Quotes About Concealment

It would not do to tell other people, not just because they wouldn't believe but because they wouldn't care.

I once heard about some millionaire who had a stolen Rembrandt in his basement where no one but him could see it. I could understand that guy. I don't mean that Arnie was a Rembrandt, or even a world-class wit, but I could understand the attraction of knowing about something good ... something that was good but still a secret.

There is a certain mentality that believes in covering up. They believe in it with the sincerity and fanaticism that members of some religious groups believe in the divinity of Jesus. Because, for some people, the necessity to continue covering up even after the damage is done is all-important.

Their faces were zealously blank, their eyes filled with bland fire.

Because there really is a second world. It exists because people refuse to believe it's there.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. But it didn't matter, if no one knew.

I figure the more people think I'm just mildly weird, the less likely they are to know how weird I really am.

I hate that our world makes it look like everyone is perfect but you. Each and every one of us is human. Why are all the flaw that we all have hidden like they're not real?

All these people moving through life, all around me, and no one, not a single person, knows what I'm going through.

The things I do are known to the world, but why I do them is my secret alone.

My heart's in the right place. I know, 'cuz I hid it there.

The sweetest smiles hold the darkest secrets.

I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.

It is unbearably painful for the soul to love silently.

One of the things I love about acting is that it reveals a certain something about yourself, but it doesn't reveal your own personal story.

Didn't you know that people hide love like a flower too precious to be picked?

As far as I'm concerned, I prefer silent vice to ostentatious virtue.

I pretended indifference…even in the presence of love, in the presence of hunger. And the more deeply I felt, the less able I was to respond.

Shame is the shadow of love.

The other dolls sat upon the shelf and looked straight before them, for it would never do to let grown-up men know that dolls were really alive.

Reality, it seems, is not a flat plane, but has as many veils as an onion has skins.

All the stuff that was important or interesting about me was what I couldn't share.

Do you know how hard it is to say nothing? When every atom of you strains to do the opposite?

Had he actually possessed the ability simply to airbrush an entire daughter out of his conscience?