We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves.

We get so much in the habit of wearing disguises before others that we finally appear disguised before ourselves.

We are so accustomed to wearing a disguise before others that eventually we are unable to recognize ourselves.

What seems to be generosity is often no more than disguised ambition, which overlooks a small interest in order to secure a great one.

Hope, deceiving as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route.

There is no disguise which can hide love for long where it exists, or simulate it where it does not.