...a renunciation of life.

I suppose that occasionally I worry about growing old and decrepit. Like I can't last forever. Losing my physical being. My mental being. Piece by piece. Slowly. If not abruptly. And then I always get busy with living the rest of my life. If I stayed occupied with my worried thoughts, I might lapse into depression. I'd become a worry wart. And I wouldn't be happy. Maybe that's the greatest sin of all. Choosing to be unhappy. It's a renunciation of life. --Jim Broede