Nervous Quotes

“Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am able, - to dress and entertain, and order things”
― Charlotte Perkins Gilman, The Yellow Wall-Paper

“A nervous silence loosens tongues”
― Jacqueline Carey, Kushiel's Chosen

“Are you going to kiss me?" I blabbered stupidly.
"I'm working up the nerve," he said softly.”
― Liz Reinhardt, Double Clutch

“Pray don't talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me quite nervous.”
― Oscar Wilde

“Some people are attracted to sickness, to the kind of madness where sparks fly
off the head, to the incoherence of despair, masked by nervous energy, which winds up looking like bewildered joy.”
― Luke Davies, Candy

“Nothing is as irritating to a shy man as a confident girl.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“I don't know why it is, Captain Short, but whenever you start agreeing with me, I get decidedly nervous.”
― Eoin Colfer, Artemis Fowl

“Relax; the world's not watching that closely. It's too busy contemplating itself in the mirror.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year

“When you feel nervous, recall your pride.”
― Toba Beta, My Ancestor Was an Ancient Astronaut

“Nervous people tend to overreact.”
― Toba Beta, Master of Stupidity

“It’s like this: Me: Hey, brain. Let’s think of something cool to say!

Brain: UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Me: Okay, it doesn’t have to be cool. Just something semi-coherent . . .

Brain: UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Me: COME ON, BRAIN, GIVE ME SOMETHING.

Brain: white noise

Shit. Shit. Shit.”
― Becky Albertalli, The Upside of Unrequited

“Everyone is quiet. Which is the wooooooorst. It’s scary when a group of people all know instinctively not to joke around.”
― Tina Fey, Bossypants

“When it is time to sleep, Tiernan and Oak wrap themselves in bearskins. Oak drapes one over my shoulders. I say nothing to indicate that I don't need it, that I am never too cold. When we lie down by the fire, he watches me. The light dances in his eyes.

'Come here,' he says, beckoning with a hand.

I am not sure I know the me who moves, who shifts so that I am resting my head against his shoulder. The me who feels his breath against my hair and the pressure of his splayed fingers at the small of my back. His feet tangle with mine, my toes brushing against the fur just above his hooves. My fingers are resting against his stomach, and I cannot help feeling the hard planes of him, the muscles and the scars. When I move my hand, his breath catches.

We both go still. Tiernan, close to the fire, turns in his sleep.

In the firelight, the prince's amber eyes are molten gold.

I am aware of my skin in a way I have never been before, of the slight movements of my limbs, of the rise and fall of my chest. I can hear the beat of his heart against my cheek. I feel as though I am shouting kiss me with every restless shift of my body. But he does not, and I am too much of a coward to do more than lie there and yearn until my eyes drift closed at last.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Her nerves vibrated hard enough to shatter her bones while she composed an elaborate mental fantasy of ripping the book out of his hands and throwing it, just to hear it hit the wall. Anything to break the silence.”
― Emily Thiede, This Vicious Grace

“My mouth went paper-dry as Alis fluffed out the sparkling train of my gown in the shadow of the garden doors. Silk and gossamer rustled and sighed, and I gripped the pale bouquet in my gloved hands, nearly snapping the stems.

Elbow-length silk gloves- to hide the marking. Ianthe had delivered them herself this morning in a velvet-lined box.

'Don't be nervous,' Alis chuckled, her tree-bark skin rich and flushed in the honey gold evening light.

'I'm not,' I rasped.

'You're fidgeting like my youngest nephew during a haircut.' She finished fussing over my dress, shooing away some servants who'd come to spy on me before the ceremony. I pretended I didn't see them or the glittering, sunset-gilded crowd seated in the courtyard ahead, and toyed with some invisible fleck on my skirts.

'You look beautiful,' Alis said quietly. I was fairly certain her thoughts on the dress were the same as my own, but I believed her.

'Thank you.'

'And you sound like you're going to your funeral.'

I plastered a grin on my face. Alis rolled her eyes. But she nudged me toward the doors as they opened on some immortal wind, lilting music streaming in. 'It's be over faster than you can blink,' she promised, and gently nudged me into the last of the sunlight.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“He just wanted a walk- and a few books. It had been an age since he'd even had free time to read, let alone do so for pleasure.

But there she was.

His mate.

She was nothing like Jesminda.

Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she'd been born into. She had teased him, taunted him- seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn't wanted anything but her. She'd seen him not as a High Lord's seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him.

Elain had been... thrown at him.

He glanced toward the tea service spread on a low-lying table nearby. 'I'm going to assume that one of those cups belongs to your sister.' Indeed, there was a discarded book in the viper's usual chair. Cauldron help the male who wound up shackled to her.

'Do you mind if I held myself to the other?'

He tried to sound casual- comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication.

Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste.

The entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

He didn't want to admit he liked it. Didn't want to admit he found the city beautiful.

That the circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family... It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be.

An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta's vacated one.

'There's a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?'

He didn't expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he'd rise from this chair and leave, hopefully avoiding Nesta's return.

But sunlight on gold caught his eye- and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window.

He had not seen her entire face since that day in Hybern.

Then, it had been drawn and terrified, then utterly blank and numb, her hair plastered to her head, her lips blue with cold and shock.

Looking at her now...

She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features.

But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully.

She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen.

Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once.

But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I have added bonemeal to my bread,' Aslog says. 'Ground just as fine as any grain. My loaves will be more famed than ever before, though not for the same reason. And if I served Queen Gliten the bones of her own consort, at her own table, what of it? It is no more than she deserves, and unlike her, I do pay my debts.'

He snorts, and she looks at him in surprise.

'Well,' he says, 'that's awful, but a little bit funny, too. I mean, did she have him with butter or jam?'

'You always did laugh when you would have been better served staying silent,' she says with a glower. 'I recall that not.'

Cardan doesn't add that he laughs when he is nervous.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“Shall we put our dance practice to some purpose?' he asks.

'Dance?' I ask, my voice coming out a little high.

His gaze goes to the circles of leaping and cavorting Folk. I wonder if he is in shock.

I have just come from betraying him. I feel rather shocked about it.

I put my hand in his as if mesmerised. There is only the warmth of his fingers against my chilly skin. His amber fox eyes, pupils wide and dark. His teeth catch his lip, as though he's nervous. I reach up and touch his cheek. Blood and freckles.

He's shaking a little. I guess if I'd done what he did, I'd still be shaking, too.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Do you have a light?" she asked.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure." He reached into his watch pocket and pulled out an old, battered Zippo. He flipped up the lid and lit it, holding it out to her with his free hand cupped to block the light breeze.
Janet inhaled a long, grateful drag. "You cannot imagine how much I needed this," she said, glancing back at her savior. He shrugged, lighting his own. They stood, smoking in silence. Then the silence seemed less companionable to Janet. Then it became uncomfortable. "I'm very nervous," she blurted out. "This is the first time I've done this."
He nodded, encouragingly. "You're very good at it. Most people cough their first time.”
― Brett D. Hainley

“She slept back-to-back with Fenris at night. No one commented. Sometimes he moved and she knew that he was also awake in the darkness, but neither of them quite had the nerve to act on it, not with Agnes and the dust-wife there. I could roll over. I could put my arm around his waist. I could...”
― T. Kingfisher, Nettle & Bone

“The crossbow is where I left it, in the drawer of Dain's desk. I draw it out, cock it back, and point it at Cardan. He draws a ragged breath.

'You're going to shoot me?' He blinks. 'Right now?'

My finger caresses the trigger. I feel calm, gloriously calm. This is weakness, to put fear above ambition, above family, above love, but it feels good. It feels like being powerful.

'I can see why you'd want to,' he says, as though reading my face, and coming to some decision. 'But I'd really prefer if you didn't.'

'Then you shouldn't have smirked at me constantly- you think I am going to stand being mocked, here, now? You still so sure you're better than me?' My voice shakes a little, and I hate him even more for it. I have trained every day to be dangerous, and he is entirely in my power, yet I'm the one who is afraid.

Fearing him is a habit, a habit I could break with a bolt to his heart.

He holds up his hands in protest, long bare fingers splayed. I am the one with the royal ring. 'I'm nervous,' he says. 'I smile a lot when I'm nervous. I can't help it.'

That is not at all what I expected him to say. I lower the crossbow momentarily.

He keeps talking, as though he doesn't want to leave me too much time to think. 'You are terrifying. Nearly my whole family is dead, and while they never had much love for me, I don't want to join them. I've spent all night worrying what you're going to do, and I know exactly what I deserve. I have a reason to be nervous.' He's talking to me as though we're friends instead of enemies. It works, too; I relax a little. When I realise that, I am nearly freaked out enough to shoot him outright.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“I put my hand against his cheek, the first intimate touch we'd had all day. His skin was chilled, his eyes bleak as they slid to me. 'I don't walk away- not from you,' I swore quietly.

His gaze softened. 'Feyre-”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I caught a bob of Rhys's throat as we cleared the final steps to the open doorway.
...
And though his face was calm, his shoulders thrown back, I said, I see all of you, Rhys. And there is not one part that I do not love with everything that I am.

His hand squeezed mine in answer before he laid my fingers on his arm, raising it enough that we must have painted a rather courtly portrait as we entered the chamber.

You bow to no one, was all he replied.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Stop looking so nervous,' Cassian muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

'I'm not nervous,' Nesta muttered back, even as she bounced on her feet, trying not to stare toward the open archway as the clock ticked toward nine.

'Just relax.' He straightened his jacket.

'You're the one fidgeting,' she hissed.

'Because you're making me fidget.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“I do get a little nervous around armed police officers, as they can kill you!”
― Steven Magee

“I was happy.
I was scared.
I was hopeful.
I was excited.
And all of those emotions were real.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

“I am never repelled or chilled, as many people are, by the cheerless self-centeredness of the nervous or the unhappy.”
― John Collier, Fancies and Goodnights

“May I write to you?' he asked.

My mouth closed. I blinked at him.

'May I write?' he sounded vaguely irritated, and I wasn't sure why.

'Yes,' I said at last. 'Of course.”
― Carissa Broadbent, Six Scorched Roses

“There is more to stuttering than the mere repetition of words and phrases. And more to anxiety than just being nervous.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Stamerenophobia

“Being nervous. Having anxiety. Stuttering. Autism. When you have any of those, at some point, you're forced to spend most of your time alone.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Stamerenophobia