I was taking a nap that afternoon, when my cat jumped into the open window and started howling for no apparent reason. The reason became apparent about a minute later...

The thing I would observe, having been in many earthquakes, is that the motion of the ground by itself is unlikely to hurt you, unless you hit your head or break a limb falling down. The sudden movements a few feet in any direction are less violent than a roller-coaster ride, and usually I keep my feet by adopting a wide-legged stance and walking like I'm on the deck of a ship in moderately high seas. I remember, in 1989, staggering down the hallway like that, arms out to each side and pushing off each wall as I was shaken from side-to-side.

It's the falling stuff that does the damage, and it's mostly of human construction. Hillsides can lose structural integrity and slip, but that pales in comparison to the thousands of buildings that can potentially collapse, and the millions of infrastructure artifacts like power poles and signs and bridges than can fall on your head. In an earthquake, if you're on the ground, look up to see where the greatest danger might come from. If you're off the ground, say in a high building, look up for higher stuff that can fall on you...but as for down, I can't think of anything else you can do but hang on and hope that the floor doesn't collapse under you. I've never experienced an earthquake in a highrise, and I hope I never do.

I guess the point I'm trying to make here is that earthquakes are an unusual sort of natural disaster, in that the damage they do (to people) is multiplied through the instrument of human artifacts. Stand on an acre of open ground and an earthquake would startle you, maybe even bruise you if you fall down. Hit that acre of land with a tsunami, hurricane, tornado, golf-ball sized hail, or almost any other natural disaster, and you're toast.