Quotes About Secrets

It's human to have a secret, but it's just as human to reveal it sooner or later.

You are of the blood, Arvan. It will carry you through, he said Words! Just words. Blood was merely dark liquid — it carried no secrets, no mysteries. Courage was a thing of the soul and not a gift that a man could bestow on his sons

If it wasn't for Jamie staying with me all the time, I don't know what I would have done. He says it was hard because he knew what Mom wasn't telling me, but that's when Jamie and I started being friends.

Ultimately one has to pity these poor souls who know every secret about writing, directing, designing, producing, and acting but are stuck in those miserable day jobs writing reviews. Will somebody help them, please?

Cryptology served magical purposes frequently throughout the Middle Ages, and even in the Renaissance was still disguising important parts of alchemical formulas.

I want to take back the secrets I told you so I can decide now whether to tell them to you again. I want to take back the piece of me that lies in you, to see if I truly miss it. I want to take back at least half the "I love you"s, because it feels safer that way.

I have become very good at clearing histories.

You can be naked with someone and remain unknowable. You can be someone's secret without ever knowing what the full secret is. You can know he's even more scared than you are, but that doesn't make you any less scared yourself.

I immediately suspected there was much more to it than was being said.

exemplar, n. It's always something we have to negotiate- the face that my parents are happy, and yours have never been. I have something to live up to, and if I fail, I still have a family to welcome me home. You have a storyline to rewrite, and a lack of faith that it can ever be done. You love my parents, I know. But you never get too close. You never truly believe there aren't bad secrets underneath.

My fear tries to keep my secrets locked down, but my hope keeps slipping you the key.

I have never told anyone the truth. I have never come close.

maura: is there anything you want to tell me? me: yeah. I want to tell you that my third nipple is lactating and my butt cheeks are threatening to unionize. what do you think I should do about it? maura: I feel you're not telling me something.

If only you knew, Comedy Boy. If only I could tell you.

Will, he says, do you have a sec to talk in the living room? I spin around in the desk chair and stand up. My stomach flips a bit because the living room is the room least likely to be lived in, the room where the nonexistence of Santa is revealed, where grandmothers die, where grades are frowned upon, and where one learns that a man's station wagon goes inside a woman's garage, and then exits the garage, and then enters again, and so on until an egg is fertilized, and etc.

My mother sewed my name into all my underwear. But, really, it was another boy's name I was ready to sew into my heart.

I put my hand in my pocket and feel the edges of Noah's note. I can't believe you kissed him. It would be so easy to obsess about how he found out. But that's only a speculative digression. The real problem is that it's the truth.

And how devastating would it be to confide in someone and have the confidence disappear?

Our kisses were seismic. When seen by the wrong person, they could destroy us. When shared with the right person, they had the power of confirmation, the force of destiny.

I can see how siblings could be helpful in life—someone to share family secrets with, someone of your own generation who knows if your memories are right or not, someone who sees you at eight and eighteen and forty-eight all at once, and doesn't mind.

Burying something doesn't take away the weight of it. It only pushes the weight deeper and makes it harder to carry around.

In a Town like Twin Peaks noone is innocent

Whatever secrets the dead take with them, they should be allowed to keep. That's my new philosophy. Or put another way: the time to properly know someone is when he, or she, is still alive.

After I die, and you read something bad about yourself in my diary, do yourself a favor and keep reading," I often say to Hugh. "I promise that on the next page you'll find something flattering. Or maybe the page after that.