Quit Your Worrying! | Page 2

This I have attempted herein to show, with the full
knowledge, however, that no one person's recipe can infallibly be used
by any other person--so that, in reality, all I have tried to do is to set

forth the means I have followed to teach myself the delightful lesson of
serenity, of freedom from worry, and thereby to suggest to receptive
minds a way by which they may possibly attain the same desirable end.
It was the learned and wise Dr. Johnson who wrote:
He may be justly numbered amongst the benefactors of mankind, who
contracts the great rules of life into short sentences, that may easily be
impressed on the memory, and taught by frequent recollection to recur
habitually to the mind.
I have no desire to claim as original the title used for these observations,
but I do covet the joy of knowing that I have so impressed it upon the
memory of thousands that by its constant recurrence it will aid in
banishing the monster, worry.
It is almost unavoidable that, in a practical treatise of this nature, there
should be some repetition, both in description of worries and the
remedies suggested. To the critical reader, however, let me say: Do not
worry about this, for I am far more concerned to get my thought into
the heads and hearts of my readers than I am to be esteemed a great
writer. Let me help but one troubled soul to quit worrying and I will
forego all the honors of the ages that might have come to me had I been
an essayist of power. And I have repeated purposely, for I know that
some thoughts have to knock again and again, ere they are admitted to
the places where they are the most needed.
I have written strongly; perhaps some will think too strongly. These,
however, must remember that I have written advisedly. I have been
considering the subject for half or three parts of a life-time. I have
studied men and women; carefully watched their lives; talked with
them, and seen the lines worry has engraved on their faces. I have seen
and felt the misery caused by their unnecessary worries. I have sat by
the bedsides of people made chronic invalids by worry, and I have
stood in the cells of maniacs driven insane by worry. Hence I hate it in
all its forms, and have expressed myself only as the facts have justified.
Wherein I have sought to show how one might Quit his Worrying,
these pages presuppose an earnest desire, a sincere purpose, on the part
of the reader to attain that desirable end. There is no universal medicine
which one can drink in six doses and thus be cured of his disease. I do
not offer my book as a mental cure-all, or nostrum that, if swallowed
whole, will cure in five days or ten. As I have tried to show, I conceive

worry to be unnatural and totally unnecessary, because of its practical
denial of what ought to be, and I believe may be, the fundamental basis
of a man's life, viz., his perfect, abiding assurance in the fatherly love
of God. As little Pippa sang:
God's in his heaven, All's right with the world.
The only way, therefore, to lose our sense of worry is to get back to
naturalness, to God, and learn the peace, joy, happiness, serenity, that
come with practical trust in Him. With some people this change may
come instantly; with others, more slowly. Personally I have had to learn
slowly, "line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little, there a
little." And I would caution my readers not to expect too much all at
once. But I am fully convinced that as faith, trust, and naturalness grow,
worry will cease, will slough off, like the dead skin of the serpent, and
leave those once bound by it free from its malign influence. Who
cannot see and feel that such a consummation is devoutly to be wished,
worth working and earnestly striving for?
If I help a few I shall be more than repaid, if many, my heart will
rejoice.
[Signed: George Wharton James]
Pasadena, Calif. February, 1916.

QUIT YOUR WORRYING!

CHAPTER I
THE CURSE OF WORRY
Of how many persons can it truthfully be said they never worry, they
are perfectly happy, contented, serene? It would be interesting if each
of my readers were to recall his acquaintances and friends, think over
their condition in this regard, and then report to me the result. What a
budget of worried persons I should have to catalogue, and alas, I am
afraid, how few of the serene would there be named. When John
Burroughs wrote his immortal poem, Waiting, he struck a deeper note
than