C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Care
I am sure care’s an enemy to life.
As rust eats iron, so care eats the heart.
To carry care to bed is to sleep with a pack on your back.
Care, admitted as guest, quickly turns to be master.
Cast all your care on God; that anchor holds.
Many of our cares are but a morbid way of looking at our privileges.
Second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on.
Some must watch while some must sleep, so runs the world away.
Providence has given us hope and sleep as a compensation for the many cares of life.
Care seeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes, and builds himself caves to abide in them.
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive for things that are not to be remedied.
Care may acquire wealth, which, when acquired, care must guard and worry about.
O, polished perturbation! golden care that keepest the ports of slumber open wide to many a watchful night!
Black care sits behind all sorts of horses, and gives a trink-gilt to postilions all over the map.
All cares appear twice as large as they really are, owing to their emptiness and darkness; and so is it with the grave.
Cares are often more difficult to throw off than sorrows; the latter die with time, the former grow upon it.
He who climbs above the cares of this world and turns his face to his God, has found the sunny side of life.
God gives us power to bear all the sorrows of His making; but He does not give us power to bear the sorrows of our own making, which the anticipation of sorrow most assuredly is.
Our cares are the mothers, not only of our charities and virtues, but of our best joys and most cheering and enduring pleasures.
Eat not thy heart; which forbids to afflict our souls, and waste them with vexatious cares.
Why art thou troubled and anxious about many things? One thing is needful—to love Him and to sit attentively at His feet.
He that taketh his own cares upon himself loads himself in vain with an uneasy burden. I will cast all my cares on God; He hath bidden me; they cannot burden Him.
I met a brother who, describing a friend of his, said he was like a man who had dropped a bottle and broken it, and put all the pieces in his bosom, where they were cutting him perpetually.
Quick is the succession of human events; the cares of to-day are seldom the cares of to-morrow; and when we lie down at night, we may safely say to most of our troubles, “Ye have done your worst, and we shall meet no more.”
Men do not avail themselves of the riches of God’s grace. They love to nurse their cares, and seem as uneasy without some fret as an old friar would be without his hair girdle. They are commanded to cast their cares upon the Lord, but even when they attempt it, they do not fail to catch them up again, and think it meritorious to walk burdened.