Best 6239 quotes in «fear quotes» category

I want the world, I think. Even if it scares me.

I want to break something, or hit something, but I am afraid to move, so I start crying instead.

I was afraid of the dance once, too. But I learned to embrace it and the mistakes I would make. Do not turn away from your fear. Turn toward love instead.

I was afraid, sheer afraid, and wondered at myself. You see, I've no more pluck than any man of my inches but I'd been about a good bit. I'd seen adventure and heard other fellows talk it over, and I knew you're pretty sure to get out of everything with a whole skin till that last particular time that you don't - so what's the use of grizzling? ("Golden Baby")

I WAS AFRAID... afraid of what other people might think or say. I was afraid that they would think I think I'm all that, or the whole 'sensual lifestyle' thing is 'questionable' in the light of their Christian ethics, or it wasn't really 'the African way', or that my services were way too expensive. All these things were deterring me from being true to my calling. They were holding me back and making me dabble instead of get fully committed to my true course. After doing a lot of introspection and acquiring some lessons from mentors, I realized that it was time that I stepped up and BE THE FUC*EN BIG DEAL I KNOW I AM.

I was afraid,” she said, “and I wanted to hear your voice.

I was afraid of anyone in a costume. A trip to see Santa might as well have been a trip to sit on Hitler's lap for all the trauma it would cause me. Once, when I was four, my mother and I were in a Sears and someone wearing an enormous Easter Bunny costume headed my way to present me with a chocolate Easter egg. I was petrified by this nightmarish six-foot-tall bipedal pink fake-fur monster with human-sized arms and legs and a soulless, impassive face heading toward me. It waved halfheartedly as it held a piece of candy out in an evil attempt to lure me into its clutches. Fearing for my life, I pulled open the bottom drawer of a display case and stuck my head inside, the same way an ostrich buries its head in the sand. This caused much hilarity among the surrounding adults, and the chorus of grown-up laughter I heard echoing from within that drawer only added to the horror of the moment. Over the next several years, I would run away in terror from a guy in a gorilla suit whose job it was to wave customers into a car wash, a giant Uncle Sam on stilts, a midget dressed like a leprechaun, an astronaut, the Detroit Tigers mascot, Ronald McDonald, Big Bird, Bozo the Clown, and every Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, Donald Duck, Pluto, Chip and Dale, Uncle Scrooge, and Goofy who walked the streets at Disneyland. Add to this an irrational fear of small dogs that saw me on more than one occasion fleeing in terror from our neighbor's four-inch-high miniature dachschund as if I were being chased by the Hound of the Baskervilles and a chronic case of germ phobia, and it's pretty apparent that I was--what some of the less politically correct among us might call--a first-class pussy.

I was a mouse trapped in a corner, looking for a crack to flee through but despairing of finding one.

I want you to tell people that fear can kill you," Sook said, "I was afraid, and it killed me.

I was a creature of the night, I wasn't supposed to be afraid of the dark. Not that it was the dark I was afraid of--it was the other creatures of the night.

I was frightened of so many things, in my vanity, that ultimately i couldn't protect myself any other way. Try not to be like that, okay? Be sure to keep your tummy warm, try to relax, both your heart and your body, try not to get flustered. Live like a flower. You have that right. It's something you can achieve, for sure, in your lifetime. And it's enough.

I was cyber-bullied before all those Myspace-related suicides, so my school principal wasn't really impressed when my mom complained about what was happening to me on my Xanga blog and on AIM chat. “Get your life sorted out, you fucking scitzo [sic] dyke tranny bitch,” one comment might say. Another comment would say something like, “I know she's reading this, she's so pathetic.” And, perhaps most frightening of all: “I'm going to fuck you up until your mother bleeds.

I wasn’t about to tell him that I never said anything to anyone who teased me. I just went along with it like it was my joke too. I wanted everyone to like me…

I wasn't afraid of being alone, but I was afraid of what people would think about my solitary state. People, even well-intentioned people, were always trying to take away our quiet little successes and joys and replace them with big, overarching fears. At this school, the worst thing was trying to rise above the limits set for you by the minds of others. Each girl was an island of her own dreams and insecurities, thoughts that made us different in a deeper way than the differences of musical taste, clothes or even culture. Thoughts about the best way to be stoic, how to live with very little control in life, how to make the most of a miserable time doing something that you were supposed to love. And if people thought that fifteen-year-old girls never thought about these sorts of things, it was only because we didn't have the words to express them. We talked all the time, but we hadn't yet learned the words to link thoughts and ideas with any depth of feeling, because we didn't really talk to adults. We talked only to each other. And within this little world, we imprisoned one another. You could be anyone you wanted, Linh– until you were judged and held captive by everyone else's thoughts. Nothing has a stronger hold over a girl than the fear of the thoughts of her peers– thoughts that change five times in a day. No wonder things are so complicated with teenagers.

I was no longer afraid. Not of important men, not of trustees and such; for knowing now that there was nothing which I could expect from them, there was no reason to be afraid.

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

I was never afraid of anything because I never hurt anyone. I was always an old drunk. [Mexico City concert, June 2011]

I was running the gamut from fear to loathing and back to disbelief every time I had a spare moment.

I was out on a lonely road that stretched forever into the darkness. I wanted to run, to get away from him, but it was so dark, I was afraid of where I was going.

I was sick of the body count that existed around my family. It seemed statistically that eventually the body count would include my family.

I was suddenly afraid. I wasn't ready. I guess it's one thing to want something and another to have it.

I was thinking: Girls get scared way too often. Girls get stupidly scared. I was not scared. Telling myself not to be scared kind of worked.

I was terrified of my weakness, of my sharp tongue, of my every flaw. I was terrified that this moment, my chance to live in happiness for however short a time we may have had, would be ruined because I was simply not carved out of the same wood as happiness, and that my grain was too twisted to ever take its form.

I was sure I fell in love with him again like the usual. He did things that made me go back to him. Once again, it scared me half to death.

I was three inches taller but he could smell my fear.

I was told that the disorder was not really in my eyes, but in my central nervous system. I might or might not experience symptoms of neural damage all my life. These symptoms, which might or might not appear, might or might not involve my eyes. They might or might not involve my arms or legs, they might or might not be disabling. Their effects might be lessened by cortisone injections, or they might not. It could not be predicted. The condition had a name, the kind of name usually associated with telethons, but the name meant nothing and the neurologist did not like to use it. The name was multiple sclerosis, but the name had no meaning. This was, the neurologist said, an exclusionary diagnosis, and meant nothing. I had, at this time, a sharp apprehension not of what it was like to be old but of what it was like to open the door to the stranger and find that the stranger did indeed have the knife. In a few lines of dialogue in a neurologist’s office in Beverly Hills, the improbable had become the probable, the norm: things which happened only to other people could in fact happen to me. I could be struck by lightning, could dare to eat a peach and be poisoned by the cyanide in the stone. The startling fact was this: my body was offering a precise physiological equivalent to what had been going on in my mind.

I watched the sky as it turned from silver to grey to the colour of rain. Even the clouds tried to look the other way.

Why are women so fearful? The answer to that question lies at the root of The Cinderella Complex. (...) Many women achieve a certain amount of success in their careers and professions and still remain inwardly insecure. In fact (...), it's remarkable how many women these days retain a hidden core of self doubt while performing on the outside as if they were towers of confidence. (...) Lack of confidence seems to follow us from childhood (...) No matter how fiercely we try to live like adults - flexible, powerful and free - that girl-child hangs on (...). The effects of such insecurity are widespread, and they result in a disturbing social phenomenon: women in general tend to function well below the level of their native abilities. For reasons that are both cultural and psychological - a system that doesn't really expect a great deal from us, in combination with our own personal fears of standing up and facing the world - women are keeping themselves down.

I went into a forest into a plain, and the trees took counsel- And said, Come, let us go and make war against the sea that it may depart away before us, and that we may make us more woods. The floods of the sea also in like manner took counsel, and said, Come, let us go up and subdue the woods of the plain, that there also we may make us another country. The thought of the wood was in vain, for the fire came and consumed it. The thought of the floods of the sea came likewise to nought, for the sand stood up and stopped them. If thou wart judge now betwixt these two, whom would thou begin to justify? or whom would thou condemn?

I will liken my judgment unto a ring: like as there is no slackness of the last, even so there is no swiftness of the first.

I will simply die, as you will simply die, when our hearts stop beating. And instead of the fires of Hell or the clouds of Heaven, there will be a chorus of hungry worms or fish, depending on how we go. Isn’t that what really terrifies you most of all, why you force yourself against all reason to believe in such tales? It’s because you’re afraid of the nothingness at the end. You’re ashamed of it.

I will tell you the secret to getting rich on Wall Street. You try to be greedy when others are fearful. And you try to be fearful when others are greedy.

I wished I could have seen who was talking. If you have something specific and visible to fear, rather than something that could be anything, it is easier.

I wish I could tell him that we’re going through the same thing. I wish I could speak to him like I want to instead of like I’m supposed to. But the idea of admitting that I need help is too much to bear, so I turn away.

I, with my eyes wide open, closed my eyes for years to the secret that I was looking to my children to give me more than either they had it in their power to give or could have given without somehow crippling themselves in the process. I thought that what I was afraid of more than anything else was that something awful would happen to them, but the secret I began to glimpse was that I was really less afraid for the children than I was afraid for myself. What awful thing would happen to me if something happened to them - that was what I was afraid of.

Women need to do more. We need to find out what it is we're afraid of, and go beyond.

I wonder if all the bad brokenness in the world begins with the act of forgetting - forgetting God is enough, forgetting what He gives is good enough, forgetting there's always more than enough and that we can live into an intimate communion. Forgetting is kin to fear. Whenever I forget, fear walks in. We're called to be a people known by our remembering - a remembering people. Forget to give thanks - and you forget who God is. Forget to break and give - and it's your soul that gets broken. Forget to live into...communion - and you end up living into a union of emptiness. If all our bad brokenness begins with an act of forgetting, then doesn't the act of remembering, then making Christ present by being broken and given, doesn't that lead to...communion, which literally re-members us? Everything He embodied in the Last Supper - it is what would heal the body's brokenness. Brokenness can be healed in re-membering, Remembering our union, our communion...with Christ. Re-membering heals brokenness.

I wonder if all moms do this—try to make the terrifying seem mundane.

Joy is a loyal companion, love is a faithful friend, fear is a terrible adversary, and hatred is a merciless enemy.

I wonder if that fear still creeps up on her now though she worked so hard to face it—I wonder if fears ever really go away, or if they just lose their power over us.

I wonder, if I keep faking it, will I eventually believe it? A part of me worries that I’ll keep faking it and completely forget what’s real at all.

Keep your eyes on your dreams, not on your fears.

La paura si usa come mezzo per dominare, e i dominati fanno destrezza della ignoranza e creano patologie.

Lightning does not flinch at thunder's threats.

Life is uncertain. Lord grant us gracious courage to face the uncertainty of life.

Listen, I wanted to say, I don't need your judgment, okay? I have enough to deal with without you contributing, so can we just get on with this so I can get out of here? But I couldn't form the words. Dr. Johnson viewed me as a child, and somehow, under his contemptuous gaze, I had regressed to one. I was frightened and shy, and it was all I could do to answer his questions and count the seconds until the end of the visit.

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.

Literacy rate tells us about the section of society who can read and write, but do we have a tool which can share the stats about out how many educated illiterates we have in our society.

Live a life that leaves a memory, nobody can steal.

Live beyond your fear. This is your life, the good, the bad, all yours. The change you want is beyond your comfort zone. If change was within your comfort zone, you would be wherever you want to be, but it isn’t. The best in life is past our comfort, into our fear and beyond it.