Camouflaged Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
bones-has-always-been-smart-i-muttered-his-intelligence-was-just-camouflaged-under-mountain-psy-cat-jeaniene-frost
i-often-wear-camouflaged-pants-when-i-walk-i-look-like-floating-torso-i-love-with-same-air-mystery-jarod-kintz
i-match-my-pajamas-to-my-comforter-i-can-disappear-into-sleep-im-camouflaged-into-noonexistence-where-i-dont-wake-up-until-1200-pm-jarod-kintz
one-greatest-threats-to-mankind-today-is-that-world-may-be-choked-by-explosively-pervading-but-well-camouflaged-bureaucracy
on-theft-his-material-by-denis-leary-i-have-scoop-for-you-i-stole-his-act-i-camouflaged-it-with-punchlines-to-really-throw-people-off-i-did-it-bill-hicks
opportunity-is-not-your-opponentit-is-your-ally-but-its-hard-to-see-that-because-opportunity-is-often-camouflaged-hidden-among-danger-chaos-jarod-kintz
we-fill-woods-with-invasive-primates-camouflaged-to-look-like-piles-leaves-who-sneak-around-sprinkling-estrus-doe-urine-manipulating-gadgets-that-sound-like-antlers-clashing
pterodactyl-has-silent-p-i-talk-entire-conversations-using-only-silent-letters-theyre-also-invisible-my-i-love-yous-are-camouflaged-amidst-my-absence-jarod-kintz
language-is-visibly-invisible-foreign-language-is-camouflaged-in-another-language-i-love-you-may-appear-like-common-tree-bark-jarod-kintz
in-more-than-half-nations-our-world-torture-certifies-that-form-government-is-tyranny-only-tyranny-no-matter-how-camouflaged-needs-employs-martha-gellhorn
in-one-sense-obamas-point-couldnt-be-clearer-race-is-distraction-from-class-based-inequities-and-if-we-dismiss-working-class-resentment-as-camouflaged-racism-we-will-continue-to-
knowledge-is-power-information-is-power-the-secreting-or-hoarding-of-knowledge-or-information-may-be-an-act-of-tyranny-camouflaged-as-humility
with-men-we-blame-victim-we-blame-men-because-we-have-camouflaged-mens-victimization-by-teaching-men-to-also-be-victimizer-mens-victimizer-status-warren-farrell
who-would-appreciate-such-candor-no-one-none-us-really-likes-honesty-we-prefer-deception-but-only-when-it-is-unabashedly-flattering-artfully-camouflaged-groups-seem-to-need-to-be
i-grabbed-shard-glass-spun-around-brandishing-it-in-front-me-it-was-pretty-stippled-blue-piece-nice-sharp-hold-on-tiger-i-give-up-a-bear-man-stood-in-front-me-hands-raised-in-moc
Seconds turn into minutes and minutes into hours. It is all still the same. Or it no longer is. If I were to ask what has changed, perhaps nothing, but conceivably everything would be the befitting reply. I no longer feel the same. Loss preceded me, alienating my soul from the body. I feel I am gliding through an alley making a journey from the known towards the unknown. There is a deep abyss inside where sometime back, my heart used to beat and a noisy, rusty old machine has replaced my mind; solitarily creating useless noise. I don't remember what day it is and since when have I been lying here. It must have been yesterday... or was it day before. I cannot recollect anything except the dull throbbing pain inside my brain. I can see the time, almost 9: 45, difficult to say which time of the day it is. The bigger hand is soon going to overshadow the smaller hand. It looks like a game of cat and mouse; the bigger hand chasing the smaller one. Anyone stronger in terms of physical appearance, money, power, fame or name tramples upon the weak ones - that is the rule of the world. There are only two possible reasons behind it, love or hate. When you love someone you want to control everything that person does and hence, sometimes, knowingly or unknowingly you squash them like melons. While on the other hand in the case of hate, there is no need to specify the reason for walking over someone like that. Hate is a strong reason in itself. I am confused as to what crushed me, was it love or hate? I somehow don't like the sound of it - love, it in itself smells of treachery, for love is not a pure emotion. Lust and hatred are the only pure emotions. Love is camouflaged, for needs and desires. Desires - they are magical in their own way. They can be innocent. They can be monstrous. But they exist, no matter what, and many such needs and desires make us helpless slaves of the same. We hide these desires either in the realms of our mind or in the dusty corners of our hearts for we are scared... what if someone finds out what we desire. We give them identities so as to not let the real thing show. The only thing visible on the front is a mask we wear to deceive people or that's what I thought. For I was deceived while I believed I am the deceiver. Or was I not? I debated as my mind once again tried to enter a sleep-induced trance.

Namrata
seconds-turn-into-minutes-minutes-into-hours-it-is-all-still-same-or-it-no-longer-is-if-i-were-to-ask-what-has-changed-perhaps-nothing-but-conceivably-everything-would-be-befitti
As I became older, I was given many masks to wear. I could be a laborer laying railroad tracks across the continent, with long hair in a queue to be pulled by pranksters; a gardener trimming the shrubs while secretly planting a bomb; a saboteur before the day of infamy at Pearl Harbor, signaling the Imperial Fleet; a kamikaze pilot donning his headband somberly, screaming 'Banzai' on my way to my death; a peasant with a broad-brimmed straw hat in a rice paddy on the other side of the world, stooped over to toil in the water; an obedient servant in the parlor, a houseboy too dignified for my own good; a washerman in the basement laundry, removing stains using an ancient secret; a tyrant intent on imposing my despotism on the democratic world, opposed by the free and the brave; a party cadre alongside many others, all of us clad in coordinated Mao jackets; a sniper camouflaged in the trees of the jungle, training my gunsights on G.I. Joe; a child running with a body burning from napalm, captured in an unforgettable photo; an enemy shot in the head or slaughtered by the villageful; one of the grooms in a mass wedding of couples, having met my mate the day before through our cult leader; an orphan in the last airlift out of a collapsed capital, ready to be adopted into the good life; a black belt martial artist breaking cinderblocks with his head, in an advertisement for Ginsu brand knives with the slogan 'but wait-there's more' as the commercial segued to show another free gift; a chef serving up dog stew, a trick on the unsuspecting diner; a bad driver swerving into the next lane, exactly as could be expected; a horny exchange student here for a year, eager to date the blonde cheerleader; a tourist visiting, clicking away with his camera, posing my family in front of the monuments and statues; a ping pong champion, wearing white tube socks pulled up too high and batting the ball with a wicked spin; a violin prodigy impressing the audience at Carnegie Hall, before taking a polite bow; a teen computer scientist, ready to make millions on an initial public offering before the company stock crashes; a gangster in sunglasses and a tight suit, embroiled in a turf war with the Sicilian mob; an urban greengrocer selling lunch by the pound, rudely returning change over the counter to the black patrons; a businessman with a briefcase of cash bribing a congressman, a corrupting influence on the electoral process; a salaryman on my way to work, crammed into the commuter train and loyal to the company; a shady doctor, trained in a foreign tradition with anatomical diagrams of the human body mapping the flow of life energy through a multitude of colored points; a calculus graduate student with thick glasses and a bad haircut, serving as a teaching assistant with an incomprehensible accent, scribbling on the chalkboard; an automobile enthusiast who customizes an imported car with a supercharged engine and Japanese decals in the rear window, cruising the boulevard looking for a drag race; a illegal alien crowded into the cargo hold of a smuggler's ship, defying death only to crowd into a New York City tenement and work as a slave in a sweatshop. My mother and my girl cousins were Madame Butterfly from the mail order bride catalog, dying in their service to the masculinity of the West, and the dragon lady in a kimono, taking vengeance for her sisters. They became the television newscaster, look-alikes with their flawlessly permed hair. Through these indelible images, I grew up. But when I looked in the mirror, I could not believe my own reflection because it was not like what I saw around me. Over the years, the world opened up. It has become a dizzying kaleidoscope of cultural fragments, arranged and rearranged without plan or order.

Frank H. Wu
as-i-became-older-i-was-given-many-masks-to-wear-i-could-be-laborer-laying-railroad-tracks-across-continent-with-long-hair-in-queue-to-be-pulled-by-pranksters-gardener-trimming-s
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