Quotes About Open book

I'm a pretty open book, so not being out publicly felt inauthentic. Hopefully we can get to a point where your personal life isn't anybody else's business, but until then, it's less about people having to know about your sexuality than standing up for what's right and fighting for equality.

I to you will open The book of a black sin, deep printed in me. … my disease lies in my soul. Thomas Dekker, The Noble Spanish Soldier

Everything is an open book. I don't speak on other people's hardship, but if it happened in my life or something that has been an experience on my particular journey, I'm going to talk about it. That's what my fan base appreciates the most. I'm universal. You can relate to the things I say or that I go through.

Interviews don't go to the core of my life. Everybody knows my life - it's an open book.

I'm like an open book. Whatever is going on with my life, I'm going to let the people know. I feel like that's how you always stay in-tune with your fans, letting them know everything that you've got going on.

My life has always been an open book and it's not such an eventful life.

Jared looked around the room. It was a smallish library, with one huge desk in the center. On it was an open book and a pair of old-fashioned, round glasses that caught the candlelight.

He rose, placed another small log on the fire, sat back down in his armchair, and opened his book. What are you reading? Reggie asked. On a wild night like this? Agatha Christie, of course. I still feel compelled to see if Hercule Poirot's 'little gray cells' will do their job one more time. It seems to often inspire my own brain, however inferior it might be to the diminutive Belgian's.

I don't hold a lot to the vest. I'm a bit of an open book, as anyone who knows me would contest. Confess? Attest? There's the word I'm looking for!

I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed; And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.

My fiftieth year had come and gone, I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top. While on the shop and street I gazed My body of a sudden blazed; And twenty minutes more or less It seemed, so great my happiness, That I was blessed and could bless.

Personally, I felt yoga was something to retreat from, not toward, so the mental image involved me sitting cross-legged with an open book in my lap while everyone else did the Spread-Eagle Ostrich.

No, lady. But I do read faces, and Ã¢â'¬Â¦Ã¢â'¬Â "And mine's an open book. I know," I said, resigned.

For at eight o'clock the world came to an end. It was reading time. The hours between eight in the evening and one or two in the morning have always been my magic hours. Against the blue candlewick bedspread the white pages of my open book, illuminated by a circle of lamplight, were the gateway to another world.

Time was of the essence. For at eight o'clock the world came to an end. It was reading time. The hours between eight in the evening and one or two in the morning have always been my magic hours. Against the blue candlewick bedspread the white pages of my open book, illuminated by a circle of lamplight, were the gateway to another world.