Quotes About Fear

It is tomorrow that fills men with dread. God is there already. All the tomorrows of our life have to pass Him before they can get to us. F. B. M.

Then into His hand went mine, And into my heart came He; And I walk in a light Divine, The path I had feared to see. George MacDonald

That's what death did, it treated you like a child, like everything you had ever thought and done and cared about was just a child's game, to be crumpled up and thrown away when it was over. It didn't matter. Death didn't respect you. Death thought you were bullshit, and it wanted to make sure you knew it.

Never risking anything meant never having or doing or being anything either. Life is risk, it turned out.

Quentin was thin and tall, though he habitually hunched his shoulders in a vain attempt to brace himself against whatever blow was coming from the heavens, and which would logically hit the tall people first.

But the thing about monsters was, you couldn't talk to them about it, because they wouldn't admit they were monsters in the first place.

Sure, you can live out your dreams, but it'll only turn you into a monster.

It was strange to be naked in front of anybody. It was like that cold water out there in the bay: scary, you didn't think you could stand it, but then you plunged in and pretty soon you got used to it. There was enough hiding in life. Sometimes you just wanted to show somebody your tits.

Never risking anything meant never having or doing or being anything either.

infinite corridor of panic that led nowhere.

he habitually hunched his shoulders in a vain attempt to brace himself against whatever blow was coming from the heavens, and which would logically hit the tall people first.

There were things he'd been scared to face his whole life, and now that he was looking them in the eye they weren't quite as scary as he first thought.

You only had to see a unicorn lay open the side of a centaur once, the ribcage flashing white when the ripped skin flopped down, to swear a mighty oath never to fuck with or even look at another unicorn again. I'm putting down the hearts and fluffy clouds and backing away slowly. Don't want any trouble here. You can have all the rainbows.

You just had to get some idea of what matters and what doesn't, and how much, and try not to be scared of the stuff that doesn't. Put it in perspective. Something like that. Or otherwise what was the point?

Sure, you can live out your dreams, but it'll only turn you into a monster. Better to stay home and do card tricks in your bedroom instead.

You just had to get some idea of what matters and what doesn't, and how much, and try not to be scared of the stuff that doesn't. Put it in perspective. Something like that.

The centaurs regarded Quentin with pity nicely tempered by a near-total lack of interest. Also, they seemed to be constantly afraid that he was going to tip over. None

When he was younger it seemed like the only time he wasn't afraid was when he was angry. He'd been so full of fear and self-doubt that the only way he could think of to be strong was to attack the world around him.

You just had to get some idea of what matters and what doesn't, and how much, and try not to be scared of the stuff that doesn't.

When he was younger it seemed like the only time he wasn't afraid was when he was angry.

You only had to see a unicorn lay open the side of a centaur once, the ribcage flashing white when the ripped skin flopped down, to swear a mighty oath never to fuck with or even look at another unicorn again. I'm putting down the hearts and fluffy clouds and backing away slowly. Don't want any trouble here. You can have all the rainbows. It

The old Quentin might have done it, but he wasn't a creature of fear anymore, jumping at his own shadow. Never knowing who he was or why. When he was younger, it seemed like the only time he wasn't afraid was when he was angry. He had been so full of fear and self-doubt that the only way to feel strong was to attack the world around him.

His mind was an icy pond constantly in danger of thawing. He trod on it only lightly-its surface was perilously slick and who knew how thin. To break through would mean immersion in what was below: cold, dark anaerobic water and angry, toothy fish. The fish were memories. He wanted to put them away somewhere and forget where he'd put them, but he couldn't.

Death and destruction!" the hare called out as it ran, in case it hadn't made itself clear before. "Disappointment and despair!