You'd have thought that after suffering such a loss nothing else would matter to her but that didn't seem to be how it worked. She was fearful about everything now. It was as if she had finally seen the awful power of fate, it's deviousness, the way it could wipe out in an instant the one thing you had been certain you could rely on, and now she was constantly looking over her shoulder, trying to work out where the next blow might fall.
- Videla sam... u Sodenu i u Prekorečju... čitava polja... Ležali su svuda po zemlji, kidali su ih vukovi i divlji psi, kljucale ih ptice. Sigurno su tamo bili i gulovi.- Zbog toga i učiš o gulovima, Ciri. Kada nešto poznaješ, to prestaje da bude noćna mora. Kada znaš kako da se boriš protiv nečega, opasnost više nije toliko velika. Kako treba da se boriš protiv gula, Ciri?
The Storms of This LifeWatching the distant clouds building and growing forevermoreThe harsh wind begins rushing thru the leaves with the branches bending to and froIn the attempts to not give in again I'm standing firm on all that I knowAnd extending out my hand reaching beyond the heavens aboveGrasping for His strength to hold on, along with the endurance to make it thruPraying that the ground beneath me will not erode nor engulf all that I love
There is one thing I can say for sure about fear, and that is this: until you face it, it will always be out there standing in your way, preventing you from reaching your full potential. It is only when you build up the courage to face it, when you finally decide the benefits outweigh the regrets, when you are willing to put one foot in front of the other, that you will take the risk and learn the one thing I now know for sure: that it too shall pass.
La sombra se endureció. Oscureció su semblante. Bajó el rostro y la mirada. Cerró los párpados con rabia y dejó de mirar el fuego. Sintió cómo las llamas seguían ardiendo dentro de él. «Huye», se decía, «corre, teme al fuego, pero no importa donde vayas, no importa lo que hagas... Nada te salvará de ti, Gryal, contigo estarás toda tu vida».
I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. It begins in your mind, always. One moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, happy. Then fear, disguised in the garb of mild-mannered doubt, slips into your mind like a spy.
That is why in adult life, people generally tend to relive rather than live, that is, to repeat the patterns of the past and defend the primary fantasy in the defiance, and avoid the real gamble or real adventure of taking a chance on something new. They are afraid that if they really cry out, if they really ask, if they really scream for help, that it won't come, and they'll be in the same panicky frightened state they were in when they were little.
Selfishness, self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles. Driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking, and self-pity, we step on the toes of our fellows and they retaliate. Sometimes they hurt us, seemingly without provocation, but we invariably find that at some time in the past we have made decisions based on self which later placed us in a position to be hurt. So our troubles, we think, are basically of our own making.
Doubt has become the veritable wellspring of my creative process and my philosophic explorations. It has equipped me with the temerity and wherewithal to question certain truths deemed ‘fundamental’ by my betters. Defiance has made me stubborn—possibly even arrogant—enough to shrug off rejection and all fears thereof, no matter how lacerating to the self-esteem these could be. It has given me the will to seek only to satisfy myself.
Neither fear nor self-interest can convert the soul. They may change the appearance, perhaps even the conduct, but never the object of supreme desire... Fear is the motive which constrains the slave; greed binds the selfish man, by which he is tempted when he is drawn away by his own lust and enticed (James 1:14). But neither fear nor self-interest is undefiled, nor can they convert the soul. Only charity can convert the soul, freeing it from unworthy motives.
We say, "It wasn't that bad. It was all my fault. I’m making all this stuff up. "All my life, I spoke bitterly of my mother's treatment of me as a child.Friends asked, “What did she do toyou?“ I couldn't really describe it, and in frustration would say, “Well, she didn't lock us up in closets." in fact, my mother behaved much worse than that, but by focusing on the empty closet, I avoided looking at what waited beyond it.
You're seeing yourself as having missed the target already. That's your fear. That's hurting you. But then you got yourself seeing all your shots being bulls eyes. That's your confidence. It's making you cocky. It's making you think you're infallible. See? That's hurting you too. Don't think of yourself as already defeated. Don't think of yourself as already won. Just concentrate on what you're doing. Think about now.
It is a very strange sensation to inexperience youth to feel itself quite alone the world, cut adrift from every connection, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted. The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warms it; but then the throb of fear disturbs it; and fear with me became predominant when half an hour elapsed, and still I was alone.
Mari remembered what she had read in the young girl's eyes the moment she had come into the refectory: fear.Fear. Veronika might feel insecurity, shyness, shame, constraint, but why fear? That was only justifiable when confronted by a real threat: ferocious animals, armed attackers, earthquakes, but not a group of people gathered together in a refectory.But human beings are like that,' she thought. 'We've replaced nearly all our emotions with fear.
But no one could say he hadn't gotten even. He could not count the field women whom he had sexually degraded and demoralized and in whom he had left his seed so their bastard children would be a daily visual reminder of what a plantation white man could do to a plantation black woman whenever he wanted, nor could he count the black men whom he had made fear his blackjack as they would fear Satan himself, making each of them a lifetime enemy of all white people.
