Quotes About Deception

The point is … you. You're the point. I thought I knew you. I thought I knew who you were. That golden girl in the pharmacy. That girl with the lustre, the class, the elegance. The girl who'd been waiting for her prince.

What you were getting into?' 'Yeah. Damaged goods.' Rachel felt a punch to the back of her gut at these words and the burn of bile at the base of her throat. 'I'm sorry?' 'Yeah. I guess I was duped by the English accent. Fooled into thinking it somehow equated with class. Yet again.

Seems strange,' he continues. 'A girl you barely know, yet you have selfies with her on your phone and then she's cuddling up to you at the bus stop like she's your best friend.

But it's terrifying to think that I never knew her at all. Not even a tiny bit.

She thought of how she'd contorted herself and her habits and her behaviour for twenty years to be a person who would not be raped, and now she had been raped in the place where she was meant to be safe, by the person who was meant to protect her. She felt the artifice of the last twenty years of her life, the pointlessness and futility of it. She might as well have taken the shortcut, worn the tarty top, flirted with the shady guy. She might as well have lived her life free.

But you loved her, right?' 'Of course. And I still do. But it's terrifying to think that I never knew her at all. Not even a tiny bit.

Sophie does a double take. She scrolls through the comments and sees that Lexie's followers are under the impression that these are the doors to her house. That this is her home. And Lexie does nothing to correct these misapprehensions. She lets her followers believe that yes, this is where she lives.

You never really know a person until after they're dead. That's when it all comes out. All the stuff they locked up in boxes. All the secrets, all the lies. That's when you know the truth.

see what is in his eyes: the truth. He knows that Justin's suicide note is a fiction. He knows that my tears are theatrical. He knows that I killed Birdie. And he knows that I know he knows.

Yes. I know. I look like you. Crazy, eh? Can you believe it? What sort of sad loser spends his whole adult life pretending to be someone he was in love with when he was a child? You know, I even call myself Phin sometimes. Isn't that pathetic?' Phin nods, then shakes his head, then says, 'Yes. That is pretty fucked up. What are you doing here? What do you want?

She thinks, You didn't see the look he gave me just now on the stairs. You don't know how he looks at me when you're not in the room; the way his voice sets hard like stone, his eyes bore through me like lasers. You really don't know.

You never really know a person until after they're dead. That's when it all comes out. All the stuff they locked up in boxes. All the secrets, all the lies. That's when you really know the truth.

I know. I know. But still. When I think of how he treated you. How bad he made you feel. How he lied to you about everything. And now he's out and about, gallivanting with another woman. It just sickens me, Rachel. It really sickens me.

Sometimes an imitation of love can be pretty damn convincing.

Evie," Lillian interupted impatiently, "men expect to be deceived in these matters. They're happiest that way. If one were straightforward with them the whole prospect of marriage would be too alarming, and none of them would ever do it.

The guy who broke up with me... he was exactly like you, in the beginning. Charming, and nice. They're all like you in the beginning. But I always end up like this. And I can't do it anymore.

My point is, when someone is hurting you, they can call it whatever the hell they want. They can even call it love. But words lie, actions don't.

Women. You'll interpret anything as love. You see a man wearing an idiotic expression, and you assume he's been struck by Cupid's arrow when in reality, he's digesting a bad turnip.

Oh, very simple," Derek jeered. "It doesn't matter that I was born a bastard. She deserves nothing better than a man with a false name, fine clothes, and a sham accent. It's not important that I have no family and no religion. I don't believe in sacred causes, or honor, or unselfish motives. I can't be innocent enough for her. I never was. But why should that matter to her?

You're so full of it, darlin'.

As most people know, I am a vampire, so I have no reflection. Every day, I paste a picture of someone else on the mirror.

My agent is a vampire, my lawyer is a vampire, they're all vampires, but they don't suck your blood, they take your money! Vampires are everywhere. It just depends what they're running after.

A studio gangster dupes people into believing he's a tough guy, but in reality he's the former student body president and member of the National Honor Society. Once Vanilla Ice was fingered as a studio gangster, his career was over. Thank God.

I think there's a huge amount of magic on television, which is slightly vapid: there's no real meaning or message behind it; it is simply a trick.