I have one great fear in my heart, that one day when they (the whites of South Africa) have turned to loving, they will find we (the blacks) are turned to hating.
I'm a high school student and this is from a poem I wrote called Sometimes He Wonders. You may split it into different parts if you'd like - right now I'll put it as Unsorted. And He feels so incredibly weak when he has ferociously quarreled against them since his genuine years and has lost. His hopes for a better understanding dissipate as he grows older, and his mind grows less eager to reach a verdict. Having no sense of direction, he roams here, looking above, asking futile questions, even though the answers may be feared. Good by nature, he has learned his survival skills, which will lead him into the real world, and will someday make him a successful individual. Wishing the pressure did not exist, it is a natural instinct to adapt and not to recluse. He rather is a mindless drone than a lonely Hermit, after all. He has no control over his environment, it is the exact opposite. Molded and shaped by his surroundings, he seeks about for himself and his purpose, while this mold slowly deteriorates organic matter.
Top presenters have total control of their fears. They make fear their slave, not the master.
There are only three sins - causing pain, causing fear, and causing anguish. The rest is window dressing.
The miser acquires, yet fears to use his gains.
He that is down need fear no fall.
If we work upon marble it will perish. If we work upon brass time will efface it. If we rear temples they will crumble to dust. But if we work upon men's immortal minds, if we imbue them with high principles, with the just fear of God and love of their fellow men, we engrave on those tablets something which no time can efface, and which will brighten and brighten to all eternity.
Sounds like the blues are composed of feeling, finesse, and fear.
Mysticism and exaggeration go together. A mystic must not fear ridicule if he is to push all the way to the limits of humility or the limits of delight.
Mysticism and exaggeration go together. A mystic must not fear ridicule if he is to push all the way to the limits of humility or the limits of delight.
But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings; and ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall.
O pilot! 'tis a fearful night, There's danger on the deep.
Fear is that little darkroom where negatives are developed.
Fear not those who argue but those who dodge.
Fear can be conquered. I became a better person and a better football player when I learned that lesson.
Fear is the biggest motivator.
My worst fear is that I'll end up living in some run-down duplex on Wilshire wearing pants hiked up to my nipples and muttering under my breath.
Fear of the pain blinds us to the goal of healing. Only by seeing our problems clearly and experiencing them can we do something about them.
Fear is met and destroyed with courage.
When you face your fear, most of the time you will discover that it was not really such a big threat after all. We all need some form of deeply rooted, powerful motivationâit empowers us to overcome obstacles so we can live our dreams.
The fear of being wrong is the prime inhibitor of the creative process.
Fear can be headier than whiskey, once man has acquired a taste for it.
He without fear is king of the world.
Fear of success can also be tied into the idea that success means someone else's loss. Some people are unconsciously guilty because they believe their victories are coming at the expense of another.
I think over again my small adventures, my fears, These small ones that seemed so big. For all the vital things I had to get and to reach. And yet there is only one great thing, The only thing. To live to see the great day that dawns And the light that fills the world.