Masks Quotes

Do you act the same in society as you do in private? Do you speak to everyone the same way?""No, no quite," I replied, wincing. "Of course. No one does. You put on one disguise for society. You put on another for your sister. For your parents. Your customer the other night." I felt my face warm. "But what about in private? Anyone can be themselves then without--ah! Ow!-- without putting on an act." “We do not remain the same each minute to the next. Every word you hear, every sight you see, every smell, every thought you have, every moment—it all changes you. We keep putting on mask after mask, layers over layers. That’s how one grows.

I believe in my mask-- The man I made up is meI believe in my dance-- And my destiny

Horror is the removal of masks.

It comes down to this: If you want to be seen, heard and understood in the most genuine way possible, be open to the possiblity of vulnerability. Allow yourself to be open. I know it’s a scary place, a place very few people dare to venture, but just try it. Try moving the masks away and really looking at a person the next time they engaged in conversation with you.

His face was neither handsome nor anything else. It just was.

It's good to see the snakes revealing themselves. They weren't actually hidden at all. People hide behind the masks, but eventually you see them for who they truly are.

Lie long enough and eventually you'll believe yourself.

Masks. - There are women who, however you may search them, prove to have no content but are purely masks. The man who associates with such almost spectral, necessarily unsatisfied beings is to be commiserated with, yet it is precisely they who are able to arouse the desire of the man most strongly: he seeks for her soul - and goes on seeking.

There’s no such thing as a good or bad person: there are just people who have each been or seem to have been good or bad to you, someone, or some people, thus far.

One sip of this wine and you will go mad with drunkenness. You will drop your masks and tear your clothes — destroying everything that separates you from the Lover. Once you taste the fruit of this vine, you will be kicked out of the city of yourself. You will forget the world. You will forget yourself. I tell you: you will become a madman who wanders the streets looking for the Lover once you drink this Wine of Love.

A douchebag has an image to maintain. He is not real. He is the kind of guy who will change his last name into something cooler and more impressive.

I hid my wound under my clothes. Nobody could see it, including myself, and I completely forgot about it. Then I met someone who, filled with love, held me tight in that point. The pain was devastating, and I hated him, o how much I hated him, the cause of all my suffering. Then I met someone, beautifully dressed, and I loved him so much, holding him tight with all my passion. And he suffered badly, and he hated me, o how much he hated me, the cause of all his pain. So the story went on till I met someone who undressed himself, standing completely naked, with all his horrible wounds. Hence I also undressed, and I saw my horrible wounds, which he could also see. Then...

People do not change. It is just that they change the masks they wear and the acts they put on, with new costumes, new dialogues and new settings.That is human nature.

There are a great number of ego defenses, and the combinations and circumstances in which we use them reflect on our personality. Indeed, one could go so far as to argue that the self is nothing but the sum of its ego defenses, which are constantly shaping, upholding, protecting, and repairing it.The self is like a cracked mask that is in constant need of being pieced together. But behind the mask there is nobody at home.

Something happens to people when they're masked. They become too free, uncivilized. They may do anything.

I fear the many faces, many personalities in me. Sometimes I fail to understand my self and become deceived by my various selves.

Emotions don’t interfere in my acting, nor in my life.

What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music.She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself."I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.

It was like a mask had been pulled away from his face, uncovering a monster hidden beneath his friendly façade.

We deny more than we confess. We hide more than we reveal. We assume because it makes us feel exposed if we have to ask. It's easier to say "I feel nothing" than to admit "I feel something." It takes no courage to say, "I hate you" but it takes a great deal of moxie to declare its opposite. Masks are elaborate and everyone has one. It takes a while to get to know people. This doesn't make them special, it makes them like everyone else. Sometimes our hearts scream yes while our heads say run; and only one can be obeyed.

On Saturday afternoons I used to go for a walk with my mother. From the dusk of the hallway, we stepped at once into the brightness of the day. The passerby, bathed in melting gold, had their eyes half-closed against the glare, as if they were drenched with honey, upper lips were drawn back, exposing the teeth. Everyone in this golden day wore that grimace of heat–as if the sun had forced his worshippers to wear identical masks of gold. The old and the young, women and children, greeted each other with these masks, painted on their faces with thick gold paint; they smiled at each other's pagan faces–the barbaric smiles of Bacchus.

Like icebergs, people normally expose only a small part of themselves, and generally just the part they wish to show.

Let's don't join the mask to say the truth and without a mask to say the lie. DON't BE a such pussy, people which are an idiots, stupid and... they do this. You aren't one of them, unless you join them and you be part of them. Truth always goes with us, it follows and always can be found, the lie is just masks, one over another, over another and what happens in the end... You even don't know with which guy did you sleep, was this guy with you yesterday or you were in date with other??

People with depression can't just snap out of it or "turn that frown upside down." Depression can be a painful and overwhelming state that makes one unable to function, to think clearly or reasonably, or to want to simply face another day. Many people suffer alone and in silence because they are scared or ashamed. They feel weak…or pitiful. How can a person be incapable of having joy? “Why can’t I just have a good time? Why can’t I get on with it?

The irony of life is that those who wear masks often tell us more truths than those with open faces.

The mask's back in place. The heard-it-all smile. The seen-it-all eyes.

Who was the real me? I can only repeat: I was a man of many faces.At meetings I was earnest, enthusiastic, and committed; among friends, unconstrained and given to teasing; with Marketa, cynical and fitfully witty; and alone (and thinking of Marketa), unsure of myself and as agitated as a schoolboy.Was the last face the real one?No. They were all real: I was not a hypocrite, with one real face and several false ones. I had several faces because I was young and didn’t know who I was or wanted to be. (I was frightened by the differences between one face and the next; none of them seemed to fit me properly, and I groped my way clumsily among them.)

Like a Columbus of the heart, mind and soul I have hurled myself off the shores of my own fears and limiting beliefs to venture far out into the uncharted territories of my inner truth, in search of what it means to be genuine and at peace with who I really am. I have abandoned the masquerade of living up to the expectations of others and explored the new horizons of what it means to be truly and completely me, in all my amazing imperfection and most splendid insecurity.

If you could choose any mask to wear right now, what would it be?” Anne lay down her yarn. “I suppose if, as you say, I would grow into this mask, then I would make it of my own face . . . but a braver, better version of myself.” “And what would this braver Anne do?” The answer came quickly, as if it had been there all along. I’d save them, she thought.

Leaving the group, he reclined on a couch, drank morosely, and watched people. He noticed the games they played with one another. They put on masks of civility, all while spewing their venom.

A successful actor is praised for never giving up his dreams to become someone else for a living but to dream to be an unmasked artist is a mortal sin in a consumerist society. Artists don't consume; they create things that can’t be consumed with riches. You consume art by seeing, by listening, by feeling, never by buying.

So it became,the law of universe,to have the,profoundest,of the words,cloaked in the,darkest of the masks.

The whole of history is the history of murderers. If you become a murderer, fame will be very easy. You can become a prime minister, you can become a president—but these are all masks. Behind them you will find very violent people, terribly violent people hiding, smiling. Those smiles are political, diplomatic. If the mask slips, you will always see Genghis Khan, Tamerlane, Nadir Shah, Napoleon, Alexander, Hitler, hiding behind.

You may plainly perceive the traitor through his mask; he is well known every-where in his true colors; his rolling eyes and his honeyed tones impose only on those who do not know him. People are aware that this low-bred fellow, who deserves to be pilloried, has, by the dirtiest jobs, made his way in the world; and that the splendid position he has acquired makes merit repine and virtue blush. Yet whatever dishonourable epithets may be launched against him everywhere, nobody defends his wretched honour. Call him a rogue, an infamous wretch, a confounded scoundrel if you like, all the world will say “yea, ” and no one contradicts you. But for all that, his bowing and scraping are welcome everywhere; he is received, smiled upon, and wriggles himself into all kinds of society; and, if any appointment is to be secured by intriguing, he will carry the day over a man of the greatest worth. Zounds! these are mortal stabs to me, to see vice parleyed with; and sometimes times I feel suddenly inclined to fly into a wilderness far from the approach of men.

Do you think you wear a mask?’‘I’m wearing one right now.’ Valentino smiled softly. ‘We both are.’‘It’s a sad thought.’‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But sometimes I wonder about the alternative. Imagine if we had no secrets, no respite from the truth. What if everything was laid bare the moment we introduced ourselves?

What I wear on and off stage is my mask. You see, a mask doesn't hide you, it exposes you.

Only by concealing our identities can we shed the masks we have to wear at school, at work, even at home - everywhere there is surveillance, policing, punishment - masks that are increasingly indistinguishable from ourselves.

Be a man! Put on a mask.

Seven times have I despised my soul: The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not that it was one of her own masks.

She had blue skin,And so did he.He kept it hidAnd so did she.They searched for blueTheir whole life through,Then passed right by-And never knew.

No matter how "normal" people look, living "ordinary" lives, everyone has a story to tell. And may be, just like you, everyone else is a misfit too.

I always am in a role, lovely – for you, for them – even for myself. Yeah... Even when I’m alone, I am still in a role – and I myself am the most exacting audience I have ever had.

Doubtless some ancient Greek has observed that behind the big mask and the speaking-trumpet, there must always be our poor little eyes peeping as usual and our timorous lips more or less under anxious control.

Was Briony the only person who could hear the venom dripping from the woman’s tongue? What good was beauty — a mature beauty, but beauty nonetheless — if it cloaked such a viperous soul?

How beautiful the tragic seems when it is beneath a mask, but when it appears so nakedly before me and... when I am so forcibly implicated... I don't know whether I care for it so much. Somehow or other it is as though I were torturing myself.("Thirty-Three Abominations")

A red nose is the clown's mask and my moustache is mine.

Modern man has too many masks to wear. We must unmask and be ourselves, sincerely, earnestly and live truly as we are,

One day you wake up and realize the world can be conquered... I'm going to put a mask on and scrawl my name across the face of the world, build cities of gold, come back and stomp this place flat, until even the bricks are just dust. So you can just shut up. All of you. I'm going to move the world.

I wonder. If I had you wear that mask today, Anne, would you find the courage to tell me what is troubling you?" Anne would very much have liked to confide in her father, but where in the world would she begin? He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I will tell you a secret, my dear. All of my children are shy. They have simply learned the art of wearing masks.

I know it all, and I still love you." That is the convicting, convincing, liberating truth that comes from an encounter with Christ: all is known; there is no need to pretend anymore. I wrestled with that truth. It's hard to lay aside a mask when it looks just like you, and you have worn it for so long that you can't remember what you look like without it.

Typically, in politics, more than one horse is owned and managed by the same team in an election. There's always and extra candidate who will slightly mimic the views of their team's opposing horse, to cancel out that person by stealing their votes just so the main horse can win. Elections are puppet shows. Regardless of their rainbow coats and many smiles, the agenda is one and the same.

Once I knew nothing about McKay and now I knew everything about him. This seemed as good as any reason for not walking out the door. There are so many ways to stop the knowing, and I tried them all. I tried silence, I tried heroin, I tried calling it love. And then I stopped trying to call my dumbness any one of ten thousand names.

We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.

Everybody put on masks, including you and me. We all wear masks.

Give a man a mask, and he'll tell you deeper and darker truths. But he'll also be more abusive, unaccountable, and demonic.

Let's burn our masks at midnightand as flickering flames ascend,under the witness of star-clouds,let us vow to reclaim our true selves.Done with hiding and weary of lying,we'll reconcile without and within.Then, like naked squint-eyed newborns,we'll greet the glorious birth of dawn;blinking at the blazing, wondrous colorswe somehow failed to notice before.

A charm invests a faceImperfectly beheld,—The lady dare not lift her veilFor fear it be dispelled.But peers beyond her mesh,And wishes, and denies,—Lest interview annul a wantThat image satisfies.

Michael Varus drew his sword. ''My father is Janus, the god of two faces. I am used to seeing through masks and deceptions.

Even I don’t know myself... In fact, I don’t know if I really have a self at all, as I’m constantly playing different roles and pretending – not so much on stage as in real life...

We tried to make a heaven of earth,But the earth is just a stage, a school,Where we wear our masks and play our rolesAnd teach each other how to love.