1 I want to show you that I am not afraid of a duel.
2 I was fearfully afraid of being seen, of being met, of being recognised.
3 I was always conscious of that weak point of mine, and sometimes very much afraid of it.
4 Anyway, man has always been afraid of this mathematical certainty, and I am afraid of it now.
5 You declare that you are afraid of nothing and at the same time try to ingratiate yourself in our good opinion.
6 He was evidently uncomfortable at these reminiscences, and was, I fancy, always afraid that I might take up the same tone again.
7 Of course, I hated my fellow clerks one and all, and I despised them all, yet at the same time I was, as it were, afraid of them.
8 But there are other things which a man is afraid to tell even to himself, and every decent man has a number of such things stored away in his mind.
9 By then he had taken to cutting me in the street, and I suspected that he was afraid of compromising himself by greeting a personage as insignificant as me.
10 And perhaps that is just why I am afraid of this edifice, that it is of crystal and can never be destroyed and that one cannot put one's tongue out at it even on the sly.
11 I was afraid not of his six foot, not of getting a sound thrashing and being thrown out of the window; I should have had physical courage enough, I assure you; but I had not the moral courage.
12 What I was afraid of was that everyone present, from the insolent marker down to the lowest little stinking, pimply clerk in a greasy collar, would jeer at me and fail to understand when I began to protest and to address them in literary language.
13 I told you just now that I was not ashamed of my poverty; so you may as well know that I am ashamed of it; I am more ashamed of it than of anything, more afraid of it than of being found out if I were a thief, because I am as vain as though I had been skinned and the very air blowing on me hurt.