You may say suicide is a loss of control and cowardly. Foolish as it may sound, I am prepared to argue.

I’m the kind of guy who puts other people first. Particularly if there’s danger up ahead. Now I’m not saying I’m any more cowardly than the next man, unless that next man is any other...

Fight or flight? If I had wings, there’d be no choice. But since I don’t have wings, I have to rely on my cape, and a long running start.

Most people fight with their fists. But I fight with my legs. I fight to stay, but they fight to run. Luckily for them, I don’t fight very hard.

I am that coward male who reminds myself each day that I am the man , takes my penis out and masturbate till i ejaculate the infused fears thinking her…And standing along with the crowds...

There are times when it is more courageous to be cowardly.

To not do what you can to protect someone, that’s cowardly.

You feed your fears to grow muscles against you when you run away from what frightens you. Little do you know that it’s frightened when you face it boldly!

Not enough youths fighting windmills. And the old are fearful, jaded or dead. Do not ask me what to do. I am just as cowardly as you. And do not tell me it is enough...

I’m not courageous. In fact, when I shadow box I wear boxing gloves that are outfitted with flashlights.

A coward’s gun is emptied when fear pulls the trigger, and hate is the ammunition of choice.

Some people say—not to my face, mind you—that I’m a cowardly son of a bitch. And that is simply not true. My mom is not a bitch.

Guilt is a lazy feeling that takes no action; the wings of integrity are the only thing that sets it free.

Dad scowls. “Phen.” He says the name like it’s a swear word. “Disgusting, cowardly creatures, the ambivalent. Worse than the fallen, in many ways.” His eyes are so fierce it’s a tad scary. “They have...