He is full of adrenaline, his nerves are shot, and his mind is cluttered up with free-floating anxiety-floating around on an ocean of generalized terror.

And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.

He whom many fear must needs fear many.

A man who fears suffering is already suffering from what he fears.

In the darkness he saw visions of a thousand-tongued fear that would babble at his back and cause him to flee, while others were going coolly about their country’s business. He admitted that he would not be able to cope with this monster. He felt that every nerve in his body would be an ear to hear the voices, while other men would remain stolid and deaf.

I feel my capacity to experience a terror greater than anything yet conceived by the human mind—something combining in fearful and unnatural amalgamation hitherto supposed incompatible elements.

He sees passion in her gray eyes, and it scares him as all passion scares him, his own included.

He who fears he shall suffer, already suffers what he fears.

It was not just for herself that she feared now, but for her baby. He must have sensed her fright, for he moved restlessly inside her.

In the dark, I like to read his mind But I'm frightened of the things I might find.

Frightened by something in her own nature

Certainty sent a sick dread snaking through his gut: he was being stalked.

He knew that in so far as one denies what is, one is possessed by what is not, the compulsions, the fantasies, the terrors that flock to fill the void.

It was more than a spider. It was every unknown terror in the world fused into wriggling, poison-jawed horror. It was every anxiety, insecurity, and fear in his life given a hideous, night-black form.