A threatening place "Most people see the world as a threatening place, and, because they do, the world turns out, indeed, to be a threatening place." Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist fearwisdom
We, their hearts "People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams, because they feel that they don't deserve them, or that they'll be unable to achieve them. We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away forever, or of moments that could have been good but weren't, or of treasures that might have been found but were forever hidden in the sands. Because, when these things happen, we suffer terribly." Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist dreamsfear
Litany Against Fear I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. Frank Herbert, Dune dune.fandom.com fearminddeath
There's a demon inside of you There's a demon inside of you – it's inside both of you. Look, everyone! This is what hatred looks like. This is what it does when it catches hold of you. It's eating me alive and very soon now it will kill me. Fear and anger only make it grow faster. Hayao Miyazaki, Princess Mononoke hatefear
Management and manipulation of fear More and more of daily life is governed by the management and manipulation of fear. A society can be judged by the risks to which it chooses to respond, the dangers it values, the targets it gives high priority. Michael Sorkin, 20 Minutes in Manhattan fearsociety
He hurries to the attic Here the conscious acts like a man who, hearing a suspicious noise in the cellar, hurries to the attic and, finding no burglars there, decides, consequently, that the noise was pure imagination. In reality, this prudent man did not dare venture into the cellar. Carl Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul fearpsychology
A handful of dust There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land feardarkness
A Slow Boat to China A Short Story from The Elephant Vanishes by Haruki Murakami Can you even call it memory?Never any place I was meant to be
Can you even call it memory? My recall is a damn sight short of total. It’s so unreliable that I sometimes think I’m trying to prove something by it. But what would I be proving? Especially since inexactness is not exactly the sort of thing you can prove with any accuracy. Anyway—or rather, that being the case—my memory can be impressively iffy. I get things the wrong way around, fabrication filters into fact, sometimes my own eyewitness account interchanges with somebody else’s. At which point, can you even call it memory any more? memory
Never any place I was meant to be Supposing I found myself chasing another fly ball and ran head-on into a basketball backboard, supposing I woke up once again lying under an arbor with a baseball glove under my head, what words of wisdom could this man of thirty-odd years bring himself to utter? Maybe something like: This is no place for me. This was never any place I was meant to be. melancholywisdomage