Quotes About Secrets

There are things that I canna tell you, at least not yet. And I'll ask nothing of ye that ye canna give me. But what I would ask of ye—when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I'll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save—respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do ye agree?

There are things ye maybe canna tell me, he had said. I willna ask ye, or force ye. But when ye do tell me something, let it be the truth. There is nothing between us now but respect, and respect has room for secrets, I think—but not for lies.

What sort of mother talks about whores on her deathbed? Your mother wouldn't do that, would she? I have no idea," Grey said, "The situation has fortunately not arisen.

He had a dim memory of his father telling him that a secret remained a secret only so long as just one person knew it.

James Fraser," he said. His eyes were fixed on William with a burning intensity, as though to absorb every vestige of a sight he would not see again. "Ye kent me once as Alex MacKenzie. At Helwater.

Bodies under the foundation, though—that's where a lot of the local ghosts come from.

And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies.

he knew damned well that he was really the son of— He choked that thought off, shoving it violently to the back of his mind. "Son of" had brought Lord John vividly to mind, though.

He had a dim memory of his father telling him that a secret remains a secret only so long as just one person knew it.

My father," he said abruptly. "Pa—Lord John, I mean. He knew—knows?" "Yes." Thin ice again. I didn't think he had any idea that Lord John had married Isobel principally for his sake—and Jamie's—but didn't want him going anywhere near the question of Lord John's motives.

There are things that I canna tell you, at least not yet. And I'll ask nothing of ye that ye canna give me. But what I would ask of ye—when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I'll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save—respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies. Do ye agree?" He

There are things ye maybe canna tell me, he had said. I willna ask ye, or force ye. But when ye do tell me something, let it be the truth. There is nothing between us now but respect, and respect has room for secrets, I think—but not for lies. I

I have had carnal knowledge of your wife." "You bugger," he whispered

I didn't want to pursue the history of John's eye any further. Other considerations aside, any discussion might lead a little too close to Wentworth Prison for comfort. However close a friend Jamie might have considered John during the last few years, I was positive that he'd never told John about Black Jack Randall and what had happened at Wentworth.

what I would ask of ye—when you do tell me something, let it be the truth. And I'll promise ye the same. We have nothing now between us, save—respect, perhaps. And I think that respect has maybe room for secrets, but not for lies.

So Jamie's gone off wi' your Lord John, the British army is after them, the tall lad I met on the stoop wi' steam comin' out of his ears is Jamie's son—well, of course he is; a blind man could see that—and the town's aboil wi' British soldiers. Is that it, then?

There is nothing between us now but respect, and respect has room for secrets, I think—but not for lies.

crepuscle, the mysterious half-light that comes at both ends of the day, when the small secret things come out to feed. There

WHY DID YE never tell me that Frank Randall looked like Black Jack?

You call her 'Dame Blanche,' " Jamie said, between his teeth. "I call her wife! Let her face be the last that ye see, then!

You didn't know that Jamie was married?" He blinked, but not in time to keep me from seeing a small grimace of pain, as though someone had struck him suddenly across the face.

Well, that's of no consequence just now. But he did not tell you—that is—has he not told you about Willie?" I stared at him blankly. "Who's Willie?" Instead of explaining, he bent and opened the drawer of his desk. He pulled out a small object and laid it on the desk, motioning me to come closer.

I kept thinking—how should I tell ye everything, about Geneva, and Willie, and John—will ye know about John?

He told me. About everything.