Fear (n.) is self-protection from the past, a kind of knowledge of the past disguised as shock and concealed as excitement. It is the shock of the old.
Fear (n.) is real even in a dream: the robbers are imaginary, but the fear is real.
Fear (n.) once objectified had not yet split into its two later forms: veneration and horror.
Fear (n.) is not ultimately the fear of death — that high-sounding phrase has hardly any meaning.
Fear (n.) is never the useful part of the reaction to danger: the frightened animal is afraid and flees, but what saves it is the flight, not the being afraid.
Fear (n.) is what we call anxiety once it has found an object; anxiety proper is anxiety about something, yet indefinite and objectless.
Fear (n.) out of proportion to a real danger gives the game away: the surplus belongs to some unknown danger from within.
Fear (n.) corresponds in each case to a former wish now repressed, so one must believe the exact contrary of the conscious assertion.
Fear (n.) fed from an unconscious source proves obdurate and exaggerated against all reasoning — and so betrays where it comes from.