Quotes About Secrets

The best antidote for loneliness, hopelessness, and fear is vulnerability: sharing your secrets and talking about what shames you, what you fear.

Goals are like diaries if kept secreted they can last decades until discovered.

There are three kinds of secrets: something that you hide at the bottom of your heart because you don't want it to be mentioned. Something that you can't say even if you want to, and something that you hope someone asks about even though you're hiding it.

I'd learned that some things are best kept secret.

Life is always a mystery, smiles may be worn to hide tears, those who seem happy may be keeping in their hearts, some pain so severe.

Everyone has a life no one knows about.

Some of the best moments in life are the ones you can't tell anyone about.

All human beings have three lives: public, private, and secret.

I've heard that it's possible to grow up - I've just never met anyone who's actually done it. Without parents to defy, we break the rules we make for ourselves. We throw tantrums when things don't go our way, we whisper secrets with our best friends in the dark, we look for comfort where we can find it, and we hope - against all logic, against all experience. Like children, we never give up hope...

Behind the prettiest smile hides the darkest secrets, Behind the kindest heart resides the cruelest pain. Looks could be quite deceiving...And your perceptions about certain characters could be wrong...he truth turns into lies, happiness to sorrows.Honesty died in vain a long time ago. Even a loving heart could be so hollow...

A real friend warms you by his presence, trusts you with his secrets, and remembers you in his prayers.

That moment when someone trusts you with their secret...and you just feel like such an awesome friend.

Your pinky may be the smallest finger but it's capable of holding the biggest secrets.

Pois desde que se está enamorado, todos os pequenos privilégios desconhecidos que a gente possui, desejaria poder divulgá-los à mulher a quem ama, como fazem na vida os deserdados e os importunos. Sentimos que ela os ignore, procuramos consolar-nos dizendo conosco mesmos que, justamente porque não são jamais visíveis, talvez ela acrescente à ideia que tem de nós essa possibilidade de vantagens desconhecidas.

There was only one thing she would not do for me, a thing she would have done only at the time when I would have cared nothing for it, and which she would have happily done then for that very reason: that is, tell me the truth.

She had guessed that Françoise was not over-fond of her son-in-law, and that he spoiled the pleasure she found in visiting her daughter, as the two could not talk so freely when he was there. And so one day, when Françoise was going to their house, some miles from Combray, Mamma said to her, with a smile: "Tell me, Françoise, if Julien has had to go away, and you have Marguerite to yourself all day, you will be very sorry,

Nor can one underestimate the lengths to which the Catholic hierarchy went to keep its ugly secrets to itself. One lay Catholic described it as follows: "Their structure and social chemistry is almost identical to the Mafia. There is a deep secrecy and a fierce loyalty to the organization.

one here can tell me anything." Eric put his hands in his pockets, then looked away. "What? What?

about her affair with Cassie. That meant Tiegan had no way of knowing Cassie had told me about it. Would Tiegan admit it? And what would she say about the blood in the trunk of her car?

I have examined you long enough. I have read your heart, and written out your secrets! You are but a shell-the shell that holds a corrupted and sinful heart. He shall live; you shall die!

We are," Quinn said. "We're doing all of the stuff you've seen on tri-d. But if you want to see your friend again, we need to know what you know.

Lying in bed, half-covered by the blankets, I would drowsily ask why he had come to my door that night long ago. It had become a ritual for us, as it does for all lovers: where, when, why? remember...I understand even old people rehearse their private religion of how they first loved, most guarded of secrets. And he would answer, sleep blurring his words, "Because I had to." The question and the answer were always the same. Why? Because I had to.

Mirabelle loved the forest. It was cool and full of shadows and little shifting pools of sunlight. It was strange and secret, full of unknown things, magic things perhaps. It sheltered flocks of colored birds, and rabbits and squirrels and the big-eyed, delicate-footed deer. It breathed with the scent of flowers and the sound of running water, and at night it held all the stars in its branches.

She wanted everyone kind and affectionate, not passionate and tormenting – everything open, no maggoty secrets and silences, and no arguments with other, darker arguments hidden in them.