#seas

There is within the human heart a tough fibrous root of fallen life whose nature is to possess, always to possess. It covets `things' with a deep and fierce passion. The pronouns `my' and `mine' look innocent enough in print, but their constant and universal use is significant. They express the real nature of the old Adamic man better than a thousand volumes of theology could do. They are verbal symptoms of our deep disease. The roots of our hearts have grown down into things, and we dare not pull up one rootlet lest we die. Things have become necessary to us, a development never originally intended. God's gifts now take the place of God, and the whole course of nature is upset by the monstrous substitution. ↗

— A.W. Tozer

#sin #spiritual-life #life

But then fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you. ↗

— Stephen King

#fall #seasons #summer #autumn

Health and disease are the same thing—vital action intended to preserve, maintain, and protect the body. There is no more reason for treating disease than there is for treating health. ↗

— Herbert M. Shelton

#healing #health #medicine #natural-hygiene #nature

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. ↗

— T.S. Eliot

#cruelty #poetry #seasons #weather #dead

What is more cheerful, now, in the fall of the year, than an open-wood-fire? Do you hear those little chirps and twitters coming out of that piece of apple-wood? Those are the ghosts of the robins and blue-birds that sang upon the bough when it was in blossom last Spring. In Summer whole flocks of them come fluttering about the fruit-trees under the window: so I have singing birds all the year round. ↗

— Thomas Bailey Aldrich

#happiness #imagery #seasons #twitter

Whether I or anyone else accepted the concept of alcoholism as a disease didn't matter; what mattered was that when treated as a disease, those who suffered from it were most likely to recover. ↗

— Craig Ferguson

#disease #pathology #recovery #rehab #recovery

The fruition of the year had come and the night should have been fine with a moon in the sky and the crisp sharp promise of frost in the air, but it wasn't that way. It rained and little puddles of water shone under the street lamps on Main Street. In the woods in the darkness beyond the Fair Ground water dripped from the black trees. ↗

— Sherwood Anderson

#disappointment #ohio #rain #seasons #subtle

Being with Demetri wasn’t the absence of pain, it was the added presence of peace, making it easier and easier for that little part of my heart to heal again.--From Pull: A Seaside Novel ↗

— Rachel Van Dyken

#new-adult-romance #pull #tear-a-seaside-novel #contemporary

The 40-hour work week, long considered the gold standard, has quietly and insidiously stretched into 50 to 60 hours. Despite this accepted practice, social commentators and the average person agree that functioning at such a pace can't possibly be good for one's mental or physical health. /So I ask you: if the expanded work-week isn't healthy for someone in good physical condition, how can it possibly be acceptable for someone with a chronic illness? Quite simply, it's not. ↗

— Rosalind Joffe

#chronic-illness #mental-health

Where the roots of private virtue are diseased, the fruit of public probity cannot but be corrupt. ↗

— Felix Adler

#corrupt #diseased #fruit #private #probity