Quotes About Fear

Because there was only one thing worse than dying. And that was knowing you were going to die. And where. And how. ("Death Ship")

A surfeiting of terror soon made terror a cliché.

Se estrecha el círculo. Un nuevo terror nacido de la muerte, una nueva superstición que invade la fortaleza del tiempo. Soy leyenda.

Yet, despite all, it is a difficult thing to admit the existence of ghosts in a coldly factual world. One's very instincts rebel at the admission of such maddening possibility. For, once the initial step is made into the supernatural, there is no turning back, no knowing where the strange road leads except that it is quite unknown and quite terrible. (Slaughter House)

Why should a Jew fear the cross?" he said. "Why should a vampire who had been a Jew fear it? Most people were afraid of becoming vampires. Most of them suffer from hysterical blindness before mirrors. But as far as the cross goes—well, neither a Jew nor a Hindu nor a Mohammedan nor an atheist, for that matter, would fear the cross." She

It was not my pain but Ann's. She was crying, frightened. Because I was hurt. She was afraid for me. I felt her anguish. She was suffering terribly. I tried to will away the shadows but I couldn't. Tried in vain to speak her name. Don't cry, I thought. I'll be all right. Don't be afraid. I love you, Ann. Where are you?

It was more than a spider. It was every unknown terror in the world fused into wriggling, poison-jawed horror. It was every anxiety, insecurity, and fear in his life given a hideous, night-black form.

The strength of the vampire is that no one will believe in him." Thank you, Dr. Van Helsing, he thought, putting down his copy of Dracula.

All right, little boy, he tried kidding himself, calm down now. Santa Claus is coming to town with all the nice answers. No longer will you be a weird Robinson Crusoe, imprisoned on an island of night surrounded by oceans of death.

He forgot everything, time and place; it was just the two of them together, needing each other, survivors of a black terror embracing because they had found each other.

Why do you want me to stay?" she asked unhappily. He looked at her without a definite answer in his mind. Then he said, "Even if you are infected, I can't let you go out there. You don't know what they'd do to you." Her eyes closed. "I don't care," she said. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN "I don't understand it," he told her over supper.

Non c'è da stupirsi che i bambini sono felici. Per loro la vita è facile. Un po' di fame un po', un po' di freddo, un po' di paura del buio. Tutto qui. Perché affannarsi tanto a crescere? La vita diventa troppo complicata.

Thinking about it, he almost forgot that nightfall was approaching. With a start he looked up and saw Ben Cortman running at him from across the street. "Neville!" He jumped up from the porch and ran into the house, locking and bolting the door behind him with shaking hands.

Jetzt wusste er, dass sie tatsächlich Angst vor ihm hatten, so wie seinesgleichen einst Angst vor ihnen gehabt hatte, den schrecklichen Gestalten der Legende. Für sie war er die Geißel der Menschheit, der neuen Gesellschaft [...] Für sie war er bisher ein unsichtbares Schreckgespenst gewesen, das als grauenvollen Beweis seiner Existenz die blutleeren Leichen derer, die sie liebten, zurückgelassen hatte. [...] Ich bin Legende!

I think What Dreams May Come is the most important (read effective) book I've written. It has caused a number of readers to lose their fear of death the finest tribute any writer could receive. ... Somewhere In Time is my favorite novel.

No one in either system could be unaware that State Security was out there, but for the ordinary citizen, uninterested in politics, lucky enough not to belong to one of the groups stigmatized as enemies, the attitude was as likely to be prudent respect, even approval, rather than a permanent state of fear.

Insecurity will always be a growth industry. The economy now depends on fear.

She sat on her porch those first nights, wrapped in the brackish tidal air. The future's breeze split across her face and joined up again behind her. She felt herself a spinster whose sudden new suitor must be either sadistic, blind, or a confused fortune hunter. She'd read all the cautionary fairy tales and knew the one inevitable outcome. Still, she consented to this courtship, and even decided to court it back.

There is no safety. There is only forgetfulness.

What frightens people most will one day turn to wonder. And then people will do what four billion years have shaped them to do: stop and see just what it is they're seeing.

Maybe they're not scared of different. Maybe they're scared of same. If we turn out to be too much like them, who can they be?

But all of art is childish, all storytelling, all human hope and fear.

Scopophobia hits them all—fear of seeing and being seen. A dog will bite if you stare at it too hard. People will shoot you.

What was acrophobia anyway, if not the half-acknowledged desire to jump?