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Quote by Laura Childs

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Death by Darjeeling

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Laura Childs

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“Jesus didn't speak of hell so that we could study, debate and write books about it. He gave us these passages so that we would live holy lives. Jesus evidently hates it when we tear into our brothers or sisters with demeaning words, words that fail to honor the people around us as the beautiful image-bearing creatures that they are.”

TruthHellEternity
Book:Erasing Hell: What God Said about Eternity, and the Things We've Made Up
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“The night inches on. I could make a career out of worrying, if only anyone would pay me. What do I worry about during these long nights? Money. Death. Failure. The familiar horsemen of those quiet apocalypses that happen only when the sun‘s gone down. In the middle of the night, I can worry my house onto the edge of a cliff, forever about to topple onto the rocks below. I am only ever a missed wage packet away from total annihilation. I carry too much debt. I own nothing. I own too much...”

WorrySeasonal Affective DisorderAnxiety At Night
Book:Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times
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“As I sit on the folding metal chair I begin to fear getting up. As the finale approaches, I experience outright panic. What if my feet no longer move? What if my muscles lock? What if this neuritis or neuropathy or neurological inflammation has evolved into a condition more malign? I once in my late twenties had an exclusionary diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, believe later by the neurologist who made the diagnosis to be in remission, but what if it is no longer in remission? What if it never was? What if it has returned? What if I stand up from this folding chair in this rehearsal room on West Forty-second Street and collapse, fall to the floor, the folding metal chair collapsing with me? Or what if--- (Another series of dire possibilities occurs to me, this series even more alarming than the last---) What if the damage extends beyond the physical? What if the problem is now cognitive? What if the absence of style that I welcomed at one point---the directness that I encouraged, even cultivated---what if this absence of style has now taken on a pernicious life of its own? What if my new inability to summon the right word, the apt thought, the connection that enables the words to make sense, the rhythm, the music itself--- What if this new inability is systemic? What if I can never again locate the words that work?”

WorryAnxiety
Author:Joan Didion
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