Fear (n.) and desire shrink us into mere bodies, entrails and genitals, so that we flatter the very people we dread.
Fear (n.) misplaced is the deer fleeing the feathers straight into the nets: we flee death and pain, and run carelessly into deceit and shameful desires.
Fear (n.) inflates everything: at sea it imagines swallowing the whole ocean when three pints would do; in an earthquake, the whole town falling when one small stone would do.
Fear (n.) attaches to what a ruler can do, not to him: no one fears Caesar but death, exile and confiscation, and no one loves him, only his posts — which is why we worship such men as gods.
Fear (n.) has nothing to grip once you treat property and children as children treat broken pottery in a game: you play the moves and do not care for the pieces.