Deceiving Quotes

“Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords

“The fact that he does not tell me the truth all the time makes me not sure of his truth at certain times, and then I work to figure out for myself if what he is telling me is the truth or not, and sometimes I can figure out that it's not the truth and sometimes I don't know and never know, and sometimes just because he says it to me over and over again I am convinced it is the truth because I don't believe he would repeat a lie so often. Maybe the truth does not matter, but I want to know it if only so that I can come to some conclusions about such questions as: whether he is angry at me or not; if he is, then how angry; whether he still loves her or not; if he does, then how much; whether he loves me or not; how much; how capable he is of deceiving me in the act and after the act in the telling.”
― Lydia Davis, Break It Down

“Like the moon shining bright
Up high with all its grace,
I can only show you at night
And hide half of my face.”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, Pierrot & Columbine

“Some people in your life
Touch you so very deeply
That you drown totally in that depth.”
― Amit Abraham

“Sight is one of the most easily deceived senses. I could make a coin disappear and your eyes would believe it gone, even if it were merely up my sleeve.”
― Megan Chance, The Spiritualist

“Only those who do not wish to see can be deceived.”
― Dianna Hardy, Saving Eve

“It's not love at first sight, it's having the sight, to distinguish true love, from just mere beauty.”
― Anthony Liccione

“The real promise in too many promises is a promise that I’m going to be disappointed.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“If it sounds like a sheep but looks like a lion, it's probably a lion.”
― Nicholas Eames, Kings of the Wyld

“You're a shit cake with cum for whipped cream and dynamite for candles.”
― Ahmed Mostafa

“The problem with wearing a facade is that sooner or later life shows up with a big pair of scissors.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“The suicide committed by Sampson was partly determined by the craftiness of Delilah and partly decided by the disobedience of Sampson. Satan uses crafty means to set traps for us, but by our obedience of the laws of God, the traps remain functionless.”
― Israelmore Ayivor

“We don't think of ourselves as 'unforgiving' or 'bitter'- those words imply that we are somehow personally responsible. We prefer to talk about how deeply we have been 'hurt', implying that we are merely helpless victims. Are those who have been deeply wounded destined to live damaged lives? Or is there real healing for deep hurt? I say there is. . . .We've also deceived ourselves into believing that we can love and serve God and be 'good Christians,' while failing to forgive. When are we going to get honest?”
― Byron Paulus

“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.”
― Alice Hoffman, Property Of

“Your treason shall be your poison!”
― Noha Alaa El-Din, Norina Luciano

“How can you trust only yourself when your eyes can blind you, your ears deceive you, when you speak that which you don’t mean, and do that which you planned against?”
― Kyle Schmalenberg

“Banal or not, looks are deceiving,
And all that glitters is not gold –
And yet, we cannot help believing
What meets the eye – it’s uncontrolled.”
― Tatyana K. Varenko, Elfineness

“It is hard to fake decency. I observed. - On Decency”
― Lamine Pearlheart, Aether

“A persistent liar cannot prosper without a powerful memory.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“To figure out clever ways to lie is to believe that we’ve skillfully skirted the edge of a really big cliff. What we don’t realize is that we walked off the edge of that cliff the moment that we decided to lie. Therefore, there is no edge to skirt. Rather, there’s only an impact to prepare for.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“You can see your real face only when you stop deceiving yourself! Until then, you will always see someone which is not you!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“Daddy?”
“I’m right here, baby.”
Lumps form in my throat, going all the way down into the core of me.
It’s his voice. His. Right there. I reach toward the doorknob but I don’t get to turn it.
Nick smashes at me with his head, pushing against my lower jaw and cheek, like a blow. His muzzle moves my head away from the door. He presses his face in between me and the wood. Fur gets in my mouth. I spit it out and push at him.
“That’s my dad. My dad.” I slap the door. “He’s on the other side. The pixies will get him.”
Nick shows me his teeth.
“I can’t lose him again, Nick.”
The wolf snarls like he’s ready to bite. My head jerks back and away, but then I steady myself.
“Get . . . out . . . of . . . the . . . way.”
Pushing against his thick neck, I slam my hands against him over and over again, pummeling him. He doesn’t budge.
“Move!” I order. “Move.”
“Zara, is there a wolf in there with you? Do not trust him,” my dad’s voice says, calmly, really calmly.
I grab a fistful of fur and freeze. All at once it hits me that something is not right. My dad would never be calm if I was in my bedroom with a wolf. He’d be stressed and screaming, breaking the door down, kicking it in like he did once when I was really little and had accidentally locked myself in the bathroom and couldn’t get the lock out of the bolt because it was so old. He’d kicked that door down, splintering the wood, clutching me to him. He’d kissed my forehead over and over again.
“I’d never let anything happen to you, princess,” he’d said. “You’re my baby.”
My dad would be kicking the door in. My dad would be saving me.
“Let me in,” he says. “Zara . . .”
Letting go of Nick, I stagger backward. My hands fly up to my mouth, covering it.
Nick stops snarling at me and wags his fluffy tail.
How would my dad know that it is a wolf in here and not a dog? How would he know that it isn’t pixies?
I shudder. Nick pounds next to me, pressing his side against my legs. I drop my hands and plunge my fingers into his fur, burying them there, looking for something. Maybe comfort. Maybe warmth. Maybe strength. Maybe all three.”
― Carrie Jones, Need

“We are not deceiving anyone, we are only deceiving our own soul [our own Self].”
― Dada Bhagwan

“We don’t know who was tricked by whom. Did the writer deceive the word, or did the word deceive the writer?”
― Dejan Stojanovic, Serbian Satire and Aphorisms

“The clouds taught me that things are not always what they seem, by making the moon walk.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Song of a Nature Lover

“Do we actually think that we can somehow feed a lie long enough that it will eventually be able to replace the truth that the lie was lying about? For one of the greatest lies of all is to believe that a lie can actually do that.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“I leaned into Tamlin, sighing. 'It feels- feels as if some of it was a dream, or a nightmare. But... But I remembered you. And when I saw you there today, I started clawing at it, fighting, because I knew it might be my only chance, and-'

'How did you break free of his control,' Lucien said flatly from behind us.

Tamlin gave him a warning growl.

I'd forgotten he was there. My sister's mate. The Mother, I decided, did have a sense of humour. 'I wanted it- I don't know how. I just wanted to break free of him, so I did.'

We stared each other down, but Tamlin brushed a thumb over my shoulder. 'Are- are you hurt?'

I tried not to bristle. I knew what he meant. That he thought Rhysand would do anything like that to anyone- 'I- I don't know,' I stammered. 'I don't... I don't remember those things.'

Lucien's metal eye narrowed, as if he could sense the lie.

But I looked up at Tamlin, and brushed my hand over his mouth. My bare, empty skin. 'You're real,' I said. 'You freed me.'

It was an effort not to turn my hands into claws and rip out his eyes. Traitor- liar. Murderer.

'You freed yourself,' Tamlin breathed. He gestured to the house. 'Rest- and then we'll talk. I... need to find Ianthe. And make some things very, very clear.'

'I- I want to be a part of it this time,' I said, halting when he tried to herd me back into that beautiful prison. 'No more... No more shutting me out. No more guards. Please. I have so much to tell you about them- bits and pieces, but... I can help. We can get my sisters back. Let me help.'

Help lead you in the wrong direction. Help bring you and your court to your knees, and take down Jurian and those conniving, traitorous queens. And then tear Ianthe into tiny, tiny pieces and bury them in a pit no one can find.

Tamlin scanned my face, and finally nodded. 'We'll start over. Do things differently. When you were gone, I realised... I'd been wrong. So wrong, Feyre. And I'm sorry.'

Too late. Too damned late. But I rested my head on his arm as he slipped it around me and led me toward the house. 'It doesn't matter. I'm home now.'

'Forever,' he promised.

'Forever,' I parroted, glancing behind- to where Lucien stood in the gravel drive.

His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he'd seen through every lie.

As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it.

As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop- and he could do nothing.

Not unless he never wanted to see his mate- Elain- again.

I gave Lucien a sweet, sleepy smile. So our game began.

We hit the sweeping marble stairs to the fornt doors of the manor.

And so Tamlin unwittingly led the High Lady of the Night Court into the heart of his territory.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I leaned into Tamlin, sighing. 'It feels- feels as if some of it was a dream, or a nightmare. But... But I remembered you. And when I saw you there today, I started clawing at it, fighting, because I knew it might be my only chance, and-'

'How did you break free of his control,' Lucien said flatly from behind us.

Tamlin gave him a warning growl.

I'd forgotten he was there. My sister's mate. The Mother, I decided, did have a sense of humour. 'I wanted it- I don't know how. I just wanted to break free of him, so I did.'

We stared each other down, but Tamlin brushed a thumb over my shoulder. 'Are- are you hurt?'

I tried not to bristle. I knew what he meant. That he thought Rhysand would do anything like that to anyone- 'I- I don't know,' I stammered. 'I don't... I don't remember those things.'

Lucien's metal eye narrowed, as if he could sense the lie.

But I looked up at Tamlin, and brushed my hand over his mouth. My bare, empty skin. 'You're real,' I said. 'You freed me.'

It was an effort not to turn my hands into claws and rip out his eyes. Traitor- liar. Murderer.

'You freed yourself,' Tamlin breathed. He gestured to the house. 'Rest- and then we'll talk. I... need to find Ianthe. And make some things very, very clear.'

'I- I want to be a part of it this time,' I said, halting when he tried to herd me back into that beautiful prison. 'No more... No more shutting me out. No more guards. Please. I have so much to tell you about them- bits and pieces, but... I can help. We can get my sisters back. Let me help.'

Help lead you in the wrong direction. Help bring you and your court to your knees, and take down Jurian and those conniving, traitorous queens. And then tear Ianthe into tiny, tiny pieces and bury them in a pit no one can find.

Tamlin scanned my face, and finally nodded. 'We'll start over. Do things differently. When you were gone, I realised... I'd been wrong. So wrong, Feyre. And I'm sorry.'

Too late. Too damned late. But I rested my head on his arm as he slipped it around me and led me toward the house. 'It doesn't matter. I'm home now.'

'Forever,' he promised.

'Forever,' I parroted, glancing behind- to where Lucien stood in the gravel drive.

His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he'd seen through every lie.

As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it.

As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop- and he could do nothing.

Not unless he never wanted to see his mate- Elain- again.

I gave Lucien a sweet, sleepy smile. So our game began.

We hit the sweeping marble stairs to the front doors of the manor.

And so Tamlin unwittingly led the High Lady of the Night Court into the heart of his territory.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“The painting looks beautiful.'

'It's nowhere near done,' I said, dredging up that girl who had shunned praise and compliments, who had wanted to go unnoticed. 'It's still a mess.'

Frankly, it was some of my best work, even if it's soullessness was only apparent to me.

'I think we all are,' Tamlin offered with a tentative smile.

I reined in the urge to roll my eyes, and returned his smile, brushing my hand over his shoulder as I passed.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Beauty is a parlour trick. It is in how you sit in the light. It is in how you turn your head and how you breathe.”
― Tiphanie Yanique, Land of Love and Drowning