Quotes About Concealment

Was everybody seeing this stuff and acting as though they weren't? Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act? If some people didn't see these things, what was the matter with them? Were they blind or something?

Scar tissue has no character. It's not like skin. It doesn't show age or illness or pallor or tan. IT has no pores, no hair, no wrinkles. It's like a slipcover. It shields and disguises what's beneath. That's why we grow it; we have something to hide.

Scar tissue has no character. It's not like skin. It doesn't show age or illness or pallor or tan. It has no pores, no hair, no wrinkles. It's like a slipcover. It shields and disguises what's beneath. That's why we grow it; we have something to hide.

This clarity made me able to behave normally, which posed some interesting questions. Was everybody seeing this stuff and acting as though they weren't? Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act?

Il tessuto della cicatrice non ha carattere. Non è come la pelle. Non rivela età, malattia, pallore, o colorito. Non ha pori, né peli, né rughe. È come una fodera. Protegge e maschera quello che c'è sotto. Per questo ce lo facciamo crescere; abbiamo qualcosa da nascondere.

Detrás de la máscara de la libertad se esconde frecuentemente la dejadez, el deseo de no implicarse.

She pursed her lips. Satisfied I'm not carrying a concealed weapon? I have no idea where you'd keep one, if you were, he returned, sliding his gaze along the length of her. Thanks for noticing.

besides, everyone knows you hate Lord Dare." And everyone thought it was merely because he had kissed her and then she'd found out that he'd done it to try to win a wager. No one knew differently: not her aunt, not her friends, not the noblemen of the haut ton—no one but Tristan Carroway. And she intended to keep it that way.

She would just tell us what she wanted," recalled Elvis's cook, Mary Jenkins. "One time she said, 'I want a different cake every day of the week, but don't tell Mama—she'll put me on a diet.

how beautifully he unveiled the spiritual mysteries while skillfully hiding his identity

Force, no matter how concealed, begets resistance—Lakota

There was something sweet in watching him pull himself back together, restoring the façade he wore for the world while I knew at least a little of the man beneath it.

And yet I understood the alienation of being around others who couldn't really see you or chose not to. I'd felt the self-loathing that came with being a fraud, protraying an image of what you wished you could be but weren't. I'd lived with the fear that people you loved might turn away from you if they ever got to know the true person hidden inside.

The more hopeless you were, the further away they hid you.

Let me not be weak and tell others how bleeding I am internally; how day by day it drips, and gathers, and congeals.

My heroine would be myself, only in disguise.

Shut up in public those bloody private wounds.

The more hopeless you were, the farther away they hid you.

The still waters Wrap my lips, Eyes, nose and ears, A clear Cellophane I cannot crack.

I felt it was very important not to be recognized.

How clever of them, I thought. They kept the feeling all secret; they wouldn't even let you write it down.

My biggest trouble is that people look at me and think that no serious trouble has ever troubled my little head. They seldom realize the chaos that seethes behind my exterior. As for the who Am I, what am I angle...that will preoccupy me till the day I die.

I certainly learned a lot of things I never would have learned otherwise this way, and even when they surprised me or made me sick I never let on, but pretended that's the way I knew things were all the time.

My ribs show. What have I eaten? Lies and smiles.