Quotes About Fear

I'm afraid it won't stop, and all my bones will disappear and one day I'll just dissolve. I won't be able to stand up anymore, or move." She looked into Clara's eyes. Clung to Clara's eyes. "Mostly I'm afraid that it won't matter. Because I have nowhere to go, and nothing to do. No need of bones.

You don't want to go into your head alone, mon petit. It's a very scary place.

I've never had anyone say they love me before. Libby lobes me, that is true, but there is something a bit menacing about the way she says it.

They were looking really scared. They had probably seen her knees

down quickly. I hope he didn't see me because I had an

The beginning of genius is being scared shitless.

Philosophizing is simply one way of being afraid, a cowardly pretense that doesn't get you anywhere.

On previous trips the pirates have stolen valuables, killed people, raped and abducted girls...the women work frantically to ugly themselves up by smearing black charcoal paste on their faces and bodies. With ashen faces, some of the younger, prettier girls reach into the bags we have vomited into and scoop out handfuls of it to smear on their hair and clothes.

Slowly but inexorably crawling upon my consciousness and rising above every other impression, came a dizzying fear of the unknown; a fear all the greater because I could not analyse it, and seeming to concern a stealthily approaching menace; not death, but some nameless, unheard-of thing inexpressibly more ghastly and abhorrent.

Custom had dinned into his ears a superstitious reverence for that which tangibly and physically exists, and had made him secretly ashamed to dwell in visions.

There are horrors beyond life's edge that we do not suspect, and once in a while man's evil prying calls them just within our range.

No amount of rationalisation, reform, or Freudian analysis can quite annul the thrill of the chimney-corner whisper or the lonely wood.

All I want is to know things. The black gulph of the infinite is before me ...

Children will always be afraid of the dark, and men with minds sensitive to hereditary impulse will always tremble at the thought of the hidden and fathomless worlds of strange life which may pulsate in the gulfs beyond the stars, or press hideously upon our own globe in unholy dimensions which only the dead and the moonstruck can glimpse.

It is in dreams that I have known the real clutch of stark, hideous, maddening, paralysing fear. My infant nightmares were classics, & in them there is not an abyss of agonising cosmic horror that I have not explored. I don't have such dreams now--but the memory of them will never leave me. It is undoubtedly from them that the darkest & most gruesome side of my fictional imagination is derived.

Fear. It was happening all over again. That sickly helpless feeling that spread with its icy fingers, slowly eating up all faith and hope.

In my opinion the hectic and almost frantic pace of modern living is a clear sign of the fear we have of being and of life. And as long as this fear exists in a person's unconscious, he will run faster and do more so as not to feel his fear.

Not to fear a person with power--to profess, instead, one's love--is to deny that that person has power.

Fear is another emotion that is strongly suppressed. We cannot afford to be afraid, and so we don't allow ourselves to sense and feel the fear within us. We lower our brows to deny it, set our jaws to defy it, and smile to deceive ourselves. But inwardly we remain scared to death.

Death is the fate no one can escape. The question, then, is, How does one die? A person can die like a hero or like a coward. The difference is that the hero can face death without fear, whereas the coward can't.

The longbow would still have been used in the Napoleonic Wars if the raw mathematics of killing effectiveness was all that mattered, since both the longbow's firing rate and its accuracy were much greater than that of a smoothbore musket. But a frightened man, thinking with his midbrain and going "ploink, ploink, ploink" with a bow, doesn't stand a chance against an equally frightened man going "BANG! BANG!" with a musket.

Love is the easiest thing there is. It's the layers of doubt, fear, and expectation that make it complicated.

If you have the least doubt about it, do not marry.

Unable to bring himself to believe in a God who offers salvation, the philosopher is above all one who believes that by understanding the world, by understanding ourselves and others as far our intelligence permits, we shall succeed in overcoming fear, through clear-sightedness rather than blind faith.