Quotes About Terror

The cosmic universe owed its development to the ignorance of the highest God, to anxiety, terror, and forgetfulness...

Das einzige Mittel, dem Entsetzen zu entgehen, besteht darin, sich dem Entsetzen zu überlassen.

The true fear is the fear of being afraid.

Only devotion prevailed against the terror. Love might and must yield in flesh, but never in spirit. The mother rocked her tortured child and was afraid of nothing but to be separated from it. Husband nursed wife in secret and in secret gave a kiss to the lips that would infect him. Whole families locked and bolted themselves inside their homes and defended the privilege of dying together.

There's a blessing in the moments after terror and before confirmation.

If there's one good thing about terror, Lydia now understands, it's that it's more immediate than grief.

If there's one good thing about terror, Lydia now understands, it's that it's more immediate than grief. She knows that she will soon have to contend with what's happened, but for now, the possibility of what might happen still serves to anesthetize her from the worst of the anguish.

The truth is that there is no terror untempered by some great moral idea.

Stay quiet or the last sound you'll hear is your brain exiting through your eye sockets. It's sort of a bang/slurp sound. Trust me, you wouldn't like it.

So I'm going to do an H.P. Lovecraft and write that it was so horrible that it cannot be described, and leave it at that.

These people know the reality and laugh at it. Such laughter has little concern with what is funny. It is often bitter and sometimes a little mad, for it is the laugh under the mask of tragedy, and also the laughter that masks tears. They are the same. It is the laughter of people who value love and friendship and plenty, who have lived with terror and death and hate. - , Return to Laughter (1954)

How can one explain the attraction terror holds for some minds — and why for intellectuals? . . .In a totalitarian and terrorist regime, man is no longer a unique being with infinite possibilities and limitless choices but a number, a puppet, with just this difference — numbers and puppets are not susceptible to fear.

How are we ever to disarm evil and abolish death as a means to an end? How are we ever to break the cycle of violence and rage? Can terror coexist with justice? Does murder call for murder, despair for revenge? Can hate engender anything but hate?

How are we ever to disarm evil and abolish death as a means to an end? How are we ever to break the cycle of violence and rage? Can terror coexist with justice? Does murder call for murder, despair for revenge? Can hate engender anything but hate? The

the circumstance of the veil, throwing a mystery over the subject, that excited a faint degree of terror. But a terror of this nature, as it occupies and expands the mind, and elevates it to high expectation, is purely sublime, and leads us, by a kind of fascination, to seek even the object, from which we appear to shrink.

The roar of an angry crowd is one of the most terrifying sounds in the world.

in that single glimpse they saw to their terror that they were only a short distance outside the line of breakers

For he felt about the whole affair the touch somewhere of a great Outer Horror - and his scattered powers had not as yet had time to collect themselves into a definite attitude of fighting self-control. ("The Wendigo")

For nothing could explain away the livid terror that had dropped over his face while he stood there sniffing the air. And nothing — no amount of blazing fire, or chatting on ordinary subjects — could make that camp exactly as it had been before. The shadow of an unknown horror, naked if unguessed, that had flashed for an instant in the face and gestures of the guide, had also communicated itself, vaguely and therefore more potently, to his companion.

catching his breath. He felt as if his spine had suddenly become hollow and someone had filled it with particles of ice.

And it was in that moment of distress and confusion that the whip of terror laid its most nicely calculated lash about his heart.

Welcome To My Nightmare!

They were blown off my feet when the South Tower collapsed

Do you hear the music, Mum?" "No, sweetheart. No, I don't hear it." She shook her head. Terror and tears filled her eyes. The wind felt cold, washing over me. "Neither do I.