Quotes about frightened

Whatever the depth of our darkness, God navigated it eons before it was dark. And whatever the duration of our nights, God was there long before it ever turned to night. Therefore, despite our frequent feelings to the contrary, there is no place we might be where God was not lovingly waiting for us an eternity before we got there.

It's what's buried deep inside that frightens me because it's broken, like a shattered mirror.

Seven billion who need to be kept happy, and docile, until the end. How do you do that? What's the best way to calm down a scared kid, get them to go back to sleep? Tell them a story. Some shit about Jesus or whatever.

How often do I stand in abject terror and raw trepidation before the impossible peaks that soar to impossible heights in front me, when God turns to me and calmly says “what mountains?

So I take a deep breath.Step forward.Let go.10 seconds and I'm trying to breathe9And I'm trying to be brave8But the truth is I'm scared out of my mind7And I have no idea what's waiting for me behind that door6And I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a heart attack5But I can't turn back now4Because there it is3The door is right in front of me2All I have to do is knock1Butthe door flies open first.

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

As long as enough people can be frightened, then all people can be ruled. I am afraid that's how it works in a democracy.

It was a strange monster, for beneath its exterior it was frightened and sickened by its own violence. It chastised itself for its savagery. And sometimes it had no heart for violence and rebelled against it utterly.

Now the thought of forever makes me tired. Frightened. Sad. What is forever worth? When love is so fragile and even one human life so long?

You see," the tourist went on, "you know that thing you do with seaweed?"Bethan, brought up on the Vortex Plains, had only heard of the sea in stories, and had decided she didn't like it. She looked blank. "Eat it?" "No, what you do is, you hang it up outside your door, and it tells you if it's going to rain." Another thing Bethan had learned was that there was no real point in trying to understand anything Twoflower said, and that all anyone could do was run alongside the conversation and hope

Don't be afraid to talk because in the long run, you will be afraid that you were too silent.

In the dark behind the glare of the television, like a mannequin behind it, I could see a silhouette and it wasn’t moving. It was maybe six foot high with its shoulders hunched and I blinked to make sure it was real. The TV fuzzed grey and white and black and I had a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow away. “Rory” I whispered. Clawing out gently beneath the duvet cover, reaching for his hand. But I couldn’t find it. And he didn’t answer.

The scratching came from the attic. At night, when Rory turned out the light I would lie awake and wait for it to skit, skit, skit lightly across the floorboards above our heads and down behind the water pipes.

It was the kind of scream that would be in a horror movie right before someone got chopped up into little bitty pieces.

I cried for all of those things that should have just been for us...

Every danger loses some of its terror once its causes are understood.

Witnessing honesty frightens some people because they haven't known authenticity in their own life.

Trees surrounded them from all sides, casting long inky shadows that would, at another time, have been scary. But there was no point in being scared of what might be lurking in the shadows when the biggest bad, of all big bads, was gazing at her intently.

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

Do not be frightened, friend. Let us dance our way to God.

The world screams, ‘Stay down, it’s safer.’ My soul screams, ‘So is being dead.

My fear of endings too often blocks my hope of beginnings.

As I contemplate a relationship with God, I find that I’m afraid to ride on the coattails of the infinite. But what I fear more than that is spending my life in the coat closet.

Faith is rare because fear is rampant. For faith will demand that I step into places that fear itself fears to go.

Is it possible that my walls are specifically erected and intentionally reinforced out of the fear that God calls me to an existence without walls? And if this is so, do I realize that I am the warden of prison that I created in which I myself am the prisoner?

I think that it is infinitely wiser to accept the fact that we’re afraid, for in accepting our fear we are in no way granting it the power to crush us. Rather we are finally empowering ourselves sufficiently so that we can crush it.

Ignorance is my refusal to think outside the box of my fears.

Too often it’s about what stands before us, not what stands within us.

My life is too often driven by the fear of the next moment verses focusing on the privilege that I have the next moment.

What is fear but that ‘thing’ that we believed to be as powerful as it pretended to be.

In a polished surface of metal I happen to notice my reflected face; it wears a pale, beaten lonely look, eyes looking out at nothing with an expression of fear, frightened and lonely in a nightmare world. Something, I don’t know what, makes me think of my childhood; I remember myself as a schoolchild sitting at a hard wooden desk, and then as a little girl with thick, fair, wind-tossed hair, feeding the swans in a park. And it seems both strange and sad to me that all those childish years were

Sadly, it seems that I have the proclivity to create plenty of devils, but most of the time I don’t even go looking for angels.

Fear is my mind painstakingly creating the worse-case scenario and then putting it on steroids.

I’m not the author of my fears, but I sure feed them really well.

Maybe my greater fear should not be fear itself, but what I will lose should I submit to fear.

Sadly, in too many cases surrender is having been ‘outrun’ by fear rather than having ‘run out’ of heart.

A child's (or an adult's) nervous system may detect danger or a threat to life when the child enters a new environment or meets a strange person. Cognitively, there is no reason for them to be frightened. But often, even if they understand this, their bodies betray them. Sometimes this betrayal is private; only they are aware that their hearts are beating fast and contracting with such force that they start to sway. For others, the responses are more overt. They may tremble. Their faces may flus

If we’re honest, what makes something impossible is not our fear. Rather, it is our indifference.

If your dream doesn't scare you, it's not big enough.

Fear tells me that while there might be a host of people who wish to stand beside me in times of crisis, the tangled wreckage is sometimes so enormous that the best of their efforts leave them stranded at a great distance. And standing desperately alone surveying the carnage that holds all others a bay, God suddenly taps me on the shoulder, leans over and whispers, 'how about a little demolition?

I cannot be afraid of being afraid. Rather, I need to realize that it is my fear that gives me the energy to wrestle that which I fear into the dirt that is soon to become the road underneath my feet.

The more we construct lives that prioritize safety, the bigger the prison we construct around ourselves.

If I am sufficiently brave to extract the cancer of fear, I have effectively gutted my conviction that what stands before me is impossible.

Safety is not a destination that we reach for, rather it is a retreat that we escape to. And if our lives are marked by the incessant search for safety, we will live the whole of it going in reverse.

We think that boxes take everything that’s bad and they lock all that nasty stuff out, when in reality they take everything that we are and they lock all of those great things in.

If there’s any redeeming quality that I can find in running away from something, it’s that I’m on my feet. Now all I’ve got to do is alter my direction.

Fear left unrestrained always leaves us running ‘from’ something. Fear harnessed compels us to run ‘to’ something. And fear denied leaves us running in circles.

Self-preservation is to hunker down in the suffocating confines of this infinitesimally tiny existence that I define as ‘me,’ instead of letting ‘me’ run through the infinitely massive expanse of everything that is not me. And if the beast of self-preservation does not permit such freedoms, I will preserve myself to my own death.

I am amazed that without any hesitation whatsoever I can completely believe myself to be on a grand journey of massive vistas and bold ascents, only to find that they are nothing more than a figment of a frightened imagination that needed a journey but could not admit to the fear of actually taking one.

I might define a ‘journey’ as something that life itself calls me to. And I might then define a ‘trip’ as something I create to avoid a journey by mimicking a journey. And while fear is most certainly part and parcel of both, the latter is emboldened by fear while the former surrenders to it.

It’s not about the elimination of fear. Rather it’s about the elimination of the feeling that the elimination of fear is necessary before we take the next step.

The hand of God is wonderfully evident at those times when He pens stories whose lines we ourselves are far too fearful to pen or whose imaginations are far too limited to envision. And I would unashamedly suggest that the Christmas story is that very story.

How often have I painted a splendid picture of a journey marked by courageous ascents and daring desert crossings when all along all I’ve really been doing is running?

Fear is often bred of an imagination that couldn’t let something be what it actually was.

Fear is a lethal killer of dreams, the greatest cancer that has beset passion, and a ruthless thief of lives stolen and buried in the decay of lives squandered. Yet the greatest tragedy of all is that the fear that destroys us is rarely the monster it pretends to be, nor does it possess anything close to the power that we grant it. Therefore, it is only a killer, a cancer and a thief because we empower it to be so.

What in the world would ever lead to me believe that life is a series of opportunities that are readily available to everyone else but me? What really leads me to believe such an atrocious lie is that I don’t believe in myself sufficiently to engage those opportunities in the first place.

The assumption is that if I expend myself for myself in the end all I’ll be left with is myself, and that alone is frightening. But what I’ve failed to consider is that I have to expend so much of myself living for myself that in the end I’m really left with very little of myself, and that is unimaginably frightening.

The choice to avoid risk is the choice to avoid living, and to avoid living is one of the greatest risk of all.

Choosing a life of safety is safely choosing something other than life.

Either we are running ‘from’ what we fear or running ‘to’ what we fear. The former is a choice controlled by fear, the latter is an action inspired by it.

Most of our fears are borrowed. Since that’s the case, we should get busy returning them.

If I am brave enough to stand against those who have been groomed by fear, I will recognize that where I get knocked down is all about where life begins, and has nothing to do with where it ends.

Too often fear is fiction madly running amuck, all the while madly tracking ‘muck’ across the floor of fact.

Have we ever thought that being lost is our destination?

Frightened people live in their own special hell.

I'm afraid to go out at night because it's too dark.I'm afraid to try different food because I may not like it.I'm afraid to do something different because what if I fail.I'm afraid to smile at someone because it may lead to a conversation.I'm afraid to make friends because they may end up leaving me one day.I'm afraid to commit to any relationship because what if they're not as committed as I am.I'm afraid to go out because someone may break in while I'm not home.I'm afraid to think differently

No. No… No!’ the fear ebbed my voice, cut through me like a knife. I ran, bare feet slipping and sliding over the floorboards. I turned the corner and headed for the backdoor.Run. Run. I must run.As soon as I reached the backdoor in the kitchen, pulling the barn door from the hinges, I felt his gaze upon me. Cinders and kindling crunched at my feet; what had once been my lovely mahogany kitchen furniture was now little more than firewood. My crockery and china splintered in shards and as I turne

…Do you think there’s somewhere else, some other place to go after this one?” Mandy blurted out.“You mean when you die, where will you end up?” Alecto asked her. “…I wouldn’t know… back to whatever void there is, I suppose.”“I’ve thought about it… every living thing dies alone, it’ll be lonely after death,” Mandy sighed sadly. “That freaks me out, does it scare you?”“I don't want to be alone,” Alecto replied wearily. “We won’t be, though. We’ll be dead, so we’ll just be darkness, not much else,

You can't stop a soldier from being frightened but you can give him motivation to help him overcome that fear. I have no such motivation. I can't have. I'm a witcher: an artificially created mutant. I kill monsters for money. I defend children when their parents pay me to. If Nilfgaardian parents pay me, I'll defend Nilfgaardian children. And even if the world lies in ruin - which does not seem likely to me - I'll carry on killing monsters in the ruins of this world until some monster kills me.

You couldn't save your mom because you weren't strong enough to do so. As for me, I couldn't stand and face the titan because I simply didn't have the courage! Forgive me... Forgive me.

I can attempt to stay on the fence. However, the problem is that the fence is a figment of my fear not a reality of my journey.

Suddenly, a voice called from the darkness. Taylor leapt like a salmon, then became rooted to the spot like a tin of salmon.

He had a hungry look in his eyes and it frightened her.

An angry wife can be more frightening than an army of disgruntled soldiers.