Quotes About Terror

We live in a time of saints and martyrs. The twentieth century created more victims of war and terror, but it also gave birth to more saints and martyrs than any other century.

The coward's fear of death stems in large part from his incapacity to love anything but his own body. The inability to participate in others' lives stands in the way of his developing any inner resources sufficient to overcome the terror of death. — J. Glenn Gary, The Warriors

I am Death and no one defeats or escapes Death. (Thanatos) You know, I'll bet most people shit their pants in terror when you hand them that line. But you know what, Mr. I-want-to-be-scary-and-am-failing-miserably? I'm not a person. I'm a Dark-Hunter and in the grand scheme of things you don't mean shit to me. Now I can sit here and play with you, but I'd rather just put you out of both our miseries. (Zarek)

Sandman had two personalities. One could turn a female into his angel for the night in a blink, and the other could make a terrorist piss himself.' (Carlos)

I had no night terrors. Maybe when your real life becomes the terror, there's just nothing left to dream about

Terror, terror, terror. Life was a reign o terror in the shadow of the guillotine.

Im massively scared of spiders. Even small ones scare the life out of me.

It is difficult to overstate the impact that this program had on children of the 1940s. This writer vividly remembers an episode when the Shadow tracked down a murdering scarecrow. When the killer's coat was ripped off, revealing nothing but straw, the implications were so terrifying that the young writer-to-be could not sleep in an unlighted room for weeks. Today it's the highest of all high camp, scaring neither the aging collector nor his jaded children.

good lady" was anything but fair. She was middle-aged, overweight and plain in the extreme. But that was no reason why she should be subjected to this sort of terror, Halt thought grimly. She held back, whimpering with fear at the sight of the black figure before her.

There were four of them, so Will had them seriously outnumbered. He gave them one warning, identifying himself as a King's Ranger, but they chose to attack. Within seconds, three of them were on the ground, nursing arrow wounds to arms and legs. The fourth, his eyes wide with terror, tossed his sword away and fell to his knees, begging for mercy.

Although the frightful is, perhaps rightly, conjoined in our minds with the darkly coloured, the harshly dissonant - with bludgeon blows and the odours of decay - the most terrible experiences are often bereft of these properties of melodrama.

War was never glorious, never grand—except in the pronouncements pols and other noncombatants made about it. It was, as he had experienced it, mostly dirty, disorderly, boring, lonely, and, for brief intervals, terrifying.

Terror, on its surface, cuts hard and sharp as a knife, but at its heart, it swells and rolls like a sea. It isn't fixed into permanent shapes or symbols or even shadows. It's liquid, and we ingest it, and it ingests us.

As looking down from great heights brings the urge to fall and end the terror of falling, so his very watching put pressure on them to make a slip as they dried and stacked the plates and cups.

Against Terror to be over. Osama bin Laden had been

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don't let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness. Give me your hand.

It happened; it is part of who we are; it is our beauty and our terror. We must be gleaners from what life has set before us.

If you cannot bear it, there's always the knife. Suicide, and back into Satan's hands. He wished he didn't know the shiver that crept up his neck was desire and not terror. Back into his hands whenever he wants you. And you cannot pretend you did it for Will.

If a military life was long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of stark terror—as one of her instructors had said—then civilian life seemed to be long periods of boredom interrupted by moments of dismal reflection.

Grief is such a—oh, it is such a solitary thing; this is the terror of it, I think. It is like sliding down the outside of a really long glass building while nobody sees you.

This must be the way most of us maneuver in the world, half knowing, half not, visited by memories that can't possibly be true. But when I see others walking with confidence down the street, as though they are free completely from terror, I realize I don't know how others are. So much of life seems speculation.

This must be the way most of us maneuver through the world, half knowing, half not, visited by memories that can't possibly be true. But when I see others walking with confidence down the sidewalk, as though they are free completely from terror, I realize I don't know how others are. So much of life seems speculation.

They had never kissed, nor even touched, only passed by each other closely as they went into his office, a tiny cubicle off the library - they avoided the teachers' room. But after he said that that day, she lived with a kind of terror, and a longing that felt at times unendurable. But people endure things.

This must be the way most of us maneuver through the world, half knowing, half not, visited by memories that can't possibly be true. But when I see others walking with confidence down the sidewalk, as though they are free completely from terror, I realize I don't know how others are.