Quotes About Fear

Long ago when they first invented the atomic bomb people used to worry about its going off and killing everybody, but they didn't know that mankind has enough dynamite right in his guts to tear the fucking plant to pieces.

Lover of swampsThe quagmire overgrownWith hassock tufts of sedge—where fear encampsAround thy home aloneThe trembling grassQuakes from the human footNor bears the weight of man to let him passWhere he alone and muteSitteth at rest

Nothing will stop you being creative more effectively as the fear of making a mistake.

Technology frightens me to death. It's designed by engineers to impress other engineers. And they always come with instruction booklets that are written by engineers for other engineers — which is why almost no technology ever works.

I noticed years ago that when people (myself definitely included) are anxious they tend to busy themselves with irrelevant activities, because these distract from and therefore reduce their actual experience of anxiety. To stay perfectly still is to feel the fear at its maximum intensity, so instead you scuttle around doing things as though you are, in some mysterious way, short of time.

While leaning over the toilet getting up his nerve, he thought that the moment before making yourself throw up must be very like the instant before suicide. You are almost content to bear the sickening headache and the torment in your stomach rather than go through that moment. But the prospect of relief made you foolhardy and you jammed your finger down your throat.

I feel that I only began to live a year ago, for then I feared I was to die, but I think it is beyond that. I am no longer content merely to be alive—no, not when there is living to be had.

But there were some who went with her willingly, for there are other women who dream of lying with wolves.

Sometimes, I think that I concerned myself so much with the possibility of their loss that I never truly took pleasure in the fact of their existence.

On more than one occasion David, in his urge to explore the darker corners of the bookshelves, had found himself wearing strands of spider silk in his face and hair, causing the web's creator to scuttle into a corner and crouch balefully, lost in thoughts of arachnoid revenge.

Samuel didn't move. 'What will you do if I climb off the bed?' 'Well I can eat you, or I can drag you down to the depths of Hell, never to seen or heard from again. Depends, really.' 'On what?' 'Lost of things: hygiene, for a start. After tasting that sock, I don't fancy eating any part of you, to be honest, so it'll have to be the depths of Hell for you, I'm afraid.

David tried to give a form to the beast at the heart of the poem but found that he could not. It was more difficult than it appeared, for nothing quite seemed to fit. Instead, he could only conjure up a half-formed being that crouched in the cobwebbed corners of his imagination where all the things that he feared curled and slithered upon one another in the darkness.

The door, when I tried it, was locked, but a locked door is more the promise of security than security itself.

He became merely the broken statue of a beast, now without another's fear to animate it.

It is one thing to be brave in front of others, perhaps for fear of being branded a coward and becoming diminished in their eyes, but another entirely to be brave when there is nobody to witness your courage. The latter is an elemental bravery, a strength of spirit and character.

V-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y, David explained that without slates on the roof, the rain would get in. In their way, they were just as important as walls. Dr. Moberley asked David if he was afraid of the rain getting in. David told him that he didn't like getting wet. It wasn't so bad outside, especially if you were dressed for it, but most people didn't dress for rain indoors.

But I feared more the death of others. I did not want to lose them, I worried about them while they were alive. Sometimes I think I concerned myself so much with the possibility of their loss that I never truly took pleasure in the fact of their existence.

As for dying, he didn't believe that he was frightened of it: the manner of it, perhaps, but not the fact of it. After all, he had reached an age where dying had started to become an objective reality instead of an abstract concept.

Wickedness never rests easily so, in a way, one might almost feel pity for the wicked, for they are destined to live their lives in fear, in a prison of the heart.

aside. "How long will it take?" He was scared, and he wasn't pretending. "Not long," I said. "Not long at all." You

First the girl, then the detective, now the wolf. The town was starting to unravel.

Mrs. Abernathy frightened him, the way strong women will often frighten weak men.

It is one thing to be brave in front of others, perhaps for fear of being branded a coward and becoming diminished in their eyes, but another entirely to be brave when there is nobody to witness your courage. The latter is an elemental bravery, a strength of spirit and character. It is a revelation of the essence of the self

She had not given me the cross to keep the bad men away, as a child might have been expected to do. No, in her mind the bad men could not be kept away. They were coming, and they would have to be faced.