2 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: matthew-mcconaughey-dazed-and-confused.jpg]
>never particularly understood the quote: " A witticism is an epitaph on the death of a feeling"
>"to marry is to halve one's right and double one's duties
I think, for me, that saying affirmed my convinction and aversion to marriage or, in respect to the "death of a feeling", wrought the cessation/death of my desire to become married.
Am I on the right track, there?
5 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: Anxiety-and-Related-Signs-Symptoms.gif]
First of all I want to say that this is a serious matter. I know everyone here likes to play and joke, and I think it's cool. But now I will speak of something very intimate and serious, and would like to ask for your help.
I suffer from anxiety disorder. At first it was general, and varied from situation to situation (my first crisis was about 3 years ago). However, now the anxiety is attacking me during the time I do what I like to do moust: write.
Whenever I sit down to write literature, I start to feel chest tightness, palpitations, shortness of breath and dizziness. This prevents me from working.
I'm doing medical treatment (consulting a psychiatrist), and I've been taking a drug called Escitalopram (known in Brazil as Exodus or Lexapro - I'm Brazilian). However, it's been 44 days that I am taking the medicine, but it does not seem to be working.
I feel very bad because I'm afraid of never again be able to write, and writing is my life, (is what gives meaning to my existence). When we are with the flu, with some inflammation, or hungover, we know the horrible symptoms will pass, it's only a matter of time. But psychological diseases are not like that: we do not know whether they will pass or not.
I wanted to ask if anyone here has suffered with anxiety (especially with anxiety at the time of writing, with symptoms such as dizziness, shortness of breath and chest tightness).
I wonder what medicine is, in his opinion, is the best against anxiety.
Any advice will be very welcome.
I appreciate the help.
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"Ladies and gentlemen," said a voice that came from the radio receiver—a man's clear, calm, implacable voice, the kind of voice that had not been heard on the airwaves for years—"Mr. Thompson will not speak to you tonight. His time is up. I have taken it over. You were to hear a report on the world crisis. That is what you are going to hear."
Three gasps of recognition greeted the voice, but nobody had the power to notice them among the sounds of the crowd, which were beyond the stage of cries. One was a gasp of triumph, another—of terror, the third—of
bewilderment. Three persons had recognized the speaker: Dagny, Dr. Stadler, Eddie Willers. Nobody glanced at Eddie Willers; but Dagny and Dr. Stadler glanced at each other. She saw that his face was distorted by as evil a terror as one could ever bear to see; he saw that she knew and that the way she looked at him was as if the speaker had slapped his face.
"For twelve years, you have been asking: Who is John Galt? This is John Galt speaking. I am the man who loves his life. I am the man who does not sacrifice his love or his values. I am the man who has deprived you of victims and thus has destroyed your world, and if you wish to know why you are perishing—you who dread knowledge—I am the man who will now tell you."
The chief engineer was the only one able to move; he ran to a television set and struggled frantically with its dials. But the screen remained empty; the speaker had not chosen to be seen. Only his voice filled the airways of the country—of the world, thought the chief engineer—sounding as if he were speaking here, in this room, not to a group, but to one man; it was not the tone of addressing a meeting, but the tone of addressing a mind.
"You have heard it said that this is an age of moral crisis. You have said it yourself, half in fear, half in hope that the words had no meaning.
72 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: 1360849401256.jpg]
What do you think of this?
He walked slowly, he opened the door quickly, he looked backwards quickly, someone was approaching him slowly, he starting to walk away quickly but the person behind him began to catch up. Slowly he turned around again and the man behind him was now running slowly, ''QUICKLY*'' he shouted, ''Sorry!'' replied the man ''I can't read the pattern! He hasn't posted it yet!''