Quotes About Mask

The priest rubbed his bruised shoulder, the eyes within the feline mask glaring at Stonny. At Gruntle's words he faced the Daru again. 'These are not matters open to debate, Mortal Sword. You are what you are-' 'I'm a caravan guard captain, and damned good at it. When I'm sober, that is.' 'You are the master of war in the name of the Lord of Summer-' "We'll call that a hobby.

An assassin should never see the face behind the victim's mask.

Lostara was coming to believe that Tavore was afflicted with something else. She behaved as would a widow, the kind that then made mourning a way of life, a ritualized assembly of habits. The light of day had become a thing to turn away from. A gesture of invitation was answered with muttered regrets. And the sorrowing mask never left her face.

She behaved as would a widow, the kind that then made mourning a way of life, a ritualized assembly of habits. The light of day had become a thing to turn away from. A gesture of invitation was answered with muttered regrets. And the sorrowing mask never left her face.

Failure wears many guises, and I have worn them all.

In truth, every one of us leads a double life. We act one way when the door is open, another when it's closed. We have certain impressions we try to make on others, pretenses we strive to keep up.

We wear our troubles on our faces, Varencienne thought, then imagined herself with frozen agony in the set of her mouth.

These people look like actors and their domains are stage sets.

His face was a leering mask, all vestige of beauty fled.

I only put soap on my face once a day, in the evening, and I'll add in a face mask or exfoliating product ever so often.

This most dangerous enemy is the American counterpart of the British Fabian Socialist, who denies that he is a Socialist and operates behind a mask which he calls National Planning.

Peter Sellers was a solitary character, always preferring to hide behind a mask, and consequently, you never really got to know the real Sellers.

Some people have an identity. I have an alibi. I have a shadow self.

When you wear a mask, you are not real.

Because sometimes evil didn't show its ugly self; it could put on the clothes of an ordinary boy. The boy could sit across the table from you, a stray lock of hair hanging in his eyes. He could be doing all the regular things boys do, shoveling in the mashed potatoes, pushing the peas around on his plate, preferring peach cobbler over rhubarb in the late summer while the wasps batted the window screen and the fan on the sideboard rotated.

Another is the despair and emptiness they feel inside. I'm okay, they tell you. I'm fine.

My mother, wore the mask, she thought as she napped the neck of the lead enforcer. And now I wear it. But it is not all that I am. Her friends -- her family -- were disarming the enforcers, or killing them before they could react. Some carried simple fishing knives loaned by the locals, and others had grabbed their own weapons from the sand. They were improving, adapting, and surviving, the way Enfys's mother had taught them. They underestimate us, and that is why they lose

You are who you pretend to be.

His favorite hero was El Látigo Negro, the Black Whip. El Látigo Negro was on TV every Saturday. He wore a black mask and rescued poor people from evil capitalists.

Her beautiful face was blank as an unwritten book.

It was bizarre to see the expectation that mothers-to-be must be "masked" as they were in labor. Everyone in the birthing community teaches the critical importance of breathing correctly, for safe births. That well-documented central belief was dropped by the right-on obstetric and doula community overnight.

La llama iluminó por primera vez su semblante. Se me heló el alma. Aquel personaje no tenía nariz, ni labios, ni párpados. Su rostro era apenas una máscara de piel negra y cicatrizada, devorada por el fuego.

Mit der Zeit verschwinden sogar die schlechten Erinnerungen hinter einer weißen Maske.

My blood froze. He had no nose, lips, or eyelids. His face was nothing but a mask of black scarred skin, consumed by fire. It was the same dead skin that Clara had touched.