Quotes About Concealment

Le gusta esa idea. Es una idea que nunca compartirá con nadie. Es una idea que hace que él sea él y no otro.

Truth strikes us from behind and in the dark, as well as from before and in broad daylight.

Happiness writes in white ink on a white page.

I was a screen-- I was their protector. The more I saw, the less they would.

She had a new feeling, the feeling of danger; on which a new remedy rose to meet it, the idea of an inner self or, in other words, of concealment.

I keep a band of music in my ante-room, he said once to her. It has orders to play without stopping; it renders me two excellent services. It keeps the sounds of the world from reaching the private apartments, and it makes the world think that dancing's going on within.

There was a sort of spell in the sense that nobody in the world knew where she was. It was the first time in her life that this had happened; somebody, everybody appeared to have known before, at every instant of it, where she was; so that she was now suddenly able to put it to herself that that hadn't been a life.

His egotism lay like a serpent in a bank of flowers.

I can't make out what you're up to . . . You strike me as having mysterious purposes — vast designs.

There was something deep within him that he had absolutely shown to no one—to the companion of these walks in particular not a bit more than he could help; but he was none the less haunted, under its shadow, with a dire apprehension of its publicity.

on so short an acquaintance remains shut up in his breast.  His mother, I know, went to his door

And thus it seemed to her an act of devotion to conceal her misery from him. She concealed it elaborately; she was perpetually, in their talk, hanging out curtains and arranging screens.

He should see nothing, he should learn nothing; for him she would always wear a mask.

secret of what passed between him and the strange girl who would have sacrificed her marriage to him on so short an acquaintance remains

She had effaced herself, when he first knew her; she had made herself small, pretending there was less of her than there really was. ...he would have liked her to have nothing of her own but her pretty appearance. She had too many ideas for herself, but that was what one married for, to share them with someone else.

Words are loneliness. I left a couple of words for you on the tablecloth last night—you covered them with your elbows.

When a desperate, hungry spirit appears and makes the guinea pigs squeal it is because he knows where to put the live wire of sex, because he knows that beneath the hard carapace of indifference there is concealed the ugly gash, the wound that never heals.

How can you hide from what never goes away?

An uncommon prudence is habtual with the subtler depravity, for it has everything to hide.

But when a man suspects any wrong, it sometimes happens that if he be already involved in the matter, he insensibly strives to cover up his suspicions even from himself.

A husband who submits to his wife's yoke is justly held an object of ridicule. A woman's influence ought to be entirely concealed.

As tennis players, we're ingrained from a young age to not show anything - tiredness, fear - or your opponent is going to know and you don't want that to happen.

My anonymity is something I treasure.

I just pack up my pantry with lots of Oreos and other chocolate treats to disguise the fact that I don't have Tim Tams.