Quotes About Fear

As a child, I was more afraid of tetanus shots than, for example, Dracula.

He had dark, deepset, piercingly black eyes, overshadowed by eyebrows so bushy that he had to brush them away to see through the glass. But his most prominent feature was the thick growth of hair on his upper lip, long and black, lovingly maintained, measuring nearly a foot between its waxed and pointed tips. It was this feature that gave him his name, the most feared name on the sea: Black Stache.

Too violent, you say? Shut up or I'll break your legs.

It was not knowing that was the seed of madness, loneliness, suspicion, fear.

Don't you think if someone like me, someone who invented most of this shit, is scared, don't you think you should be scared, too?

If a boy became sick he walked alone; the others were afraid to catch what he had, and did not want to know him too well for he would surely die soon. We did not want his voice in our heads.

Nicaragua sounded dangerous; she liked the word. Nicaragua! It sounded like some kind of spider. There it goes, under the table - Nicaragua!

God who protects my people I call upon you to send away the murahaleen. Protect me God protect my family as they run. Oh God of the sky, keep me safe tonight. Keep me hidden, keep me quiet. Oh God of rain, let me find water. Let me not die of thirst. Oh God of the soul, why are you doing this? I have done nothing to ask for this. I'm a boy. I'm a boy. Would you send this to a lamb? You have no right.

I fear that even if it is beautiful in the abstract, that my doing it knowing that it's beautiful and worse, knowing that I will very soon be documenting it, that in my pocket is a tape recorder brought for just that purpose—that all this makes this act of potential beauty somehow gruesome. I am a monster.

We were entwined so tightly that I was afraid to breathe, lest she move at all.

People worried about our passing over into some robotic state, but we were so much like robots already, programmed and easy to manipulate.

In the forest, we boys were food.

something about how all this could or would lead to totalitarianism. Her stomach sank.

For years I feared the opening of every elevator, half-convinced that from the opened doors would come a bullet, for me, shot by a man in a tan trenchcoat. I have no idea why I feared this, expected it to happen. I even knew how I would react to this bullet coming from the elevator door, what word I would say. That word was: Finally.

You wouldn't believe what people will believe once they know our story. They're ready for anything, basically—will believe anything, because they've been thrown off-balance, are still wondering if any of this is true, our story in general, but aren't sure and are terrified of offending us.

You don't know what it's like to be a man over thirty who's never had anything happen to him. You spend so many years trying to stay safe, stay alive, to avoid some unknown horror. Then you realize the horror is existence itself. The nothing-happening.

Now create in your mind the best of days, and memorize these details, place this day center in your mind, and when you are the most frightened, bring forth this day and place yourself within it.

I thought we were all the same but as I was inside my dead body and looking into the murky river bottom I knew that some are wanting to run and some are afraid to run and maybe they are broken and are angry for it.

It was like setting up a guillotine in the public square.You don't expect a thousand people to line up to put their heads in it.

Nothing in the world sounds worst than that, to be here and safe.

The feeling that your daughter is a deviant already and will only get worse. In a flash, you can see her as a feral adolescent, as a dirty-bomb teenager, a burst of invisible and spreading fury. Where is she now? She's fled, not to her room but somewhere else, a closet, she always hides somewhere disturbing, a place befitting a German fairy tale. Believe

It was also a good time to figure out this relationship with Tyler. We'd been going out for eight months by now, but our feelings were nomadic, too, hard to pin down. Or at least hard to talk about. We were very similar. We were wary of commitment. We ached for new experiences. We feared routine, conformity, and, most of all, the end of our youth. Of course we didn't say any of this – we didn't know how. We barely knew it ourselves.

And for a good portion of the human race, because something has not already been, that is a good reason to fear it coming to be.

The Modus Operandi When the inquisitors swept into a town an Edict of Faith was issued requiring everyone to reveal any heresy of which they had knowledge. Those who concealed a heretic came under the curse of the Church and the inquisitors' wrath. Informants would approach the inquisitors' lodgings under cover of night and were rewarded for information. No one arrested was ever acquitted.