Quotes about Fever
After Jesus had left the synagogue, He went to the home of Simon, whose mother-in-law was suffering from a high fever. So they appealed to Jesus on her behalf,
— Luke 4:38
The LORD will strike you with wasting disease, with fever and inflammation, with scorching heat and drought, and with blight and mildew; these will pursue you until you perish.
— Deuteronomy 28:22
Plague went before Him, and fever followed in His steps.
— Habakkuk 3:5
In moments when fever, agony, and pain make it hard to pray, the suggestion of prayer that comes from merely holding the rosary - or better still, from caressing the Crucifix at the end of it - is tremendous!
— Bishop Fulton J. Sheen
Our skin is as hot as an oven with fever from our hunger.
— Lamentations 5:10
So he inquired as to the hour when his son had recovered, and they told him, “The fever left him yesterday at the seventh hour.”
— John 4:52
These experiences we can only find in individuals for whom religion exists not as a dull habit, but as an acute fever rather. But
— William James
When Jesus arrived at Peter’s house, He saw Peter’s mother-in-law sick in bed with a fever.
— Matthew 8:14
Wine is good in itself, but not for a man in a fever. If our souls were in perfect health, riches and authority, and strong powers of mind, would be very suitable to us: but they are weak and diseased, and require so great a grace of God to bear these advantages well, that we may be well content to be without them.
— John Henry Newman
But a spiritual fever, like a physical fever, actually has a productive function: it burns up disease. Think of your pain as a feverish burning up of fear. As you heal physically, extreme fever can lead to delirium. And as you heal spiritually, your fever can lead to delirium as well—a quiet delirium of the soul. But this too shall pass.
— Marianne Williamson
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forgetWhat thou among the leaves hast never known,The weariness, the fever, and the fretHere, where men sit and hear each other groan;Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,Where youth grows pale, and specter-thin, and dies;Where but to think is to be full of sorrowAnd leaden-eyed despairs.
— John Keats
Thou art a dreaming thing, A fever of thyself.
— John Keats