I find I have to be the sad clown: laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.
It reminds me of myself - seemingly perfect on the outside but inside is all a mush.
Love, love, love - all the wretched cant of it, masking egotism, lust, masochism, fantasy under a mythology of sentimental postures.
..we wear the mask that grins and lies, it hides our cheeks and shades our eyes- this debt we pay to human guile; with torn and bleeding hearts we smile.
Fake confidence on the outside often trumps truthful turmoil on the inside.
It's amazing what you can hide just by putting on a smile.
That's the illusion - the idea that you can be all right on the inside and not act it out - and it has affected us in many ways. That's a part of the idea that professing is enough.
My defenses were so great. The cocky rock and roll hero who knows all the answers was actually a terrified guy who didn't know how to cry. Simple.
A lot of people that are always trying to be funny and "on" and performing are just hiding. It's just a cover for what they really are and how they really feel.
Some people wear their smile like a disguise. Those people who smile a lot, watch their eyes. I know 'cause I'm like that a lot. You think everything's ok, and it is . . . 'till it's not.
Pain is joy when it cries, it's my smile in disguise.
The mirror can lie. Doesn't show you what's inside. And it, it can tell you you're full of life. It's amazing what you can hide just by putting on a smile.
Everyone's more vulnerable than they seem, and I think men are more vulnerable. Once you get close to a man, the whole thing's a facade anyway. I think manhood is fragile.
A smile is the best way to get away with trouble even if it’s a fake one.
No man can smile in the face of adversity and mean it.
I pretend I'm not hurt, I walk about the world like I'm having fun.
He wore his happiness like a mask and the girl had run off across the lawn with the mask and there was no way of going to knock on her door and ask for it back.
To the casual observer it looks like I have moved on since I go around wearing my little happy mask all day. I smile and laugh and carry on like my heart's still in one piece, but beneath it all, I am dying.
It must be hard being you,” she said. “Mr. Perfect on the outside. Dr. Evil on the inside.” “It’s not that hard. The rest of the world isn’t as insightful as you.
Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she would rather have cried.
Dying on the inside, but outside you're looking fearless
Sentimentality is a superstructure covering brutality.
But to appear happy when I am so miserable — Oh! who can require it?
...[P]eople who shout joy from the rooftops are often the saddest of all... (p.24)
The human face is a weak guarantee; yet it deserves some consideration. And if I had to whip the wicked, I would do so more severely to those who belied and betrayed the promises that nature had implanted on their brows; I would punish malice more harshly when it was hidden under a kindly appearance.
