The world is a stage, but the play is badly cast.

We're all like the slaves in the fields now, putting on the front that says 'everything's fine, boss' while we worry about how to make ends meet.

Perhaps one never seems so much at one's ease as when one has to play a part.

Is insincerity such a terrible thing? I think not. It is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities.

It is the privilege of old people to seem to know everything. But it's an act and a mask, like every other act and mask Between ourselves, we old ones wink at each other and smile, saying, How do you like my mask, my act, my certainty? Isn't life a play? Don't I play it well?

It was often easier to give a show than to watch one.

Women marry all their husbands’ talents and naturally, afterwards, are not so impressed with them as they may keep up the pretense of being.

To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it.