pulp. Her intestines were gone. Her kidneys were disintegrating. Her stomach was wringing itself out, yanking on her trachea.

He thought the library door would never open again, but that he would be left to live out the rest of his life rooted to the spot on the library carpet, afraid to move a muscle lest the house fall upon his shoulders. He deliberately shrugged them and shuffled his feel just to prove to himself that it could be done.

his face, though lined, bore few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in Tellson's Bank were principally occupied with the cares of other people; and perhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on.

[He] was anxious about something, but he knew: he was worried because to be alive was to worry. Life was scary; it was unknowable.

He who cares for the sparrows and numbers the hairs of our head, cannot possibly fail us.

He was agitated for some reason that he could not name. (page 35)

Hey man let me ask you something. Do you sort of feel like you are carrying a low level anxiety about the existence of shark attacks? I mean, just the fact that it really happens, it's horrible, it's horrible enough that you kind of have to worry about it, at least a little bit, almost all the time...

His ideas assumed a kind of stupefied and mechanical quality which is peculiar to despair.

His terror became his companion. When it seemed to diminish, or grow easier to bear, he forced himself to remember the details of what he had said and done so that his fears returned, redoubled. His previous life, which had been without fear, he now dismissed as an illusion since he had come to believe that only in fear could the truth be found. When he woke from sleep without anxiety, he asked himself, What is wrong? What is missing? And then his door opened slowly, and a child put its head around and gazed at him: there are wheels, Ned thought, wheels within wheels. The curtains were now always closed, for the sun horrified him: he was reminded of a film he had seen some time before, and how the brightness of the noonday light had struck the water where a man, in danger of drowning, was struggling for his life.

Historians will probably call our era “the age of anxiety.” Anxiety is the natural result when our hopes are centered in anything short of God and His will for us.

How can I put this? There's a king of gap between what I think is real and what's really real. I get this feeling like some kind of little something-or-other is there, somewhere inside me... like a burglar is in the house, hiding in a wardrobe... and it comes out every once in a while and messes up whatever order or logic I've established for myself. The way a magnet can make a machine go crazy.

Horses get anxious when their expectations are not met.

How could she be anxious when everything was so cheerful? Very easily, as it happens. Brain chemistry doesn’t care about how pretty things are.

How do you fill the space between, "God says it," and, "I believe it,"?

How does one kill fear, I wonder? How do you shoot a spectre through the heart, slash off its spectral head, take it by its spectral throat?

However vivid they might be, past images and future delights did not protect Sylvia from the present, which "rules despotic over pale shadows of past and future". That was Sylvia's genius and her Panic Bird- her total lack of nostalgia. She had no armor. This left her especially vulnerable in New York, where she was removed from the context of her life, severed from that reassuring arc.

How hard it is to now believe that these strong, merciless chains of fear and hopelessness, rendering the limbs of my mind motionless, were once innocuous mere threads.” -Mehul.M

I admit that at times my prayer for my children is nothing more than vocalized unbelief aimed at God.

How much time is wasted in what is called thought, but is merely care--an anxious idling over the fancied probabilities of result

Humans are born with a hodge-podge of various brain circuits, that possess the seeds of peace, fear, love, hate, rage, pain, love, stress and faith. All these elements compose the emotional domain of our mental life. All these characters are ingrained in our limbic system, that keep our head straight in the path of survival. We humans can survive, only if, all these elements of our brain circuits function properly. Failure of any one element would mean extinction of the whole species.

Hypochondriacs who have a fanciful anxiety about their health will never be well regardless of their physical condition.

I always feel anxious if anyone’s close to uncovering my secrets.

Human beings are walking containers holding ideas, beliefs, feelings and triggers. Love and fears is the only thing that can over power these systems. Everyone lives in this container as they interact with the world ,and sometimes, a combination of these things can create their own imaginary prison.

Humans are lamentably insecure creatures.