Quotes About Dread

This mammoth picaresque novel1 quickly dispels our haunting dread that it might be just another attempt (we've seen plenty) to fatten up a basic skeleton of a premise by packing on the flab of fungible soap-operatic blubber, connecting the microdots with a mile-wide magic marker.

Fear is the vigilance and the need to escape from something real. Anxiety is about dread and foreboding and your imagination running away with you. Much as with depression, anxiety is rooted in a cognitive distortion. In this case, people prone toward anxiety overestimate risks and the likelihood of a bad outcome.

But Gilbert's visits were not what they once were. Anne almost dreaded them. It was very disconcerting to look up in the midst of a sudden silence and find Gilbert's hazel eyes fixed upon her with a quite unmistakable expression in their grave depths; and it was still more disconcerting to find herself blushing hotly and uncomfortably under his gaze, just as if—just as if—well, it was very embarrassing.

Almost all the evil in the world has its origin in the fact that some one is afraid of something.

Fear is the original sin, wrote John Foster. Almost all the evil in the world has its origin in the fact that some one is afraid of something.

At least it removed her dread of being laughed at, though the deeper hurt of an outraged ideal remained.

Now speech had left her; fear took its place.

Fear is the brother of hate. One

Mary was too scared to move. Laura was too scared to stand still.

But there is the loneliness. The aloneness. How I startle awake in the dark, panicked, full of dread, floating on the night sea on a tiny raft surrounded by all that vast blackness. I see myself from above. The light from the moon guides me nowhere. I'm connected to nothing and no one, lost

Tell me this is a nightmare

If anyone could look into my head See or feel the dread that has captured Me or see within this sad, unhappy brain They would only turn away Turn away.

Love Love can accommodate all sorts of misshapen objects: a door held open for a city dog who runs into the woods; fences down; some role you didn't ask for, didn't want. Love allows for betrayal and loss and dread. Love is roomy. Love can change its shape, be known by different names. Love is elastic. And the dog comes back.

Wonderful news, a lovely day, but I don't trust good news and I don't like good weather. Dread has been my faithful companion, and without it I am alone.

If I am killed, I can die but once; but to live in constant dread of it, is to die over and over again.

If I am killed I can die but once. But to live in constant dread is to die over and over again.

foresight of our own dissolution is so terrible to us, and that the idea of those circumstances, which undoubtedly can give us no pain when we are dead, makes us miserable while we are alive. And from thence arises one of the most important principles in human nature, the dread of death, the great poison to the happiness, but the great restraint upon the injustice of mankind, which, while it afflicts and mortifies the individual, guards and protects the society.

Look at him, look how he drips unhealth—shudder object!

There was the same old dread, and there was the same old hope

wondering at what point rational fear of contagion turned to unreasoning dread

I got a bad feeling about this." —

But too often we dread being stuck. Especially our students and young people. We believe that if we are stuck we have failed. On the contrary, we should welcome getting stuck. We should embrace getting stuck. That's when discovery begins.

I imagine that existential dread probably ought to get a devil. A devil of post-colonial angst. A devil of complicated grief.

Sleep was not a friend these days. It was just the waiting period between nightmares.