“To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself.”

Variant: You shouldn't dare a person who doesn't have anything left to lose.
Source: Kiss an Angel

My Dear and only Love. Compare: "That puts it not unto the touch/ To win or lose it all", Sir W. F. P. Napier, Montrose and the Covenanters, vol. ii. p. 566.

Source: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1962), Ch. 5
Context: Maybe not you, buddy, but the rest are even scared to open up and laugh. You know, that's the first thing that got me about this place, that there wasn't anybody laughing. I haven't heard a real laugh since I came through that door, do you know that? Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing.

Statement of 1937 or earlier, as quoted in The New Speaker's Treasury of Wit and Wisdom (1958) edited by Herbert Victor Prochnow
Context: Rebellion against your handicaps gets you nowhere. Self-pity gets you nowhere. One must have the adventurous daring to accept oneself as a bundle of possibilities and undertake the most interesting game in the world — making the most of one's best.

Source: The Chronicles of Prydain (1964–1968), Book V : The High King (1968), Chapter 20
Source: The Black Cauldron
Context: Orgoch gave a most ungentle snort. Orddu, meanwhile, had unfolded a length of brightly woven tapestry and held it out to Taran.
“We came to bring you this, my duckling,” she said. “Take it and pay no heed to Orgoch’s grumbling. She’ll have to swallow her disappointment—for lack of anything better.”
“I have seen this on your loom,” Taran said, more than a little distrustful. “Why do you offer it to me? I do not ask for it, nor can I pay for it.”
“It is yours by right, my robin,” answered Orddu. “It does come from our loom, if you insist on strictest detail, but it was really you who wove it.”
Puzzled, Taran looked more closely at the fabric and saw it crowded with images of men and women, of warriors and battles, of birds and animals. “These,” he murmured in wonder, “these are of my own life.”
“Of course,” Orddu replied. “The pattern is of your choosing and always was.”
“My choosing?” Taran questioned. “Not yours? Yet I believed...” He stopped and raised his eyes to Orddu. “Yes,” he said slowly, “once I did believe the world went at your bidding. I see now it is not so. The strands of life are not woven by three hags or even by three beautiful damsels. The pattern indeed was mine. But here,” he added, frowning as he scanned the final portion of the fabric where the weaving broke off and the threads fell unraveled, “here it is unfinished.”
“Naturally,” said Orddu. “You must still choose the pattern, and so must each of you poor, perplexed fledglings, as long as thread remains to be woven.”

Raimon to Regina. p. 31
All Men are Mortal (1946)

Original: (it) Ama osare, osa rischiare. Sempre.
Source: From the radio show Memories http://www.m2o.it/special/memories-reloaded/ conducted by Prevale

Original: ​Ama osare, osa lottare. Sempre.
Source: prevale.net