True Colours Revealed Quotes

At this point I reveal myself in my true colours, as a stick-in-the-mud. I hold a number of beliefs that have been repudiated by the liveliest intellects of our time. I believe that order is better than chaos, creation better than destruction. I prefer gentleness to violence, forgiveness to vendetta. On the whole I think that knowledge is preferable to ignorance, and I am sure that human sympathy is more valuable than ideology. I believe that in spite of the recent triumphs of science, men haven't changed much in the last two thousand years; and in consequence we must still try to learn from history. History is ourselves. I also hold one or two beliefs that are more difficult to put shortly. For example, I believe in courtesy, the ritual by which we avoid hurting other people's feelings by satisfying our own egos. And I think we should remember that we are part of a great whole. All living things are our brothers and sisters. Above all, I believe in the God-given genius of certain individuals, and I value a society that makes their existence possible.

It is true, I suppose, that nobody finds it exactly pleasant to be criticised or be shouted at, but I see in the face of the human being raging at me a wild animal in its true colour, one more horrible than any lion, crocodile, or lion. People normally seem to be hiding his true nature, but an occasion will arise when anger makes them reveal in a flash human nature in all its horror.

I fancy that the true explanation is this: It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style. They affect us just as vulgarity affects us. They give us an impression of sheer brute force, and we revolt against that. Sometimes, however, a tragedy that possesses artistic elements of beauty crosses our lives. If these elements of beauty are real, the whole thing simply appeals to our sense of dramatic effect. Suddenly we find that we are no longer the actors, but the spectators of the play. Or rather we are both. We watch ourselves, and the mere wonder of the spectacle enthralls us. In the present case, what is it that has really happened? Some one has killed herself for love of you. I wish that I had ever had such an experience. It would have made me in love with love for the rest of my life. The people who have adored me—there have not been very many, but there have been some—have always insisted on living on, long after I had ceased to care for them, or they to care for me. They have become stout and tedious, and when I meet them, they go in at once for reminiscences. That awful memory of woman! What a fearful thing it is! And what an utter intellectual stagnation it reveals! One should absorb the colour of life, but one should never remember its details. Details are always vulgar.

As a colour first reveals its true quality when placed by an excellent artist in its pre-elected spot between certain others, as a spice reveals its true flavour when inserted just where and when a good cook wishes among the other ingredients, as the dog becomes really doggy only when he has taken his place in the household of man, so we shall then first be true persons when we have suffered ourselves to be fitted into our places. We are marble waiting to be shaped, metal waiting to be run into a mould.

As we continued walking, the pebbles by the bank made a pleasant crunching sound under our feet. Their edges were polished to perfection by the continual friction of the water – revealing their innermost colours like polished diamonds. A particular stone caught my attention. It was shining among a sea of smooth grey ones. Picking it up, I gaped at it. This one was grey in colour like all the others except it had bands of iridescent blue running across its width. The bands were the same magnifi cent hue of blue as the skies above. Did it break and fall from the skies and soak up the grey from its common companions? Was this some kind of fall from grace, because it really didn’t seem to belong where I found it. I smiled at the treasure I had chanced upon and popped it in the bag on my shoulder. This was going back with me. A forever memory of this day.

Some people may fool you for the moment, but be patient and see what happens. In time, a person’s true colours will always reveal themselves.” – Anon

Don’t sacrifice your peace trying to point out someone’s true colours. Lack of character always reveals itself in the end.” – Mandy Hale

God has designed the world in a way that illustrates 'yet'; the green leaves lose their colour, but reveal one true colour that's been there all along.

Life and its occasions Time is infinite but occasions are not as many, While you maybe dealing with life and its moments so many, There will arise an occasion only created for you, A moment in time that bears your signature, because it has been designed for you, So, believing time will last forever is not untrue, It will be so, nothing can undo this fact, but believing it will be so for you, is certainly untrue, Therefore seek that occasion that has been created for you, And do not shy away from doing what you ought to do, everything is fine as long as you believe in you, For time gallops inexhaustibly, always forward, And men and women are born to rise upward because that is their only way forward, But realising the occasion born for you and taking it along, Is what shall lead you where you belong, just take yourself and your beliefs along, And as you get busy rising high, do not be bothered by the rest always moving forward, Because only from the highest points you can see the limits of what lies behind and what defines the forward, At that height let your eyes see what your conscience reveals, Because it is only at these pinnacles in one’s life, that life it's true colour reveals, Then let yourself bathe in its shades, all shades of life, And time shall be your never ending occasion, because now you are aware of realities of life, Which are the same whether you are at the highest point or at the farthest reaches of the forward most point, Because life was not born just for you and me , it was born for all alike; and that is the most critical point, Realise it and you shall scale every height, and you shall cross every farthest destiny, And then you shall always live your life in the custodianship of your destiny!

Never quit on her To deal with the desires and feelings of the heart, Demands you to be an artist who knows life’s every art, That to love, feel loved and be sometimes discarded like scrap, And still steer the heart from this destiny’s trap, Where it seeks to push you into the base of the pit, Where longing and agony become your permanent habit, And if you realise it and yet you love her true, The pit shall reveal to you the sky that is clear and blue, And from there too your heart shall say, “I love you everyday and anyway!” It is then you shall become the artist who can paint hearts, Fo to paint hearts needs the knowledge of life’s most faint and sensitive colours of all sorts, That make the admirer believe in its beauty that throbs always, Though the person is not around but her feelings somehow seep into life’s long nights and short days! Just to keep you alive in the pit, So that you still love her and you do not quit!

Time!! When bad is the best revealer. It strips the people naked and reveals to you their true colours.