Quotes About Fear

Q: Why is 6 scared of 7? A: Because 7 ate 9 and 10.

Q: What's the definition of bravery? A: A man with diarrhea, chancing a fart.

Q: What do you call a witch who lives by the sea but won't go into the water? A: A chicken sandwitch.

Q: Why didn't the chicken cross the road? A: Because he was a chicken.

One of his sayings is, 'When the walls fall down, all we have left is the enemy within.

bearded one cackled and the man in the orange cap said, "Everybody knows what Zapheads are, or else they're dead." "I don't have a gun." The bearded man aimed his weapon at DeVontay. "Then you better get your ass over here, hadn't

When you have one of those waking nightmares, when you think bad things in the dark and can't go to sleep, you think happy thoughts. Cartoon dogs, fat clowns, things like that. Except sometimes the cartoon dogs bite and the fat clowns grow sharp smiles. Happy

before getting shot, he would never nail both of the armed men from thirty yards away. He could also duck into the water and swim downstream, but he didn't think he could hold his breath long enough to get out of range. That was assuming the rapids ahead were even deep enough to conceal him. "What do you want?" DeVontay said, stalling for time.

this was looking like her final hour. They'd not seen a Zaphead for two days, ever since leaving the highway and taking the Old Turnpike Road, a winding dotted line on the map that promised few houses and even fewer murderous mutants. The bite wound on Rachel's left calf had gotten steadily worse, passing from

Like the man who looked for hours under a streetlight for the keys he had dropped in the alley because the light was better there, we waste so much time looking for what we want where it isn't to be found, consumed by "the underlying fear of… being torn away from our chosen image of what or who we are in this world." (Miller)

I typically avoid looking in the mirror for fear I will accidentally intimidate myself.

Cowards die many times before their deaths, da valiant never taste of death but once, eh?" The quote came out of nowhere, so random it made Magnus lower the torch. "I'm shocked. You know Julius Caesar?

In a life where waking hours are draped in the costume of horrid nightmare, where reality has suddenly become questionable, it's easy to be scared by dreams.

Sometimes courage is carried by a roar—sometimes it is hidden within a wavering voice.

I want to leave," she said suddenly. "I want to leave this place. Something bad is going to happen, unless we stop it. We need to call someone.

Parenthood is shit, snot, slime, fear, tears, spit, and spills. It's as intense as combat, which is to say hours of tedium relieved by moments of alarm and flashes of joy to remind you that you're alive. It is intensely practical and profoundly square, even if you're not. It's feeding, wiping, and picking up.

Some social phobics find even positive attention to be aversive. Think of the young child who bursts into tears when guests sing "Happy Birthday" to her at a party—or of Elfriede Jelinek afraid to pick up her Nobel Prize. Social attention—even positive, supportive attention—activates the neurocircuitry of fear. This makes sense from an evolutionary perspective. Calling positive attention to yourself can incite jealousy or generate new rivalries.

panic disorder with agoraphobia (DSM-V code 300.22): the condition, as Hippocrates described it, "usually attacks abroad, if a person is travelling a lonely road somewhere, and fear seizes him.

A panic attack is interesting the way a broken leg or a kidney stone is interesting—a pain that you want to end.

Researchers at the University of Iowa have for years been studying a woman, known in the literature as S.M., whose amygdala was destroyed by a rare disease—and who cannot, as a consequence, experience fear.)

For the social phobic, any kind of performance—musical, sporting, public speaking—can be terrifying because failure will reveal the weakness and inadequacy within. This in turn means constantly projecting an image that feels false—an image of confidence, competence, even perfection.

No wonder I'm anxious: I'm like Woody Allen trapped in John Calvin.

If I seem unduly preoccupied with Darwin's stomach, perhaps you can understand why. It seems both apt and ironic that the man responsible for launching the modern study of fear—and for identifying it as an emotion with concrete physiological, and especially gastrointestinal, effects—was himself so miserably afflicted by a nervous stomach.

If we can't control something, there's no value in fearing it, since the fear accomplishes nothing.)