Quit worrying about your health. It will go away.

The words of Robert Orben, “Quit worrying about your health. It will go away,” gleam with irony and wisdom hidden beneath humor. At first hearing, they provoke laughter — a wry joke about the futility of our endless fears. But like the sayings of the ancient philosophers, this jest conceals a profound truth: worry is itself a sickness, and in obsessing over health, one destroys the very peace that sustains it. Orben, a man known for his wit, speaks here not merely as a comedian but as a philosopher disguised in laughter. He reminds us that life cannot be lived in constant anxiety, and that the mind which frets over every breath, every ache, every imagined ailment, has already fallen ill in spirit.

The origin of this quote lies in Orben’s mastery of satire — his art of revealing truth through jest. As a writer and humorist in mid-twentieth-century America, he watched a society increasingly consumed by self-diagnosis, fear, and control. His words were a mirror held to the human tendency to worry itself into exhaustion. Beneath the smile, Orben’s message was serious: that health is not preserved by fear but by freedom. To live constantly in dread of illness is to live half-dead already. The body may be sound, but the mind becomes a prisoner of its own unease.

The ancients would have understood Orben’s wisdom well. The Stoics, like Seneca, taught that fear magnifies what it dreads. “He suffers more,” Seneca said, “who suffers before it is necessary.” When we worry obsessively about our health, we summon sickness in the imagination before it ever touches the flesh. The body thrives on calm, on balance, on joy. Anxiety poisons these fountains. Thus, the very act of worrying weakens the life force it seeks to protect. Orben’s irony strikes true: if you spend your days consumed by concern for your health, your peace — and soon your health itself — will go away.

History offers luminous examples of this truth. Consider the case of Florence Nightingale, the great nurse of the Crimean War. Surrounded by death, fatigue, and disease, she did not live free of fear — but she refused to let fear command her. Her strength, both physical and spiritual, came not from constant vigilance over her own body, but from devotion to something greater than herself. She worked tirelessly, breathing in the contagions of despair, yet her spirit burned bright because it was focused on service, not self. The worrier shrinks life into a fragile shell; the courageous expand it into purpose. Nightingale’s health was not mere bodily endurance, but the radiance of meaning.

Orben’s humor is also a warning against the tyranny of control. In a world obsessed with perfection — the perfect diet, the perfect exercise, the perfect body — we have forgotten the simple art of living. Health, like happiness, cannot be captured by force. It is born from balance, laughter, rest, and a heart free from fear. The man who counts every calorie yet forgets to smile is sicker than the one who feasts with gratitude. To worry endlessly about preserving life is to miss the very point of it: to live.

This quote also reminds us that the mind governs the body, not the other way around. When the mind is restless, the body mirrors that unrest. Physicians of old understood this harmony; they called it the union of psyche and soma. The ancients prescribed not only herbs and baths but music, poetry, and friendship. For they knew that joy is medicine, and worry a slow poison. Thus, Orben’s jest is not cynicism — it is prescription. “Quit worrying,” he says, “for worry is the very illness you fear.”

The lesson of Orben’s words is simple yet vital: care for your health, but do not worship it. Eat with mindfulness, rest with gratitude, move with joy — and then release all fear. Remember that peace of mind is the truest medicine, and laughter the purest breath. When you catch yourself worrying, breathe deeply and return to life’s simple gifts: sunlight, companionship, music, and purpose. For the soul that is calm and content sustains the body far longer than fear ever could.

So let these words be carried forward as a teaching for all ages: life with worry is no life at all. The man who spends his days fearing sickness dies a thousand small deaths, but the one who laughs, loves, and lives with faith conquers them all. As Orben’s gentle wit reveals, the cure for anxiety lies not in control, but in trust — trust in the body’s wisdom, trust in the spirit’s resilience, and trust in the simple truth that life, when embraced with joy, will take care of itself.