Quotes About Secrets

I love telling stories, and am almost entirely unable to keep a secret.

I've made six films since I made Secrets and Lies but I still live in London and I'd love to do theater.

I'd love to be able to be invisible, because I like to eavesdrop.

There are a lot of things we don't want to know about the people we love.

It's miles worse for you than that; I'm in love with your gamekeeper.

I've always been intrigued by the power of secrets. When is it justifiable to keep them from the ones we love? And does keeping them irrevocably change who we are?

I think talking about one's love life is always... It's a Pandora's box, best kept in journals.

It's just so strange.You used to love me, and now you're a strangerwho happens to know allof my secrets.

She sniffled. "Does he know?""Not a clue, " Law said. "There are concrete bricks less dense than my beloved.

enterrât les suicidés

doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul.

Oh, Madam Mina, good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read; and we men who wish to know have in us something of angels' eyes.

have always suspected suicide, though no pistol was found near the body.  He may have discovered something—God knows what!—so possibly Lady Arabella may herself have killed him.

The society killed Kendra. ... Don't mention it to Verl. He might dive into a chasm.

ROBBING GRAVES! SHES ASKING US TO ROB GRAVES!

Why are all these masks winking? Jason pointed around the room with his fork. The loremaster dabbed at his mouth with a frilled purple napkin. One eye is open to all truth, the other closed to all deception.

That was the trouble of telling someone all your truths. They could use them to tear you apart.

What was one more skeleton in an already crowded closet?

my mother finally told him, possibly years

I got to third base. At baseball practice the following Monday, that is. As for what happened that night with Kevin at the stinky picnic gazebo, that's none of your damn business.

He wasn't, I realized when I read those scenes concerning Blair and myself, close to any of us-- except of course to Blair, and really not even to her. He was simply someone who floated through our lives and didn't seem to care how flatly he perceived everyone or that he'd shared our secret failures with the world, showcasing the youthful indifference, the gleaming nihilism, glamorizing the horror of it all. But there was no point in being angry with him.

So…" Kimball looks at his book helplessly. "There's nothing you can tell me about Paul Owen?" "Well." I sigh. "He led what I suppose was an orderly life, I guess." Really stumped, I offer, "He… ate a balanced diet.

You don't think it's"– and now she looks around the restaurant before leaning in, whispering–"AIDS?" "Oh no, nothing like that," I say, though immediately I wish I had paused long enough before answering to scare her. "Just . . . general . . . brain"—I bite the tip off an herbed breadstick and shrug—"injuries.

Later, as she's putting the dress back on, I notice a bruise on the side of her torso that I had'nt seen before. Who did that to you I ask. Oh that She says? You did