Quotes About Anxiety

Strange. Half my years afraid of life. The other half, afraid of death. Always some kind of afraid.

I'm so scared i could sprinkle dust.

The nightmare of living was begun.

Siempre había una minoría que tenía miedo de algo, y una gran mayoría que tenía miedo de la oscuridad, miedo del futuro, miedo del presente, miedo de ellos mismo y de las sombras de ellos mismos.

No necesitamos estar tranquilos. A veces debemos preocuparnos. ¿Desde cuándo no estás realmente preocupada? Preocupada por algo importante, algo verdadero.

And the trip? Exactly one half terror, exactly one half exhilaration.

Mildred had already anticipated this in a quavery voice.

The speedometer read 110. My stomach was stone like the stone walls rushing left and right. Up over a hill, down into a valley. "Can't we go a bit faster?" I asked, hoping for the opposite. "Done!" said Finn, and made it 120. "That will do it nicely," I said, in a faint voice, wondering what lay ahead.

there was always a minority afraid of something, and a great majority afraid of the dark, afraid of the future, afraid of the past, afraid of the present, afraid of themselves and shadows of themselves.

He realized that all men were like this; that each person was to himself one alone. One oneness, a unit in a society, but always afraid. Like here, standing. If he should scream, if he should holler for help, would it matter?

Madness alone is truly terrifying, inasmuch as you cannot placate it by threats, persuasion, or bribes.

For a time I would feel I belonged still to a world of straightforward facts; but the feeling would not last long. Something would turn up to scare it away.

She feared the unknown as we all do, and her ignorance made the unknown infinitely vast.

And after all, one does not die of it. Die of what? I asked swiftly. Of being afraid.

It was like a weary pilgrimage amongst hints for nightmares.

The typhoon had got on Jukes' nerves

Perhaps life is just that...a dream and a fear.

I was anxious to deal with this shadow by myself alone -- and to this day I don't know why I was so jealous of sharing with any one the peculiar blackness of that experience.

The only secret of her life was her abject terror of the time when her husband would come home to stay for good.

Mr Verloc felt the latent unfriendliness of all out of doors with a force approaching to positive bodily anguish.

Sympathy is a form of fear, above the vulgar conception of time.

Imagination, the enemy of men, the father of all terrors.

The horror, the horror.

This fear is what is the ruin of us all. And some dominate us; they take advantage of our fear and frighten us still more. Mark this: as long as people are afraid, they will rot like the birches in the marsh.