Quotes About Fear

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Of all the wonders that I have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. (Act II, Scene 2)

Life... is a paradise to what we fear of death.

As I love the name of honour more than I fear death.

Up and down, up and down I will lead them up and down I am feared in field in town Goblin, lead them up and down

If we should fail? Lady Macbeth: We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?

To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if tou art mov'd, thou runst away. (To be angry is to move, to be brave is to stand still. Therefore, if you're angry, you'll run away.)

He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list!

Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house: 'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!

I have supped full with horrors.

Despair and die. The ghosts

Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.

Danger knows full well that Caesar is more dangerous than he. We are two lions litter'd in one day, and I the elder and more terrible.

So many horrid Ghosts.

Alas, poor country, almost afraid to know itself! It cannot be called our mother, but our grave.

Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' Like the poor cat i' the adage?

Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct.

Poor and content is rich, and rich enough; But riches fineless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor;– Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy!

I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in't: I have supt full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.

Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.