Looks Can Be Deceiving Funny Quotes

Looks can be deceiving. You can't always tell what's going on inside a person from outside. People put on a brave face when they're trying to get over heartbreak, but that doesn't mean they have. ~ Alison G. Bailey

Looks can be deceiving. ~ Meg Cabot

When it comes to humans... or anything for that matter, looks can be deceiving and so can actions. ~ Angie Anomalous

Looks can be deceiving, get to know them before you judge them. ~ Jessica Kinney

Don't decide on a dog based on looks either, much like with people, looks and first impressions can be deceiving. ~ Elizabeth Holmes

I ... can't believe you have kittens." I wiggled my fingers and the little guy strained to reach them. "What're their names?"
Roth snorted. "That one is Fury. The white one is Nitro and the black one is named Thor."
"What? You called these cuties something like that, but named a giant snake Bambi?"
He bent forward, placing a kiss on my shoulder. It was so fast I wasn't sure he'd actually done it. "There's sweetness in evil," he said. "And remember, looks can be deceiving. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

There she is," he said.

I scanned the room for Mason's current love interest. "Where?"

"Pink top, brown ponytail."

"She's cute. But a little too innocent for your taste."

"Looks can be deceiving." He grinned.

"How did a girl like me end up with a man-whore like you for a best friend?"

"I'm the one who should be asking how a guy like me ended up with a prude like you."

"Hey, I'm not a prude. Well, at least I don't think I am. Who knows?"

"I already volunteered my services. Telling you, once you're devirginized you're gonna go wild. Might as well get it out of the way."

I hushed him and looked around. "Someone will hear you."

"A guy who likes sex and a girl who's a virgin. Yeah, that's something no one's ever seen before." He shrugged. "I'm just trying to do you a favor."

I laughed. "Your thoughtfulness amazes me."

"No-strings-attached sex is very generous. You laugh now but one day you'll come around."

"No thanks. I know where you've been."

"Good point." He glanced back at the girl. "And you know where I'm going."

I rolled my eyes. "Go. It's fine."

"That's okay. I'll find her later. I promised not to abandon you."

"Go. Seriously. I'm fine. I'll practice blending in with the walls."

"Now I really can't leave you." He shifted his weight and stared at me.

"It was a joke. Any ~ Renita Pizzitola

Do I look feeble to you"
"Actually, yes."
"Well, looks can be deceiving. For instance, when I met you, I thought you look reasonably intelligent. ~ Neal Shusterman

If the angle you're going at is there's some kind of quid pro quo - there isn't. Business is business, and people are allowed to make money. Looks can be deceiving, because there's no quid pro quo here. ~ Mike Miller

The werewolf laughs, or at least I think it's a laugh. Really it's just a dry wheeze. He steps toward me and lifts a hand to my face. I recoil. His fingernails are long, and his bluish pale skin is paper thin. Veins protrude from the back of his hand making it appear frail. It certainly doesn't look like the hand of a killer.

But then looks can be deceiving. Especially where werewolves are concerned. ~ Nicki Chapelway

Looks can be deceiving." -Krone, Fate of the Sorceress- ~ Giselle Jeffries Schneider

Looks can be deceiving; it's eating that's believing. ~ James Thurber

This is your last chance to do the right thing.'
'Do you want to attack first, or will I?'
Skulduggery held up a finger. 'Do you mind if I confer with my colleague for a moment?'
'By all means.'
Skulduggery leaned in towards Valkyrie. 'Damn,' he whispered. 'She's not going to do the right thing.'
'Did you really think she would?'
'I was really hoping.'
'Can we beat her?' Valkyrie asked.
'I don't like our chances.'
'What are our chances?'
'We don't have any,' Skulduggery admitted. 'Do you think you can take Craven on your own?'
'No.'
'Me either. Do you want to leave him to me then, and you can take her?'
'I like that idea even less.'
'I don't blame you.'
She sighed. 'We're going to get killed, aren't we?'
'It looks likely. Our only hope is a surprise attack.'
'They're staring right at us.'
'Dammit.' Skulduggery straightened up. 'We have discussed the situation,' he said to them, 'and decided that it would be in everyone's best interests for me to fight you, Melancholia, and for both Valkyrie and Cleric Craven to stand back and cheer or boo as they see fit. ~ Derek Landy

Nowadays it's those hedonistic wastrels who pollute the air so that they can look at some pretty fish in the South Seas. It would be better if we only ever rode bikes. Oh, there's always someone wagging a finger in disapproval. ~ Hans Von Storch

Listen to me," Jordan begged urgently, somehow convinced that she would stay alive if she understood how much she meant to him. "Listen to what my life was like before you hurtled into it wearing that suit of armor - Life was empty. Colorless. And then you happened to me, and suddenly I felt feelings I never believed existed, and I saw things I'd never seen before. You don't believe that, do you, darling? But it's true, and I can prove it." His deep voice ragged with unshed tears, Jordan recited his proof: "The flowers in the meadow are blue," he told her brokenly. "The ones by the stream are white. And on the arch, by the arbor, the roses are red."

Lifting her hand to his face, he rubbed his cheek against it. "And that's not all I noticed. I noticed that the clearing by the pavilion - the one where my plaque is - looks like the very same one where we had our duel a year ago. Oh, and darling, there's something else I have to tell you: I love you, Alexandra."

Tears choked his voice and made it a tormented whisper. "I love you, and if you die I'll never be able to tell you that. ~ Judith McNaught

Look, nearly everything in the culture says we're freaks. Doing sex work, we're desired; we can get rewarded for being what we've always wanted to be. What's so bad about that? My own notion is I wish sex work would be decriminalized (not legalized, please note the distinction) so that more trannies could get into the field if they wanted to and not get into trouble for it. ~ Kate Bornstein

One of the best gifts you can give a poet is to present them with field guides - to rocks, to stars, to birds, to wildflowers, to trees and bushes, to butterflies, to reptiles and amphibians. Because when you look at anything long enough to be able to identify it, you see far more clearly and you make a tiny beginning at understanding the life, the place, the history of that bird or rock or mammal. ~ Marge Piercy

Mom" I say "Oh honey" she says "The doctor wants to see you to make sure you don't have the same thing that killed your brother. "
She turns to Ms.Logan who looks scandalized by the whole encounter. "These things can run in famalies" she confides.
"Your afraid I'm going to come down with a bad case of getting two in the chest?" I say "cause you might be right about that running in families. ~ Holly Black

Some people who've read my story think I had a terrible childhood and that I was neglected or even abused, while others feel that my parents, while certainly flawed, also had truly wonderful qualities. And that's the way it should be, because in real life two people can look at the same president and one will see a hero and the other a villain. ~ Jeannette Walls

You just have to be classy at the end of the day. That doesn't mean you can't go with a midnight blue tux. And if you can find a deep red tux that looks classy and classic, I think you can pull it off. ~ Paul Feig

It's Ky's move. In the quiet before the Ky takes his turn, Xander watches him carefully. Ky's hand hovers over the board. For a moment, as he holds the piece in the air, I see where he could put it to win and I know he sees it, too, that he planned the whole game for that last move. He looks at Xander and Xander looks back, both of them locked in some kind of challenge that seems to run deeper and older than what's happening here on this board.
Then Ky moves his hand and puts his piece down in a spot where Xander can eventually overtake him for the win. Ky doesn't hessitate once he places the piece; he sets it down with a solid sound and leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. I think I see the slightest hint of a smile on his lips but I can't be sure. ~ Ally Condie

I knew when the ball was going out (over the Green Monster). It was something I worked into the decoy, but it used to tick the pitchers off. Bill Monbouquette used to say, 'Can't you at least make it look like you can catch it?' Meanwhile, the ball would be on its way over the fence to a spot three-quarters of the way out to the railroad tracks. ~ Carl Yastrzemski

Cassie?"
It's Sammy, holding on to Ben, because he's feeling the Ben thing a little more than he is the Cassie one at the moment. Who's this guy falling from the ductwork, and what's he doing with my sister?
"This must be Sammy," Evan says.
"This is Sammy," I say. "Oh! And this is - "
"Ben Parish," Ben says.
"Ben Parish?" Evan looks at me. That Ben Parish?
"Ben," I say, my face on fire. I want to laugh and crawl under the counter at the same time. "This is Evan Walker."
"Is he your boyfriend?" Sammy asks.
I don't know what to say. Ben looks totally lost, Evan completely amused, and Sammy just damned curious. It's my first truly awkward moment in the alien lair, and I'd been through my share of moments.
"He's a friend from high school," I mutter.
And Evan corrects me, since it's clear I've lost my mind. "Actually, Sam, Ben is Cassie's friend from high school."
"She's not my friend," Ben says. "I mean, I guess I kind of remember her…" Then Evan's words sink in. "How do you know who I am?"
"He doesn't!" I fairly shout.
Cassie told me about you," Evan says. I elbow him in the ribs, and he gives me a look like What?
"Maybe we can chat about how everybody knows one another later ~ Rick Yancey

Instead of it being the mark of a real man that you can shoot somebody at 50 feet and kill them with a gun, the mark of a real man is that you would never do anything like that ... The gun is a great equalizer because it makes wimps as dangerous as people who really have skill and bravery and so I'd like to have this notion that anyone using a gun is a wuss. They aren't anybody to be looked up to. They're somebody to look down at because they couldn't defend themselves or couldn't protect others without using a gun. ~ David Hemenway

I'm a woman that's living in this world of everybody telling everyone how they should look, and what they should be eating and how people can lose this much weight this fast, and it just kind of overwhelms our senses. If I could just make the tiniest bit of difference in getting rid of that because it is so annoying, I would love that. ~ Jennifer Lawrence

I get the sense that many in the contemporary biblical womanhood movement feel that the tasks associated with homemaking have been so marginalized in our culture that it's up to them to restore the sacredness of keeping the home. This is a noble goal indeed, and one around which all people of faith can rally. But in our efforts to celebrate and affirm God's presence in the home, we should be wary of elevating the vocation of homemaking above all others by insinuating that for women, God's presence is somehow restricted to that sphere. If God is the God of all pots and pans, then He is also the God of all shovels and computers and paints and assembly lines and executive offices and classrooms. Peace and joy belong not to the woman who finds the right vocation, but to the woman who finds God in any vocation, who looks for the divine around every corner. ~ Rachel Held Evans

The train bore me away, through the monstrous scenery of slag-heaps, chimneys, piled scrap-iron, foul canals, paths of cindery mud criss-crossed by the prints of clogs. This was March, but the weather had been horribly cold and everywhere there were mounds of blackened snow. As we moved slowly through the outskirts of the town we passed row after row of little grey slum houses running at right angles to the embankment. At the back of one of the houses a young woman was kneeling on the stones, poking a stick up the leaden waste-pipe which ran from the sink inside and which I suppose was blocked. I had time to see everything about her - her sacking apron, her clumsy clogs, her arms reddened by the cold. She looked up as the train passed, and I was almost near enough to catch her eye. She had a round pale face, the usual exhausted face of the slum girl who is twenty-five and looks forty, thanks to miscarriages and drudgery; and it wore, for the second in which I saw it, the most desolate, hopeless expression I have ever-seen. It struck me then that we are mistaken when we say that 'It isn't the same for them as it would be for us,' and that people bred in the slums can imagine nothing but the slums. For what I saw in her face was not the ignorant suffering of an animal. She knew well enough what was happening to her - understood as well as I did how dreadful a destiny it was to be kneeling there in the bitter cold, on the slimy stones of a slum backyard, poking a stick up a foul ~ George Orwell

Kindness in looks and words and ways is true politeness, and any one can have it if they only try to treat other people as they like to be treated themselves. ~ Louisa May Alcott

Find people who can handle your darkest truths, who don't change the subject when you share your pain, or try to make you feel bad for feeling bad. Find people who understand we all struggle, some of us more than others, and that there's no weakness in admitting it. Find people who want to be real, however that looks and feels, and who want you to be real, too. Find people who get that life is hard, and who get that life is also beautiful, and who aren't afraid to honor both of those realities. Find people who help you feel more at home in your heart, mind and body, and who take joy in your joy. Find people who love you, for real, and who accept you, for real. Just as you are. They're out there, these people. Your tribe is waiting for you. Don't stop searching until you find them. ~ Scott Stabile

I see the glow before I see her. The orange light is so strong it's hard to believe the house isn't on fire, but when feet appear at the top of the staircase, I can finally see that the light isn't coming from the house. It's coming from her.
My heart beats so fast I can't tell the pulses apart - it's one harsh thrum inside my head. If I'm a Smurf, this girl is an Oompa Loompa. No. Not even. It looks like she walked out of a horror movie. She really is on fire, burning from the inside out.
I'm staring, but I can't help it. Everyone would be staring if they could see what I see. ~ Erica Cameron

I walked past the lady in yellow robes and the maid bringing her a letter, past the soldier with a magnificent hat and the girl smiling at him, thinking of warm lips, brown eyes, blue eyes. Her brown eyes stopped me.
It's the painting from whose frame a girl looks out, ignoring her beefy music teacher, whose proprietary hand rests on her chair. The light is muted, winter light, but her face is bright.
I looked into her brown eyes and I recoiled. She was warning me of something-- she had looked up from her work to warn me. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she had just drawn a breath in order to say to me, "Don't!"
I moved backward, trying to get beyond the range of her urgency. But her urgency filled the corridor. "Wait," she was saying, "wait! Don't go!"

...

She had changed a lot in sixteen years. She was no longer urgent. In fact, she was sad. She was young and distracted, and her teacher was bearing down on her, trying to get her to pay attention. But she was looking out, looking for someone who would see her.
This time I read the title of the painting: Girl Interrupted at Her Music.
Interrupted at her music.- as my life had been, interrupted in the music of being seventeen, as her life had been, snatched and fixed on canvas: one moment made to stand still and to stand for all the other moments, whatever they would be or might have been. What life can recover from that?
I had something to tell her now "I see you," ~ Susanna Kaysen

The people are pieces of software called avatars. They are the audiovisual bodies that people use to communicate with each other in the Metaverse. Hiro's avatar is now on the Street, too, and if the couples coming off the monorail look over in his direction, they can see him, just as he's seeing them. They could strike up a conversation: Hiro in the U-Stor-It in L.A. and the four teenagers probably on a couch in a suburb of Chicago, each with their own laptop. But they probably won't talk to each other, any more than they would in Reality. These are nice kids, and they don't want to talk to a
solitary crossbreed with a slick custom avatar who's packing a couple of swords.
Your avatar can look any way you want it to, up to the limitations of your equipment. If you're ugly, you can make your avatar beautiful. If you've just
gotten out of bed, your avatar can still be wearing beautiful clothes and professionally applied makeup. You can look like a gorilla or a dragon or a
giant talking penis in the Metaverse. Spend five minutes walking down the Street and you will see all of these.
Hiro's avatar just looks like Hiro, with the difference that no matter what Hiro is wearing in Reality, his avatar always wears a black leather kimono. Most hacker types don't go in for garish avatars, because they know that it takes a
lot more sophistication to render a realistic human face than a talking penis. Kind of the way people who really know clothing can appreci ~ Neal Stephenson

Probably no single event highlights the strength of Campbell's argument (on peak oil) better than the rapid development of the Alberta tar sands. Bitumen, the world's ugliest and most expensive hydrocarbon, can never be a reasonable substitute for light oil due to its extreme capital, energy, and carbon intensity. Bitumen looks, smells, and behaves like asphalt; running an economy on it is akin to digging up our existing road infrastructure, melting it down, and enriching the goop with hydrogen until it becomes a sulfur-rich but marketable oil. ~ Andrew Nikiforuk

Dev's elbow hits my back and I press forward and she's right there and I'm reaching out and she's right there and right at that moment the amps amplify and the music takes on such a pulse that it becomes my heartbeat and her heartbeat and I know it and she knows it and this is the point where we could break apart and that would be it, totally it. But I look into her eyes and she looks into my eyes and we recognize it--the exitement of being here, the excitement of being now. And maybe I'm realizing what a part of it she is and maybe she's realizing what a part of it I am, because suddenly we're not crashing as much as we're combining. The chords swirling around us are becoming a tornado, tightening and tightening and tightening, and we are at the center of it, and we are at the center of each other. My wrist touches hers right at the point of our pulses, and I swear I can feel it. That thrum. We are moving to the music and at the same time we are a stillness. I am not losing myself in the barrage. I am finding her. And she is--yes, she is finding me. ~ David Levithan

I don't have any drug stories to tell about myself. Once somebody met me on the street when my quartet was going into Slug's […] he said something about getting high and I said, "Yeah – on the music". For me, it's hard to understand why a musician needs more than the music. When I went to Europe the first time with Charles Lloyd, after the first or second set there were people coming up to Charles asking him if there was anything they could do for me!Because to them I seemed so crazy that I must be on something! "What can we do for Keith, we'd really want to help him, he looks so far gone!" But I wasn't drinking, smoking, taking any drugs… I never have taken drugs… no interest in it". ~ Ian Carr

I move like I'm gravity, like it's not a decision.
Standing on my toes, on the edge of the high dive, the water looks as clear and blue as the sky.
In my head there's the possibility that this moment isn't here yet, that maybe I'm not born. I could be an idea. Or I could be realized, and life is standing still. For this moment, the world has stopped.
I have a perfect balance. The wind moves around me. My heart is as light and bright as the sun. I am as light as a sparrow bone, and for one moment I am everything that can't be caught and held.
Then I'm passing through the air, turning, arms drawn in, toes pointed. My chin rests on my chest. I believe I have a chance at anything: one full revolution.
I spread my wings. I arch my back. I remember why swans are graceful, why someone would name this for something beautiful.
I think I'm touching the clouds. For a long time they keep me from breaking the blue. I don't hear the shattering surface. I belong behind this sky, all-silent and calm, and part of the world where butterflies live after they give up their feet and dream of flight. I can stay, if I pretend the fire in my chest doesn't burn, if I pretend the world is upside down, if I pretend water is the air I breathe. ~ Suzanne Marie Phillips