It is not the surrounding dark with its things that go bump that causes fear to grip my heart. It is not the cold, tentacle-like fingers of age and decline that causes fear to crease my face. It is not the truth, universally acknowledged of the ever-present demise of life that causes fear to wrack my brain. It is not the foregone conclusion that mankind is coming undone that causes fear to prick my consciousness. It is the knowledge that my success or failure rests solely on the shoulders of one who allows fear to have any place at all.