Quotes About Secrets

Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Jameson leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, then let the front legs drop down and leaned to whisper directly into my ear. "Toby Hawthorne is your father.

Xander raised his hand. "Anyone else wondering if we have a secret uncle out there no one knows about? Because at this point, secret uncle just kind of feels like it belongs on the Hawthorne bingo card.

Knock, knock!" Xander stuck his head out the door to the roof. "I just happened to have my ear pressed to this door. I might have overheard some things, and I have a suggestion!

I saw you with him. That Hawthorne boy." She managed to stand. "Never trust a Hawthorne," she slurred. "They take everything.

But the last girl at this school who got tangled up with the Hawthorne brothers? The last girl who spent hour after hour in that house? She died.

Ik heb een geheim, kon ik mijn moeder horen zeggen, minder dan een week voordat ze overleed. Over de dag dat je bent geboren.

Libby moved toward Nash and took his phone from his pocket. There was something intimate about the action--the way he let her, the way she knew he would.

This is some double-oh-seven-level shift right here, Ave. I'm motherfaxing James Bond, motherfaxers!

I guess you never know what other people are thinking, do you?

People didn't just disappear without a trace. Not Willa Luce, and most certainly not boring old Alice Washburne, who had two girls at home, chickens to feed, and only ventured to town two days each week: to sell eggs and knitting at the farmers' market on Saturday mornings, and to go grocery shopping each Wednesday, when the Shop and Save had double-coupon day.

Because that's what our family does. Pretends that if we don't talk about a thing, it didn't happen. As if we could shape the truth with our stories, or lack thereof.

But occasionally, someone will climb the hill, someone who has lost a husband or a child, someone who has somehow learned the secrets of sleepers, of the presence of a portal

Q: Bury deep, Pile on stones, Yet I will Dig up the bones. What am I? A: Memories — A FOLK RIDDLE

I am not perfect. I have secrets. I am messy. Not just my bedroom but me. No one likes messy.

This is my secret - that at any moment I might fly away.

You never know what someone's hiding. We all hide ourselves when we need to.

We can't always see what others don't want us to. Especially when they go to great lengths to hide it.

Knowledge subverts love: in proportion as we penetrate our secrets, we come to loathe our kind, precisely because they resemble us.

And once, Hareton, I came upon a secret stock in your room... some Latin and Greek, and some tales and poetry... But I've most of them written on my brain and printed in my heart, and you cannot deprive me of those!

ocúpate de que me entierren allí en secreto. Y si no lo haces así, ya te demostraré de un modo palpable que los muertos no se disuelven del todo.

The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, Whose charms were broken if revealed.

Kiss me again, but don't let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer--but yours! How can I?

You are my son, then, I'll tell you' and your mother was a wicked slut to leave you in ignorance of the sort of father you possessed.