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.

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.

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.

I hated meatloaf. It was like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. So I told Mom because I was honest that way. I sat back, squared my shoulders, and met her eyes, all confident-like."Mom, meatloaf's like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. It should be outlawed, frankly, and serving it for dinner is like child abuse and should carry with it some pretty stiff penalties.

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

When we know Love, fear has no value in our presence. There is no pressure to perform and mask our humanity. We can BE and when we BE. We can inspire others to BE.

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

Lie long enough and eventually you'll believe yourself.

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.

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

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__ 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.

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

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??

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__s 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__he barbaric smiles of Bacchus.

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.

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.

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

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.