Pretense (n.) is only one special case of expressing pain without feeling it; a drug could make a patient re-enact his illness automatically.
Pretense (n.) needs a motive and a situation, like playing sick to attack one's helpers; inner is a dangerous metaphor for its difference.
Pretense (n.) can be pointed out to a student — that person isn't pretending — though asked how one tells, all I can say is look how he lies there, look at his face.
Pretense (n.) can be believed of oneself: in Pilgrim's Progress a man thinks he is uttering the curses the devil is uttering.
Pretense (n.) exists, but so must evidence for pretence; the outward has to be evident.
Pretense (n.) as a concept has more and less essential traits: change one and the word still applies, change another and it no longer does, and naming here is an attitude.
Pretense (n.) is a pattern in the weave of life with endless variations; a dog cannot fake pain, its life too simple, lacking the joints for such moves.
Pretense (n.) has an appearance of its own, more complex than that of suffering, which is why actors can play pretenders and pretence can be exposed.
Pretense (n.) has a root in a child screaming to be treated kindly, which is not yet pretence; a complex pattern must be learned first.
Pretense (n.) is not present in a person like a feeling, but like a game, since even words to oneself have meaning only within a language-game.
Pretense (n.) needs a wide variety of reactions and a child developed far enough, so simulating is not an experience.
Pretense (n.) has outward signs of its own, else we could not talk about it; we deal with patterns in the weave of life.
Pretense (n.) would be an unusable concept if every behaviour could always be pretence, for it would have no criteria in behaviour.