Quotes About Concealment

The eye sockets of their skulls are dark, like they've got all the night inside their heads.

This was the kind of girl who gestured big and talked big and showed her emotions big, but she wasn't really showing anything. All her actions turned out to be one big flirt. But, if you paid attention, as I did, it became obvious that she was flirting with no one. She was keeping all her real passion on reserve. That's how I knew she was a lesbian.

Addie zipped open her computer case, found a USB cord, and tossed it through the back window so it landed on the seat next to him. "What's this for?" Kris asked, holding the cord. Darn. He found it too soon. "Thank you," she said. "I must have dropped it." "You just threw it in.

She raised her head when she heard my step, and her gaze met my own, over the matron's dipping shoulder, and her eyes grew bright. I knew then how hard it had been to keep, not just from Millbank but from her. I felt that little quickening. It was just as I imagine a woman must feel, when the baby within her gives its first kick. Does it matter if I feel that, that is so small, and silent, and secret?

felt that little quickening. It was just as I imagine a woman must feel, when the baby within her gives its first kick. Does it matter if I feel that, that is so small, and silent, and secret?

Hate you!' I said. 'When I have fifty proper reasons for hating you, already; and only—' Only love you, I wanted to say. I didn't say it, though. What can I tell you? If she could still be proud, then so, for now, could I . . . I didn't need to say it, anyway: she could read the words in my face.

I had loved Kitty -I would always love Kitty. But I had lived with her a kind of queer half-life, hiding from my own true self. Since then I had refused to love at all, had become - or so I thought - a creature beyond passion, driving others to their secret, humiliating confessions of lust; but never offering my own.

The man has more masks than a whole troupe of Italian players.

Sometimes it's not good for people to find out who you really are.

The irony is that the more they achieve and the better they do, the less people are inclined to believe them, and the more they feel forced to then stay in the closet.

Feelings were best tucked out of sight where they couldn't get in anyone's way.

I wanted to tell him more. I had the fleeting desire to tell him a lot more, but old habits and the fear of revealing too much made the words congeal in my throat.

reality is often little more than a mirror reflecting visions made of ice and steel cold permanent and carefully contrived

My job was to make sure that my pain was not visible to the audience. They came to escape their troubles, not to be drawn into my own pain.

I have always found the presumptions of others to be the best possible disguise—haven't you?

the best disguises were those that were poured out of the heart rather than painted on the face.

But what the fuck ... ever gave you the idea that Locke was the first name I was actually born with?

Let us speak behind our hands, lest our lips be read as the book of our designs, and let us find some place where only gods and rats may hear our words aloud.

There was no point in stealing well or wisely if the loot couldn't be stashed somewhere safe.

Oh, just let it out. I don't care how it looks; it'll be hidden in the back of my cloak anyway. We can pretty it up later." "We?" Jean snorted as he loosened the doublet with a few strategic rips and slashes. "Me, more like. You mend clothes like dogs write poetry.

all a pretty face does is hide the ugly underneath, don't it?

Because all a pretty face does is hide the ugly underneath, don't it?

suppose you're going to lie about your maggot pudding, and that's why you've hidden it away. Because you're so proud." "Oh, no," she said. "The Reverend's coming, and he's a vegetarian, so he can't have maggots.

When a room at the CIA headquarters is secret, a secret from people who spend their lives creating and breaking secrets, that's some pretty serious black-ops shit.