Quotes About Mask

As a matter of fact, I rarely ever play myself.

Belize is so raw and so clear and so in-your-face. There's an opportunity to see something about human nature that you can't really see in a politer society, because the purpose of society is to mask ourselves from each other.

There is the real person I am, and there is the stage persona.

Any real person has a front and a real part to themselves.

All people are sad clowns. That's the key to comedy - and it's a buffer against reality.

I love a mask. It's why I've got a thing about good writing. When you're acting, you're going into someone else's work. You're behind his words; it's not you.

I like the original 'Halloween.'

My mother, daroga, my poor, unhappy mother would never... let me kiss her... She used to run away... and throw me my mask!... Nor any other woman... ever, ever!... Ah, you can understand, my happiness was so great, I cried. And fell at her feet, crying... and I kissed her feet... her little feet... crying. You're crying, too, daroga... and she cried also... the angel cried!...

None will ever be true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows...

We recognize the touch of the Opera ghost.

In Paris, our lives are one masked ball;

When I opened my eyes, we were still surrounded by darkness. A lantern, standing on the ground, showed a bubbling well. The water splashing from the well disappeared, almost at once, under the floor on which I was lying, with my head on the knee of the man in the black cloak and the black mask. He was bathing my temples and his hands smelt of death. I tried to push them away and asked, 'Who are you? Where is the voice?' His only answer was a sigh.

None will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom or indifference over his inward joy.

Celui-là ne sera jamais Parisien qui n'aura point appris à mettre un masque de joie sur ses douleurs et le « loup » de la tristesse, de l'ennui ou de l'indifférence sur son intime allégresse.

Maskemin ard?nda gizlenen bu aÅŸk? yaln?zca sen görebilirsin...

No one will ever be a Parisian without learning to put a mask of joy over his sorrows and a mask of sadness, boredom, or indifference over his inner joy. . . Parisians are always at a masked ball . . .

And the voice, the voice which I had recognized under the mask, was on its knees before me was a man ! And I began to cry... The man, still kneeling, must have understood the cause of my tears, for he said, 'It is true, Christine!... I am not an Angel, nor a genius, nor a ghost... I am Erik!

Everybody remarked that the retiring managers looked cheerful, as is the Paris way. None will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom or indifference over his inward joy.

Doubtless some ancient Greek has observed that behind the big mask and the speaking-trumpet, there must always be our poor little eyes peeping as usual and our timorous lips more or less under anxious control.

Hannibal Lecter stole Leatherface's mask and ported the slasher conventions into the thriller for the early '90s.

Meg reached out to Erik before he could turn away. "Are you...?" He didn't let her finish. Instead he reached inside the carriage and placed his hand tenderly behind her neck drawing her to his face. He placed hi lips softly, yet passionately on her. Hardly had he withdrawn from hers then he whispered, "Forgive me, Meg. Forgive me for wanting...?" "Ssshhh. You're here. I'm here." She raised her handkerchief and wiped the lone tear that had escaped his mask.

I'm a new man, Giovanni. If you want to imitate me, you'll have to abandon the mask and get a face like this one." Erik smiled mirthlessly at his young nemesis, his teeth shining madly in the dim light of piazza. "You can't have her! She loves me. The mask won't do. You could never giver what she wants, because she wants me!" Giovanni tried to follow Meg and Roul, but each time he shifted Erik was there.

La diferencia entre ponerse una máscara, que siempre es ocasión de libertad, y que le obliguen a uno a ponérsela, es la misma que hay entre refugio y cárcel.

I believe in my mask-- The man I made up is me I believe in my dance-- And my destiny