All civilizations at some time have fallen into this total terror, when the mystery of life was a kind of panic only to be assuaged by the spilling of blood.
Under the federal reserve act, panics are scientifically created. The present panic is the first scientifically created one, worked out as we figured, a mathematical equation.
It made our hair stand up in panic fear.
One moment I'm perfectly fine and the next I feel a wave of nausea, then panic. Then I can't catch my breath and I know I'm about to lose control and all I want to do is escape. Except that the one thing I can't escape from is the very thing I want to run away from. . . me.
In a way, art has always been my way of problem-solving, of getting through situations, of finding my response to things, so to imagine doing something else makes me panic a little bit.
During a panic attack, I remember that today is just today and that is all that it is. I take a deep breath in and I realize that in this moment I am fine and everything is okay. More importantly, I am reminded that my A. P. C. jeans are so perfectly worn in that they are appropriate for any season and I am suddenly at ease.
The wisest rule in investment is: when others are selling, buy. When others are buying, sell. Usually, of course, we do the opposite. When everyone else is buying, we assume they know something we don't, so we buy. Then people start selling, panic sets in, and we sell too.
I'm really good in a crisis, because I don't panic.
A study of the panics of 1873, 1893, and 1907 indicates that these panics were the result of the international bankers' operations in London.
Nobody panics when things go “according to plan”. Even if the plan is horrifying!
I'm no good at down-time. I panic slightly and then plan a project or set up a meeting about starting a project.
The most scared I'd ever been was the first time I sang at a rugby match, Australia versus New Zealand, in front of one hundred thousand people. I had a panic attack the night before because people have been booed off and never worked again. . . just singing one song, the national anthem.
I have a terrible image in my mind of a cow going to slaughter. There's not a lot of fight in them. Pigs, they'd squeal and thrash around. They'd fight. It's almost as if cows don't know they have a choice. Not that they don't panic, but they do so in a quiet way.
Now, if some panic hits me, you have to sort of be friends with your body, it's like your body will work against you.