Quotes About Privacy

I have a very beautiful room that in my house that we bought in Princeton. It's glass on three sides, and you'd think that's the perfect place to write. Somehow in that nice room I feel too exposed, and I can notice I'm too distracted by things going on, so I end up writing in a not-very-nice office bedroom.

Privacy is not something that I'm merely entitled to, it's an absolute prerequisite.

What happens this weekend stays between us. We set the rules.

...intimacy isn't something men talk about. They may talk about politics, literature, stocks, or sports, depending on the man, but about their love lives they keep silent, even to their dying breath.

I have an innate fear of fame. I've never thought being famous looked like such a good place to be. I love being incognito.

I love what I do for a living, but the other side, that aspect of being famous or a celebrity's got zero interest to me.

A famous love story is hard to maintain when you both live in the spotlight.

I don't want to be any more interesting than I am. I love the life that I get to live, which is one of real independence and privacy and autonomy.

I promised her that I would never kiss and tell, but I have to tell someone about my dreams and fairytales. So I'm telling you that I kissed her.

If it bothers you to see me when then stop looking.

It's a very private moment when your heart breaks. I was thankful we were alone. I knew I couldn't keep her, but I would always do anything to protect her.

I feel safe in the car, alone and protected. I can see people milling about in the parking lot but they can't see me. Well, they can but they think I'm insane so they look away which is the same as being invisible.

Someone has been sawing off all the branches of the tree outside my dining room window. I like to sit in my T-shirt and panties at the dining room table first thing in the morning and listen to the uneaten mourning doves and write. The branches covered virtually the entire window and prevented the neighbors from seeing me sitting here in my underwear. But now the branches are coming away one by one and revealing me to my neighbors slowly like a puzzle taking shape.

Despite habitual protests by civil servants and politicians that no such process is under way, the tortured and slow death of Internet privacy in the West, especially in the United Kingdom and the United States, is a sad – albeit visible – reality and is probably inevitable.

I am not bothered by the silence. For all the noise I make with my friends, I am still not comfortable talking about my feelings in front of others - especially not classmates.

That was the end of his driving.. That was the end of his walking free.. That was the end of his privacy.. And that was the end of his secret.

He kept the outside world at bay by keeping the inside world at hand.

Secrets make life more interesting. You can be in a crowded room with someone and touch them without touching, just with a look, because they know a part of you no one else knows. And whenever you're with them, the two of you are alone, because the you they see no one else can.

Secrets make life more interesting. You can be in a crowded room with someone and touch them without touching, just with a look, because they know a part of you no one else knows. And whenever you're with them, the two of you are alone, because the you they see no one else can see.

From the perspective of the world's national security apparatuses you exist in several locations. You appear on property and income-tax registries, on passport and ID card databases. You show up on passenger manifests and telephone logs . . . You are fingertip swirls, facial ratios, dental records, voice patterns, spending trails, e-mail threads.

They next faced the problem that confronted all young people in the city who wanted to continue in one another's company past a certain hour. During the day there were parks, and campuses, and restaurants, cafés. But at night, after dinner, unless one had access to a home where such things were safe and permitted, or had a car, there were few places to be alone.

Everyone was horrified at the thought of someone seeing them on the can, and yet almost no one got any thrill looking at that.

He turns a page of his newspaper and folds it conveniently for reading, and reads it without looking at her again, settling further into his seat with the slight sigh of one whose visitor has left and who is at last alone.

However, as soon as Mrs. Hogg stepped into her room she disappeared, she simply disappeared. She had no private life whatsoever. God knows where she went in her privacy.