Panic Quotes

“Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud,
but I walked numbly through the park, round and round,
40 times for 4 hours
just wanting to make it through the day.

There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got through
and the sky was so blue I couldn’t look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories,
but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desk
tick tick tick
me not making a sound
and some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind,
but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine.
This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely ways
but you can not let it.

I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use.
the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness,
thinking it will help but it only feeds the fire
and I don't want to hurt myself anymore.
I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me—little me. From nowhere at all.
And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again.
It will always be spring again.
And there will always be a new day.”
― Charlotte Eriksson

“The worst part about anxiety attacks, is that you’re aware it’s irrational and sometimes unexplainable, but knowing that gives no aid what so ever. In most cases, it deepens the anxiety as you realise “if I know it’s irrational, why can’t I stop it… Oh god I can’t stop it” you begin to believe you are no longer in control of your mind. That. That is fear.”
― Ami Desu

“We can be seized with panic of the fall, or inspired by the potential that lies within the fall.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“The panic crawled throughout his limbs like a million tiny newborn spiders.”
― Calvin Demmer, Happy Dark Year

“This is not a crisis, I told myself. You are alive.”
― Veronica Roth, Carve the Mark

“The panic was there, staring me down in the face, all the time, like I had a hoodie on backwards and I couldn't get it off.”
― Anne Clendening, Bent: How Yoga Saved My Ass

“The anticipation of loss is much more frightening than the actual loss as anticipation leaves room for the imagination to create that which, in all likelihood, will never transpire.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“Yeah, let’s get John here. That way we can stall for a while longer. We can keep on doing nothing for just a little while longer.”
Albert said, “Take it easy, Howard.”
“Take it easy?” Howard jumped to his feet. “Yeah? Where were you last night, Albert? Huh? Because I didn’t see you out there on the street listening to kids screaming, seeing kids running around hurt and scared and choking, and Edilio and Orc struggling, and Dekka hacking up her lungs and Jack crying and…
“You know who couldn’t even take it?” Howard raged. “You know who couldn’t even take what was happening? Orc. Orc, who’s not scared of anything. Orc, who everyone thinks is some kind of monster. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t…but he did. And where were you, Albert? Counting your money? How about you, Astrid? Praying to Jesus?”
Astrid’s throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe. For a moment panic threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to run from the room, run away and never look back.
Edilio got to his feet and put an arm around Howard. Howard allowed it, and then he did something Astrid never thought she would see. Howard buried his face in Edilio’s shoulder and cried, racking sobs.
“We’re falling apart,” Astrid whispered for herself alone.
But there was no easy escape. Everything Howard had said was true. She could see the truth reflected in Albert’s stunned expression. The two of them, the smart ones, the clever ones, the great defenders of truth and fairness and justice, had done nothing while others had worked themselves to exhaustion.”
― Michael Grant, Lies

“Fear, anxiety, stress and panic, all these are basic evolutionary expression of the human brain. They are part of the normal human condition.”
― Abhijit Naskar, The Islamophobic Civilization: Voyage of Acceptance

“I tried to fight the panic and force it back down to where it had come from.”
― Sue Whitaker

“A man who’s susceptible to panic attack is a man full of worry”
― Sunday Adelaja

“I was extremely worried. What would happen to me now that they knew that I had lost my mind? Would they put me in a padded cell and feed me through a hatch door? Would I end up in one of those places that you hear about, where people go in but never come out?”
― Sue Whitaker, Remember Remember

“Once again I felt light-headed, but this time it wasn't from the scent of lilacs; it was from the scent of my own death.”
― Peter David, Sir Apropos of Nothing

“About time,” Brianna said.
“Hey, sorry, we were kind of busy,” Quinn snapped. “And I didn’t exactly realize I was on a schedule.”
“I don’t like what I have to do here,” Brianna said. She handed Quinn the note.
He read it. Read it again.
“Is this some kind of joke?” he demanded.
“Albert’s dead,” Brianna said. “Murdered.”
“What?”
“He’s dead. Sam and Dekka are off in the wilderness somewhere. Edilio’s got the flu, he might die, a lot of kids have. A lot. And there are these, these monsters, these kind of bugs . . . no one knows what to call them . . . heading toward town.” Her face contorted in a mix of rage and sorrow and fear. She blurted, “And I can’t stop them!”
Quinn stared at her. Then back at the note.
He felt his contented little universe tilt and go sliding away.
There were just two words on the paper: “Get Caine.”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“A person’s industrious and creative mindset can overcome great obstacles that besiege their existence. Humankind’s greatest unraveling is our propensity to panic when confronting the pealing silence of nothingness.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

“You can't remain in a state of sheer panic and terror indefinitely, and both had run their course. Ever since, I've thought that must be why we cry: our bodies are coping with something our minds and hearts can't absorb by themselves.”
― Saroo Brierley

“Nobody had ever done everything because few things are better remained untouched sometimes. Don’t panic because you can’t do all that the world should offer, be eager and glad that you have reached the thought up to this.”
― Bhavik Sarkhedi

“One critic complained to me that "Well, if you are right, we will have to rewrite the textbooks!" As if that were a bad thing ... [But], curiously, some of our most virulent critics are associated with NASA and the government. A NASA employee tells me that this attitude of opposition to impact threats is entrenched in NASA and is only now slowly beginning to change. When it became obvious to NASA decades ago that asteroids and comets are a serious threat, their employees were instructed by top government officials to downplay the risk. The government was concerned that the populace would "panic" over space rocks and demand action, when NASA couldn't do anything about them and didn't want to admit it. Plus, trying to mitigate any impact hazards would have used up funding they wanted to put elsewhere.”
― John Anthony West

“Why do we have to do this in the middle of the night?” Taylor asked.
“Because we don’t want the whole town knowing why we’re going and where we’re going.”
“How can I tell anyone if I don’t even know myself?” Taylor stuck out her lower lip.
“Water. We’re going to look for water,” Sam said.
He could almost hear the wheels in Taylor’s head spinning. Then, “OMG, we’re out of water?” She bit her lip, took a couple of dramatic breaths, and wailed, “Do you mean we’re all going to die?”
“That would be a pretty good example of why we’re keeping this secret,” Sam said dryly.
“I just need to go—”
“Uh-uh!” Sam said. “No you don’t, Taylor. You don’t bounce anywhere or talk to anyone without me agreeing. Are we clear?”
“You know, Sam, you’re nice. And so very, very hot,” Taylor said. “But you’re not really much fun.”
“Let’s get out of here while we can,” Dekka said. “I brought a gun, by the way.”
“Are we going to be in danger?” Taylor cried.
“The gun’s in case you get on my nerves, Taylor,” Dekka warned.
“Oh, so funny,” Taylor said.”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“Roscoe had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. He awoke to find persistent itching on his stomach. He scratched it through his T-shirt.
He went back to sleep. But dreams kept him from sleeping soundly. That and the itching.
He woke again and felt the itchy spot. There was a lump there. Like a swelling. And when he held still and pressed his fingers against the spot he could feel something moving under the skin.
The small room was suddenly very cold. Roscoe shivered.
He went to the window hoping for light. There was a moon but the light was faint. Roscoe pulled his shirt over his head. He looked down at the spot on his stomach.
It was moving. The flesh itself. He could feel it under his fingertips. Like something poking back at him. But he couldn’t feel it from the inside, couldn’t feel it in his stomach. And he realized that his entire body was numb. He could feel with his fingertips but not the skin of his stomach—
The skin split!
“Ahhhh!”
He was touching it as it split, and he shrieked in terror and something pushed its way out through a bloodless hole.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, no no no no!”
Roscoe screamed and leaped for the door. His hand clawed at the knob as he babbled and wept and the door was locked, locked, oh, God, no, they had locked him in.
He banged at the door, but it was the middle of the night. Who would hear him in the empty town hall?
“Hey! Hey! Is anyone there? Help me. Help me. Please, please, someone help me!”
He banged and the thing in his belly stuck out half an inch. He was scared to look at it. But he did and he screamed again because it was a mouth now, a gnashing insect mouth full of parts like no normal mouth. Hooked, wicked mandibles clicked. It was inside him, chewing its way out.
Hatching from him.
“Help me, help me, don’t leave me here like this!”
But who would hear him? Sinder? No. Not anymore. That was over. All over. And he was alone and friendless. No one even to hear as he screamed and begged.
The window. He grabbed the pillow from his bed and pushed it against the glass and then punched it hard. The pane shattered. He took off his shoe and smashed at the starred glass until most of it fell tinkling to the street below.
Then he screamed for help. Screamed into the Perdido Beach night air.
No answer.
“Help me! Please, please, oh, God, please help me! You can’t just leave me locked up!”
But still, no answer.
Fear took hold of him, deep crazy-making fear.
No. No. No no no no, this couldn’t be happening. He hadn’t done anything to hurt anyone, he hadn’t done anything awful. Why? Why was this happening to him?
Roscoe fell to his knees and begged God. God, please, no, no, no, I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t brave or strong but I wasn’t bad, either. Not like this, please, God, no no no, not like this.
Roscoe felt an itching in the middle of his back.
He sat down and cried.”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“For the briefest moment, Jack's face formed the faintest smile as he considered fear and anxiety, the latter two of which often caused people to forget what truly mattered most.”
― Jermaine Watkins, The Heart Train (The Hartford Series Singles) (Episode 1): Jack and Jill

“I wasn’t built for this,” he yelled. “Look at me. You know it’s true.” And for the
first time, maybe ever, he didn’t sound cool. He sounded a little panicked. And a
little angry. “I don’t want to love someone so much that they take up all my head,
all my space. If I knew I was going to feel this way about you, I would have left a
long time ago, while I still could.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Attachments

“Panic is poison.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“To panic at the prospect of being involved in what your dream seem to indicate is normal”
― Sunday Adelaja

“Life is a panic, without a prayer.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“Without prayer, life is a panic.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“Oh, get off it with that. So sensitive about language. Mate, love, nest, whatever. Point is, it stinks, especially when it goes bad. I get wanting to run away.”
― Jackson Lanzing, Joyride Vol. 2

“When face with any problem, do not panic, but pray.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita

“Panic is like a wall, trapping you within the limited borders of your own mind.”
― Stefani Chaney, Midnight

“Over the years I've done everything from small organization units in condo closets with sliding doors, to one massive one-thousand-square-foot duplex closet for a pamper socialite that included a wall of climate-controlled storage for her substantial fur collection, and no lie, a CIA-level fingerprint lock on the door. The only thing that was ever more fun was doing a panic room for a paranoid woman who had recently lost her husband. She wanted to be sure that if someone broke into her Gold Coast brownstone she could survive in comfort for at least a week. We referred to her as the Preppy Prepper, giving her a large panic room with en suite bathroom, which included a mini kitchen stocked with canned caviar and smoked oysters and splits of vintage champagne, completely upholstered in a huge-scale blowsy floral chintz.”
― Stacey Ballis, Recipe for Disaster