Quotes About Fear

Happy. And then I got afraid that it would vanish as quickly as it came. That it was accidental-- that I didn't deserve it. It's like this very, very nice car crash that never ends.

Time, Baby - so much, so much time left until the end of my life - sometimes I go crazy at how slowly time passes yet how quickly my body ages. But I shouldn't allow myself to think like this. I have to remind myself that time only frightens me when I think of having to spend it alone. Sometimes I scare myself with how many of my thoughts revolve around making me feel better about sleeping alone in a room.

Sometimes you accidentally input an extra digit into the year: i.e, 19993 and you add 18,000 years on to *now*, and you realize that the year 19993 will one day exist and that time is a scary thing, indeed.

At least there's nothing scary about him and hopefully he doesn't see anything scary in me. We go way back, to summer camp. We KNOW each other. People I don't know just make me want to say YIKES! I'll take history over mystery any day of the week.

As you grow older, it becomes harder to feel 100 percent happy; you learn all the things that can go wrong, you become superstitious about tempting fate, about bringing disaster upon your life by accidentally feeling too good one day.

When I was younger I used to worry so much about being alone—of being unlovable or incapable of love. As the years went on, my worries changed. I worried that I had become incapable of having a relationship, of offering intimacy. I felt as though the world lived inside a warm house at night and I was outside, and I couldn't be seen—because I was out there in the night. But now I am inside that house and it feels just the same.

We then return our gaze to the mirror-boxed future-towns circling us-the hard drives of our culture, where the human tribe is making flesh its deepest needs and fears; teaching machines to think; accelerating the pace of obsolescence; designing new animals to replace the animals we've erased; value adding; reconstructing the future.

The store is also lit to the point of painfulness by a ceiling loaded with more fluorescent bulbs than a landing mothership. Shielding my headachey eyes, I make my consumer choices, then head to the counter, where the clerk is wearing sunglasses. I pay the clerk with a five-dollar bill on which I have felt-penned the words: I AM AFRAID OF THE DARK AGES.

It had been drilled into us that to feel fear is to not fully trust God. Whoever made that up has never been beneath a cafeteria table with a tiny thread of someone else's blood trickling onto their leg.

Dac? am fi avut convingeri, oare am fi avut m?car curajul s? le urm?m?

Sometimes it takes courage—maybe all the courage you've got—to just live life.

I have not felt her presence, as I had always believed I should if she should predecease me. Where is she? I am afraid for her, and for myself.

sometimes not knowing can be a lot worse than knowing—even if knowing proves to be very painful.

The third board popped off. The opening was now big enough to squeeze through. The dogs in town were barking hysterically.

the shudder of fear is as sensual as the shudder of pleasure, if not more so.

Stephen King novel

Fire is often the weapon of choice for the insane.

They had camped on a sandbar and built a fire. Bruce cut the meat into strips, but as he laid it on hot stones to cook, he "heard a loud screaming growl." He grabbed his M16 and turned just in time to see an animal charging them; he had the weapon on full-auto and sprayed it with "at least twenty rounds"; it dropped five feet from him: a huge, seven-foot jaguar.

The whole city was on the verge of panic.

They use the label "anthropomorphization" as a cover, because they're scared that maybe we're all just animals after all!

He said he had been converted to atheism at the age of six, when his Sunday school teacher had described with relish the eternal fires of Hell.

So, after half a million, what did the chimps say?" Well, not much, when you really analyze it. That wasn't the point, for God's sake! And the scientists who supported us were afraid to object. They didn't want to attract Proxmire's attention. Cowards, every one.

Finally, a woman who has experienced her own mother as a destructive force--however justified or unjustified the charge--may dread the possibility that in becoming a mother she too will become somehow destructive. The mother of the laboring woman is, in any case, for better or worse, living or dead, a powerful ghost in the birth-chamber.

A thinking woman sleeps with monsters that beak which grips her, she becomes.