Anxiety is a fear, but a fear of nothing. Its object, as nothing, imparts to nothing some measure of content.

Anxiety is a point at which we, in our everyday existence, are forced to face the way in which our experience is organized around our own death.



Anxiety is a mood that, in its extreme form, discloses things in their full but heretofore concealed strangeness as what is radically other.
Anxiety is a 'mood', not an emotion, and unlike an emotion, it is not about any particular being, but about beings as a whole and about one's being-in-the-world as a whole.
Anxiety is a qualification of dreaming spirit. Awake, the difference between myself and my other is posited... sleeping, it is suspended... dreaming, it is an intimated nothing.
Anxiety is a mood in which everyday things lose their significance and 'everyday familiarity collapses'. It s the existential mode of the 'not at home'.


Autocorrect Changed: "I have so much anxiety I can barely breathe" to "I'm fine."