I must stop him from being one of those who call themselves good because they have no claws.
IRVIN D. YALOMDeath anxiety is the mother of all religions, which, in one way or another, attempt to temper the anguish of our finitude.
More Irvin D. Yalom Quotes
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There is some evidence, for example, that those who enter the death-related professions (soldiers, doctors, priests, and morticians) may in part be motivated by a need to obtain control over death anxiety.
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He had learned long ago that, in general, the easier it was for anxious patients to reach him, the less likely they were to call. (107)
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My hunch is yes. It would certainly do something for those who are most ruthless, who tend to make others most miserable.
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None of my patients are really troubled by the idea that some part of what they say might be in a book in the future.
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All these things I’ve written so much about. That’s why I’ve made such a practice really, over and over to hammer home the point of self-revelation and being more of yourself and showing yourself. Every book I write I want to get that in there.
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When that person dies, the whole cluster dies,too, vanishes from the living memory. I wonder who that person will be for me. Whose death will make me truly dead?
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The path to decision may be hard because it leads into the territory of both finiteness and groundlessness—domains soaked in anxiety.
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One comprehends oneself in order not to be preoccupied with oneself.
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If you want to choose the pleasure of growth, prepare yourself for some pain.
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If I had to pick out a therapist in a movie that I’d like to go see as a personal therapist, it would be Robin Williams in Goodwill Hunting.
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Reality always creeps in–the reality of our helplessness and our mortality; the reality that, despite our reach for the stars, a creaturely fate awaits us.
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…the more unlived your life, the greater your death anxiety.
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Since then mountains and torrential rivers and whatever separates and alienates have been cast between us, and even if we wanted to get together, we couldn’t. But when you now think of that little footbridge, words fail you and you sob and marvel.
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Death, however, does itch. It itches all the time. It is always with us, scratching at some inner door.
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I thought a lot about how someone very old is the last living individual to have known some person or cluster of people.
IRVIN D. YALOM






