Best 203 quotes in «angst quotes» category

Confidence is what we get when we take fear, face it and replace it.

Consciously, she thought she had her feelings for him licked; subconsciously, every time she thought about him, it was as though someone stumbling around inside her head had kicked over a bucket of electric eels.

Damn it! Are you so stupid you don't know what I'm going to do to you?" Her eyes bore into his without flinching. "Are you so stupid you haven't figured out yet that it doesn't matter?

Das Glück befindet sich genau dort, wo die Angst nicht existiert.

Den ängslan som är förbunden med att minnas. Den ängslan som är förbunden med att inte göra det.

Der Mensch hat eine instinktive Angst vor Trieben, die stärker als er selbst erscheinen.

[…] die Angst vor Überwachung aufgrund von Terrorgefahr ist dort [bei der Gemeinschaft der amerikanischen Muslime] besonders stark und tiefgreifend. Und die Muslime haben auch allen Grund dazu. 2012 enthüllten Adam Goldberg und Matt Apuzzo von Associated Press gemeinsame Pläne der CIA und des New Yorker Police Department, ganze muslimische Gemeinden in den USA physisch und elektronisch zu überwachen, selbst wenn nicht einmal der geringste Hinweis auf irgendwelche kriminellen Handlungen bestand. Die Auswirkungen auf ihr Leben beschreiben amerikanische Muslime oft so: Jeder neue Besucher einer Moschee wird als mutmaßlicher FBI-Spitzel betrachtet; im Freundes- und Familienkreis hält man sich in Gesprächen bedeckt, aus Angst, bespitzelt zu werden, und in dem Bewusstsein, dass jede vermeintlich amerikafeindliche Äußerung zum Anlass für Ermittlungen und sogar für Strafverfolgung genommen werden kann.

Dit vrije, belevingsgerichte individu is onbedoeld mede voortgebracht door de existentialiste, die de ontgoocheling over de traditie al in zich droegen en zodoende radicaal op zichzelf werden teruggeworpen. Men kan deze beweging slechts begrijpen als een cultureel fenomeen. Dat de angst, de verveling en de walging grondervaringen van het bestaan worden, moet men met een gedistantieerde blik waarnemen om de symbolische betekenis ervan voor onze cultuur te zien. Hier wordt niet de toestand van de tijdloze mens beschreven; hier uit zich een bepaald ethos, een mens in een bepaalde cultuurfase. Deze stemmingen indiceren een gebroken vertrouwen, een vervreemding van de eigen cultuur, een verlatenheid in het niets van de mogelijkheid. De eigen cultuur geeft geen vertrouwen. Dit is een ervaring die zich reeds bij Nietzsche, maar nog eerder bij Kierkegaard en zelfs ten tijde van de Romantiek openbaarde.

Don’t attach yourself to anyone who shows you the least bit of attention because you’re lonely. Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness. Never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space. An intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception. If you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment. The best you’ll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way. (movie & novel combination)

Does truth lie in the everyday events, the daily incidents, in the pettiness and vulgarity most people’s lives are compounded of, or does the truth have its abode in the dream it is given us to dream to flee our sad human condition?

Don’t attach yourself to anyone who shows you the least bit of attention because you’re lonely. Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness. Never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space. And intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception. If you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment. The best you’ll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way. (Book AND movie combination.)

Do you know what I see in you now? The usual aura. A steady golden yellow, healthy and strong, with spikes of purple here and there. But when I do this. . . .” He rested a hand on my hip, and my whole body tensed up. That hand moved around my hip, slipping under my shirt to rest on the small of my back. My skin burned where he touched me, and the places that were untouched longed for that heat. “See?” he said. He was in the throes of spirit now, though with me at the same time. “Well, I guess you can’t. But when I touch you, your aura . . . it smolders. The colors deepen, it burns more intensely, the purple increases. Why? Why, Sydney?” He used that hand on me to pull me closer. “Why do you react that way if I don’t mean anything to you?” There was a desperation in his voice, and it was legitimate.

Do you know what it was like all those years trying to get you to talk to me and you acting as if I was some sort of pariah, like I had done something so terrible that I was supposed to be banished somewhere you would never have to see me again?

Don’t run away from me, Logan. I’m not sure why you’re scared every time I try and show you some kindness, but don’t reject me. It’s not easy for me either. I’m not a natural. I’ve forgotten how it feels to put down the barriers and let someone in.

Either way, he was always staring into a bottomless pit, or into a whirlpool that forever sucked him inexorably inward to its vortex.

Eighteen months pass in a mere blink of an eye. But when you miss someone, someone that took up over half of your heart, the days seem to drag on for an eternity. Each day seems longer than the one before it. And no matter what everyone tells you, the pain that comes with losing someone you love doesn’t get better. You just get better at living with it.

Ein Schiff, das im Hafen liegt, ist sicher, aber dafür sind Schiffe nicht gemacht. Das Gleiche gilt übrigends für Menschen. [...] Auch wir fühlen uns am sichersten, wenn wir allein zu Hause bleiben und alle Gefahren von uns fernhalten. Am besten auch alle anderen Menschen, um nicht verletzt oder enttäuscht zu werden. [...] Aber dafür sind Menschen eben auch nicht gemacht. Genauso wie ein Schiff im Hafen von Salz und Algen zerfressen wird, passiert das beim Menschen mit Einsamkeit und Angst.

Erwachsenwerden ist wie eine Krankheit, das wurde mir an diesem Tag klar. Eine Krankheit, die sich langsam anschleicht und mit Vorzügen lockt, bis du unvermittelt feststellst, dass all die propagierte Freiheit nichts ist im Vergleich zu den Ängsten und Sorgen, die dir bei jeder Gelegenheit die sich ihnen bietet, vom Nacken über die Schultern krabbeln und dich in den Boden pressen.

Er war nie in die Verlegenheit gekommen, an Gott zu glauben, und der Tod machte ihm keine Angst.

Er war nie in der Verlegenheit gekommen, an Gott zu glauben, und der Tod machte ihm keine Angst.

Es gab kein Zurück mehr und wenn sie ehrlich mit sich war, fragte sie sich, ob es bei den Gefahren, die auf sie zukamen, überhaupt ein Vorwärts geben würde

Er zal waarschijnlijk nooit een afdoende remedie tegen narcisme zijn; het is een onderdeel van de menselijke conditie. Het zal zich afhankelijk van de culture en economische realiteit van een samenleving meer of minder uiten. Het is zinvol om factoren die de weg effenen voor een meer narcistisch gerichte cultuur, zoals angst , ongelijkheid en onzekerheid, te verminderen en kwaliteiten zoals empathie en samenwerking te doen groeien.

Frankly, if her face wasn't so cute, I would most certainly have been punching it.

Every sacred mission, every hunt for hidden relics, every pilgrimage from one end of the earth to the other … I was looking for you.

Fly Generation We stand tall, we stand proud, we are the ‘fly’ generation We think what we learn to think and dream with our eyes open We keep our hearts on our sleeves for it to be broken but we can take it, we are the ‘fly’ generation. We question things when we need to understand Its important we know, how it works, where we stand Why all this pain and no explanation? we need answers, we are the ‘fly’ generation. We love to hate and hate to love, what have we become? Since when is that the norm? when did we succumb? The victims will be forgotten and culprits will change face But we will still be running, running to win the invisible race. So here’s to the untold stories and six degrees of separation we can take it, after all… we are the ‘fly’ generation.

Frightened people live in their own special hell.

Fuck 'em. Call it whatever you want. Maybe it's just two people clinging to each other to stay alive. Maybe sometimes that's all love gets to be. And, maybe, if they hold onto each other long enough . . . maybe something good finally happens.

Haven't you felt it? The loss of autonomy. The sense of being virtualized. The devices you use, the ones you carry everywhere, room to room, minute to minute, inescapably. Do you ever feel unfleshed? All the coded impulses you depend on to guide you. All the sensors in the room that are watching you, listening to you, tracking your habits, measuring your capabilities. All the linked data designed to incorporate you into the megadata. Is there something that makes you uneasy? Do you think about the technovirus, all systems down, global implosion? Or is it more personal? Do you feel steeped in some horrific digital panic that's everywhere and nowhere?

Go with yourself.

Hast du manchmal Angst?", fragt er. "Ich meine nicht Angst vor einer Prüfung. Oder dem Erzieher. Sondern so richtig Angst. So Angst vor dem Leben. Weißt du?" Troy schluckt. Er beugt sich nach vorn. "Leben ist Angst haben", sage ich. Mir wird unangenehm. Eigentlich habe ich noch nie darüber nachgedacht. Aber ich glaube, es stimmt.

Have we become so defensive that we cannot even tolerate a kind act?

Heartache doesn't teach you to be resilient. It teaches you to protect your fragility. It teaches you to fear love. And it draws a bright red circle around all the ways you've failed as a person and laughs while you cry.

God's will can go fuck itself. And so can you.

Her entire life, she’d been told sin was wrong, a black and white interpretation of what is evil and what is holy in the world—colored like a priest’s robe and collar—but she never believed it to be true. Sin was colorful: scarlet like rose blood, azure like skin deprived oxygen, violet as bruises, jade as rot; a colorful contradiction to the darkness and blinding light all are taught sin and holiness to be.

He was acting like our kiss had broken him, and his reaction was breaking me.

He rolled the other way and watched the digital display of his alarm ticking seconds off he'd never get back. This is the life we're given. One life. One opportunity to be happy, to make others happy, and I'm letting it slip through my fingers because I'm afraid.

Het is in het beklemtonen van dat iets niet erg is, dat het ons niet bang maakt, dat we er niet triest van zijn geworden, dat we vaak net de heftigheid van de ware emotie verraden, ook al geloven we het schimmige zelfbedrog terwijl we het aan het formuleren zijn.

Het besef van eeuwigheid woog zwaarder dan mijn angst en God hielp mij mijn angsten te overwinnen.

His dark gaze searched her face. “Aren’t you curious, inspector? A kiss—and only a kiss.” Only a kiss . . . from someone who wanted her. Longing slipped through her, tugging at hopes best kept buried. Yes, Mina wanted to know. But she couldn’t afford it. “No,” she said. He smiled. “Liar.

I am pieces of a person, forever preserved when they were chipped off. There’s nothing but fragments inside a skin.

Ich hatte Angst in ein Gasthaus zu gehen wenn Bauern drinnensaßen. Ich dachte mir daß sie nichts Gutes über mich denken. Ich überwand diese Angst mit der Vorstellung etwas Besonderes zu sein. Das Besondere bestand in meinem Leid. Ich war erfüllt von dem Maß meiner Leiden. Ich habe Angst diese Leiden aufzugeben weil ich nicht weiß was dann von mir übrigbleibt.

Ich musste mich zusammennehmen! Ich wollte einfach keine Furcht mehr empfinden! Aber so fest ich mir's vornahm, immer regte sich ein zweites Ich, und dieses zweite Ich - hatte Furcht. Ich fragte mich, was es eigentlich zu fürchten gäbe. Mein tapferes Ich spottete über das feige Ich. Nie habe ich so wie an diesem Tage den Gegensatz der beiden Wesen verspürt, die in uns wohnen. Das eine will, das andere widerstrebt, und wechselnd haben sie die Oberhand.

I could be the ceaseless mist that fogs your colourless eyes when you're lost in your universes.

I couldn't tell anyone how I felt because I knew they wouldn't understand. Oh, poor little Christina, falling for the bad man who treats her like dirt because she didn't know any better. And isn't it a pity that they don't still teach sex-ed in schools? Or, oh, Christina, that filthy slut, if she puts out for a man like that, I imagine she puts out for anyone. You stay away from her. It wasn't like that at all. Maybe it would have been easier if it was, just like ticking a box. Are you the Madonna, or the whore? The victim, or the vixen? The Sabine, or the skank? But nothing in life is ever that simple.

I'd do anything to do it all over again, even if it ended this way still. Had I a choice, you know I would not go.

Don't give in, Alex, don't let them win. You beat them once and you can do it again. Don't let this place break you. Keep your mind busy, keep yourself occupied, find things to do. If you're doing things, then you still exist, right?

I’d say I needed to find myself, if that didn’t sound like I was heading into the Himalayas, taking only a backpack stuffed with angst and clean underwear.

If being queer meant loving Aaron, then he'd own the label, at least internally.

If he would see me again, I would die happy. In the meantime, I was merely dying.

I find some small, twisted comfort in thinking that perhaps we used each other. Him, for a glimpse into what it would be like to live a life entirely different from the one he'd been raised to desire, and me for the steady diet of angst and emotional damage that seemed to make me better, sharper, like a sword against a whetstone. I was his intellectual escape from a long parade of pretty, empty girls... and he was my drug of choice -- unhealthy, probably lethal, but ultimately so addictive it was hard to turn away. The problem, of course, with this theory of mutual exploitation, is that it is the deepest of lies. There was nothing equal or mutual about the way we used each other. I barely scratched his surface while he sliced me limb from limb. There's no comfort in that. None at all.