Quotes About Invisibility

I cannot experience your experience. You cannot experience my experience. We are both invisible men.

In a world full of danger, to be a potentially seeable object is to be constantly exposed to danger. Self-consciousness, then, may be the apprehensive awareness of oneself as potentially exposed to danger by the simple fact of being visible to others. The obvious defence against such a danger is to make oneself invisible in one way or another.

This was what he did when Thyon Nero was near: He seized up and felt as invisible as the alchemist pretended he was. He was accustomed to cutting silence, and a cool gaze that slid past him as though he didn't exist, so the look came as a shock, and his words, when he spoke, an even greater one. "And you, Strange? Are you here to serve, or to question?" He was cordial, but his blue eyes held a brightness that filled Lazlo with dread.

Has she grown up keenly observing, scrutinizing the children around her as if she were researching the most intricate sociology report: their clothes, their games, their television shows, their preferred methods of cruelty, their figures of speech? Has she sought invisibility among them, hoped they would not notice her, because the least bit of attention could transform into physical cruelty?

Oh my God, can you see me? I thought I was wearing my invisibility cloak.

Oh my God, can you see me? I thought I was wearing my invisibility cloak." Yes I'm suave. I'm mysterious. My name is Crowe -- Nastasya Crowe.

I like being famous when it's convenient for me and completely anonymous when it's not.

I think you're the first person I've ever known . . . I might not say it right. We'll see . . . who really sees me. And I mean the whole thing of me, not just the part that fits with how they want to see me. And it seems weird to me, because the first person I met who really sees me for all of who I am . . . you know . . . can't see.

A thing too familiar becomes invisible.

I was used and tricked and thrown away, but I cannot be forgiven. It's a funny thing. You go your whole life thinking you're the protagonist, but really, you're just the backstory. The boys shrug and go on, they fight and blow things up and half of them do much worse... and still get a key to the city, and eventually you're just a story your high school boyfriend tells the kid he had with his new wife.

No one cared who they'd been before, or even who they were now. Sometimes it felt like they lived at the bottom of the world. People at the bottom of the world mind their business, mostly.

Those who praise the illusion of assimilation should be reminded that… "The privilege of assimilation is that you are left alone. But assimilation should not be mistaken for power, because once you have acquired power, you are exposed and your model minority qualifications that helped you in the past, can be used against you, since you are no longer invisible.

The privilege of assimilation is that you are left alone. But assimilation must not be mistaken for power, because once you have acquired power, you are exposed, and your model minority qualifications that helped you in the past can be used against you, since you are no longer invisible

Asians lack presence. Asians take up apologetic space. We don't even have enough presence to be considered real minorities. We're not racial enough to be token. We're so post-racial we're silicon.

She, however, stood and said nothing. / Small, unnoticed, she stood in the crowd, listened, and said / nothing.

Even in a city as small as Ferrara, you can manage, if you like, to disappear for years and years, one from another, living side by side like the dead

Let me be like a thing left in a corner and forgotten

This was a small taste of a general problem: the invisibility in the media of the many women of color who pioneered the women's movement.

Technology has become as ubiquitous as the air we breathe, so we are no longer conscious of its presence.

Housework is something you do that nobody notices until you don't do it.

Not everyone has a voice. Many outsiders cannot speak through walls, and, as a consequence, they become silent and invisible. Some give up their voices willingly. Others cannot face the ferocious silence of their lives; so they replace their genuine voices with incomprehensible shrieks of rage. They bombard the wall with wrath or batter it with explosives. The silence is broken by their rage, but nothing changes. They remain outsiders who are desperate to be allowed into the world.

When I was in Beck's world, I felt like the little sister. I'm in the big brother's room with all his friends. You just hang out and keep your mouth shut so they don't realize you're there and kick you out. I like being in situations where I can be an underdog, where I can be in the corner and observe and soak it in.

I'm tired of being underrated. I'm tired of being overlooked.

I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.