Best 548 quotes in «scared quotes» category

I learned that some fears are legitimate. We are scared when we can’t do something. Courage shouldn’t push us to do what we are not skilled at. That’s the gift of fear. It saves us from dying.

I lived in a really dark place. I wasn't safe in my own mind. I woke up every morning hoping to die and then spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe I was already dead because I couldn't even tell the difference.

I loved you with different words than you knew and that seemed to scare you.

I’m getting my stuff,” he said, and bolted for the steps. “You don’t have to move out,” Astrid called after him. Sam stopped halfway up the steps. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that the voice of the council telling me where I can go?” “There’s no point having a town council if you think you don’t have to listen to it,” Astrid said. She was using her patient voice, trying to calm the situation. “Sam, if you ignore us, no one will pay attention.” “Guess what, Astrid, they’re already ignoring you. The only reason anyone pays any attention to you and the others is because they’re scared of Edilio’s soldiers.” He thumped his chest. “And even more scared of me.

I'm not much of a challenge here in the dark.

I'm not saying I was scared. Okay, I was scared. He had an MP5. I had a Nikon.

I'm scared David" "That's good, because there's lots to be afraid of

I'm trapped behind a wall of fear and fear itself.

It is not what we know that scares us, it is what we do not

In the jumbled, fragmented memories I carry from my childhood there are probably nearly as many dreams as images from waking life. I thought of one which might have been my earliest remembered nightmare. I was probably about four years old - I don't think I'd started school yet - when I woke up screaming. The image I retained of the dream, the thing which had frightened me so, was an ugly, clown-like doll made of soft red and cream-coloured rubber. When you squeezed it, bulbous eyes popped out on stalks and the mouth opened in a gaping scream. As I recall it now, it was disturbingly ugly, not really an appropriate toy for a very young child, but it had been mine when I was younger, at least until I'd bitten its nose off, at which point it had been taken away from me. At the time when I had the dream I hadn't seen it for a year or more - I don't think I consciously remembered it until its sudden looming appearance in a dream had frightened me awake. When I told my mother about the dream, she was puzzled. 'But what's scary about that? You were never scared of that doll.' I shook my head, meaning that the doll I'd owned - and barely remembered - had never scared me. 'But it was very scary,' I said, meaning that the reappearance of it in my dream had been terrifying. My mother looked at me, baffled. 'But it's not scary,' she said gently. I'm sure she was trying to make me feel better, and thought this reasonable statement would help. She was absolutely amazed when it had the opposite result, and I burst into tears. Of course she had no idea why, and of course I couldn't explain. Now I think - and of course I could be wrong - that what upset me was that I'd just realized that my mother and I were separate people. We didn't share the same dreams or nightmares. I was alone in the universe, like everybody else. In some confused way, that was what the doll had been telling me. Once it had loved me enough to let me eat its nose; now it would make me wake up screaming. ("My Death")

I over analyze situations because Im scared of what may happen if I'm not prepared for it.

I thought that if I owned nothing, had nothing, was nothing, I would have nothing left to lose, and I wouldn't be scared anymore. Because my whole life I’ve been so damn scared. Scared to live because I was scared to die. But at the same I was so scared of living, so I wanted to die. Or maybe so scared of dying that I refused to live. You don't have to be afraid to fall, when you're already on the ground. You don't have to be scared to lose someone, when there's no one around to lose.

I need a Kleenex.” She sniffs. Guy disengages his hands from hers, takes the hem of his sweatshirt, and wipes her nose with it. “That’s romantic,” she says, embarrassed. “Well, it is sort of, because I wouldn’t do it for anybody else in the world.

It is only when you understand the extent to which you have been traumatized—even if outside of your awareness—that you can effectively prepare for and, yes, welcome the demise of empire and its ghastly assaults on your soul and the earth community.

I try not to look obvious as I wait for Mom’s answer. I feel as if I am on the edge of a knife, my feet being sliced by the blade, teetering toward one side or the other. “Oh, of course!” Mom exclaims, her voice trilling with laughter. “How could I have forgotten?” And now I know. Really know. This woman is not my mother. I don’t know who she is, but I know absolutely who she is not.

It’s okay to be crazy and scared and brave at the same time!

It was the way she looked at me the whole time. That look said more than she ever could and, in turn, scared me more than her words alone ever could.

It was quite a sad thing, the way I watched you sleep like nothing could go wrong and I did not want to harm it, I did not want to blur it, but how could I not when everything I’ve ever known has slowly gone away.

It’s said that if you can hear a bomb whistle, then you’re safe. It’s the bomb you don’t hear that rips the roof from your building, pulverizes the walls, and buries you alive in a heap of smoldering slag. Still, the whistling builds up inside you like a scream. You can’t help but hold your breath.

It was Peter’s island, Peter who’d brought us here, and in the back of every boy’s mind was some form of the same thought— He could send me back, if he wanted.

I've been scared plenty of times. What I've never been is fearless. If you can run into a battle unafraid, you're not courageous, you're just a dumbass. It's knowing the price you're going to pay and being willing to pay it anyway that makes you brave.

I've never been scared of the dark, but I'm still terrified of what's in it.

I’ve been trying to stay real and true and proud of who I am, all those ideals of how to look I’ve been trying not to care. But I’m still holding my breath, I ‘m still watching every step. I’m still tip-toeing away, when I’m getting to ashamed of myself. I don’t want to be your letdown, I’m scared like hell I’m not enough. I don’t wanna be your failure anymore. — The Glass Child, Letdown

I was eight years old and scared, and had no idea what was going on

I was never able to accept anyone else’s support but my own –

I want to tell him that I don't know what i feel. I want him but i'm frightened to want him. I don;t want my happiness to be entirely dependent on somebody else's to be a hostage to fortunes I cannot control.

I was never afraid of the dark and I spent my youth walking through empty playgrounds at midnight, worried mothers telling girls to be careful and ”the world is an ugly place and not everyone wants you well”. But I was not afraid and I wished for adrenaline to make my veins pulsate in that way that puts them more on the outside of my skin than inside. After the first night with you I never walked alone at night again because suddenly I had something to lose. Something to save.

I was really happy because the doctor had said I would be better by then, and I was ready for this terrible nightmare to be over.

I was scared...and did not know what was coming for me next.

I was stressed and scared and I had to hurry to be someone, become something, do something. I was running and talking and cursed myself when I wasted my time on things that wouldn’t get me anywhere. It was work and it was money and I was never where I was, always somewhere else in my head far, far away.

Low ceiling, stone walls, a dirt floor stamped with paw prints. I never go in without announcing myself. 'Hyaa!' I yell. 'Hyaa. Hyaa!' It's the sound my father makes when entering his toolshed, the cry of cowboys as they round up dogies, and it suggests a certain degree of authority. Snakes, bats, weasels --it's time to head up and move on out.

Little boys can be very silly," Anastasia agreed. Her quiet hand stroked Lexi's head, untangling her hair. "But you know what, agapi mou? You shouldn't be scared. I think he's more afraid of you than you are of him." Lexi could feel her mother smiling. She liked her mother's smile. It took up her entire face, radiating from her lips to her dimples to the crinkles around her eyes. "He's new here, and I think he is a very lonely little boy. Do you know why he is mean? He doesn't know how to be nice.

Love might be frightening, at times, and some are scared of becoming infatuated. Therefore, they may rather choose to chicken out, while walking on thin ice, poise and guts are letting them down. (“Amour en friche”)

I wonder if your mother was frightened by Peter Pan before you were born?

Losing someone doesn’t scare me. Death doesn’t scare me. What scares me is the inability to no longer feel the touch of the one you love.

Love. The word scared me. Love. The word broke me. I fell apart.

Malinda moved so we were eye-level. "Forget the people who've hurt you. You don't have them anymore, but you have two others that'll do anything to you. Mason and Logan would move mountains for you. I see how you are with them. You love them, but you're scared to let yourself be happy. Why? Because that's when they'll leave? Is that what you think? You've got it all wrong. Those two will never leave you." She tapped my chest. Once. Twice. "You. You're the one that's going to hurt them. You have that power, and you don't know it. You could rip those two apart in a second, and they're the ones who are scared of you. Not the other way around. You need to recognize the real situation.

My jeans remain unsoiled. My heebies are jeebie-less. There are no willies up me.

Mom said it’s too violent for me. I would argue, but after being terrified by a SpongeBob balloon, I’m pretty sure she’s right.

Mrs. Lot was a sandwich-generation woman, not sure what life might hold for her-scared of going forward, frightened of going back.

...my father, [was] a mid-level phonecompany manager who treated my mother at best like an incompetent employee. At worst? He never beat her, but his pure, inarticulate fury would fill the house for days, weeks, at a time, making the air humid, hard to breathe, my father stalking around with his lower jaw jutting out, giving him the look of a wounded, vengeful boxer, grinding his teeth so loud you could hear it across the room ... I'm sure he told himself: 'I never hit her'. I'm sure because of this technicality he never saw himself as an abuser. But he turned our family life into an endless road trip with bad directions and a rage-clenched driver, a vacation that never got a chance to be fun.

Modesty is fear.

Most people are not really scared of death. They are merely terrified of being taken to a mortuary and/or being buried or cremated and/or being forgotten.

My body is no longer mine. My soul dormant. I am once again, possessed. www.thethreeimmortalblades.com

My mom told me that I should not be scared or too cautious," concludes Dimples. "Just do it if you have the guts. If it is correct, it will work.

Not interested in scarin’ anybody, but people with good sense are afraid of a man with nothin’ to lose.

Nobody looks like what they really are on the inside. You don’t. I don’t. People are much more complicated than that. It’s true of everybody.' I said, 'Are you a monster? Like Ursula Monkton?' Lettie threw a pebble into the pond. 'I don't think so,' she said. 'Monsters come in all shapes and sizes, Some of them are things people are scared of. Some of them are things that look like things people used to be scared of a long time ago. Sometimes monsters are things people should be scared of, but they aren't.' I said, 'People should be scared of Ursula Monkton.' 'P'raps. What do you think Ursula Monkton is scared of?' 'Dunno. Why do you think she's scared of anything? She's a grown-up, isn't she? Grown-ups and monsters aren't scared of things.' Oh, monsters are scared," said Lettie. "That's why they're monsters. And as for grown-ups...' She stopped talking, rubbed her freckled nose with a finger. Then, 'I'm going to tell you something important. Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. Truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.

Okay, okay. I can do this, I can do this just breathe. Mentally I prepared myself but it didn't help with the feeling of jumping off a cliff deep in my belly.

Oh, please stop,” I said, moving to sit down beside her on the bed. “No. Nothing like that. It’s… it’s letting someone that close to me. Physically and emotionally. Randy and I got close a few times, but… I chickened out. I’m afraid of letting someone have that kind of power over me. Not being in control is what scares me.

Now you bitches can stand here quaking in your boots about what your women might do to you. I’m going to get my woman.