Quotes About Dread

thakrar (THAH·krahr) noun The precise point on the spectrum of awe at which wonder turns to dread, or dread to wonder.

thakrar noun - The precise point of the spectrum of awe at which wonder turns to dread, or dread to wonder. Archaic; from the estatic priestesses of Thakra, worshippers of the seraphim, whose ritual dance expressed the dualism of beauty and terror.

This was what he did when Thyon Nero was near: He seized up and felt as invisible as the alchemist pretended he was. He was accustomed to cutting silence, and a cool gaze that slid past him as though he didn't exist, so the look came as a shock, and his words, when he spoke, an even greater one. "And you, Strange? Are you here to serve, or to question?" He was cordial, but his blue eyes held a brightness that filled Lazlo with dread.

The sensation of falling was the worst part.

Sometimes we think we know what to fear. We never turn our back on it. Then something else we never thought of comes along. I wonder if what finally caught her in the end was something she feared all that time, or something she never would have thought of.

Well, very splendid and very frightening. But splendid things are often frightening. Sometimes, it's the fright that makes them splendid at all.

Humans do not proceed in an orderly fashion from one scene to the next. Memory lies underneath happenstance; hope and dread sprawl on top. Our days and nights are their endless orgies.

Here! 'Not thread nor glue, not nails nor screws, will ever self and shadow wed.' Helpful, those poet-types. Perhaps this one: 'Seek the grimy queen of dread machines, if you your errant shadow miss.' Now that's quite good! As a Prophetic Utterance, Third Class (Vague Hints and Mysterious Signs), you couldn't ask for better. It's downright plain-spoken!

I am not myself. As you know, better than anyone. You have seen how I am, these last months. I don't know how to explain it, it is beyond any words that I have to describe. But it is as if there is a tempest in my mind, and I cannot see through the murk of it. I cannot think clearly—indeed, much of the time I cannot think at all. There is only a weight in my heart, a formless dread that shapes itself into pain. And then a greater dread of more pain

when every day was tainted by the foul breath of a fear that could not be faced forthrightly, yet could not be ignored.

The brave man, the real hero, quakes with terror, sweats, feels his very bowels betray him, and in spite of this moves forward to do the act he dreads. And yet I do not think

One such emotion that conflicts with dread-risk fear is parental concern. The professor might remind his wife that by making them drive long distances she puts the lives of her children—not just that of her husband—at risk.

You think horror enters spectacularly. It doesn't. It just prosaically turns up. Even in the first seconds you know you'll find it a room.

Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is.

Fear is advance panic of unexpected life.

Liane is feared by those who fear fear, loved by those who love love.

What is fear but courage's shadow?

What is fear, but courage's shadow?

And fear is really the most omnipresent of emotions, isn't it? Fear and panic can be crippling for all concerned.

Men cling to and gratify the flesh as though it were going to last for ever, and though they try to forget the nearness and inevitability of its dissolution, the dread of death and of the loss of all that they cling to clouds their happiest hours, and the chilling shadow of their own selfishness follows them like a remorseless specter.

Every night I woke up in dread, terrified of yet one more insecure tomorrow. I wasn't even brave enough to kill myself. And the truth was only leading me closer to a death agony. The agony that youth was gone, and for the rest of my tomorrows I was finished, crushed by my responsibilities, and the carved out hole of loss inside of me.

One of these days, he said. Everything bad will happen—one of these days.

I returned here because I was afraid to

To be playful is not to be trivial or frivolous, or to act as if nothing of consequence will happen. On the contrary, when we are playful… everything that happens is of consequence, for seriousness is a dread of the unpredictable outcome of open possibility. To be serious is to press for a specified conclusion. To be playful is to allow for unlimited possibility.