Quotes About Hidden

I can feel a better version of me somewhere in there—hidden behind a liver or attached to a bit of spleen

Richard wanted to take me to all the town's secret places, the nooks only the locals knew about. Places where people meet to screw or smoke dope, where teens drink, or folks go to sit by themselves and decide where their lives had unraveled. Everyone has a moment where life goes off the rails.

Given my druthers now, I'd prefer a snapshot of Warren Harding's wife, "the Duchess," who recorded the smallest offenses in a little red notebook and avenged herself accordingly. Today I like my first ladies with a little bite. I

I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of

rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.

don't tell mama...

Instead, she'd let it get even more overgrown and cobwebbed. We'd always joked that it would be a good place to bury a body. It couldn't be.

A veces creo que la enfermedad yace agazapada en el interior de todas las mujeres, esperando el momento oportuno para aflorar... He conocido a tantísimas mujeres «enfermas» en mi vida... Enfermas, más enfermas y las más enfermas. ¿Qué era real y qué era falso?

I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.

often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.

into trouble because what he keeps hidden under his skirt has a mind of its own.

You don't alter the past, turn the tide, or change yourself by brooding about your hidden motives. You will surprise yourself every time, anyway. Nobody ever figures out why.

Nobody who wasn't down there

the one true secret of the universe: there is always a darker shadow lurking beyond the one whose face you can see.

We all have secrets in our hearts.

only nobody knows about it but us.

I like to have a secret love affair, a hidden life, something to lie about.

The gulls swept over Dover. They sailed out like flakes of the fog, and tacked back towards the hidden town, while the siren mourned with them: other ships replied, a whole wake lifted up their voices—for whose death?

They sped along the conduits reserved for the subtle messages of subatomic particles, space-time's hidden circuitry.

I've sometimes wondered whether human beings are like the universe itself, where 95 percent of what surrounds us is dark matter, and cannot be seen. The only way black holes can be detected is by the behavior of what's around them—light and matter being distorted by immense forces within the collapsing star. Have I seen and yet not seen certain events that hint at deep

Scraping away the dirt from a secret doesn't always set you free. Sometimes it's the very opposite.

Every virtuous act is inspired by a dark secret.

They claim a hidden corner of our hearts, all those moments that stay with us unscreamed. That's where loves, like elephants, drag themselves to die. It's the place where pride allows itself to cry.

assassin grief, he'd once called it: the kind of grief that lies in wait and attacks from ambush, with no warning and no mercy. I know now that assassin grief can hide for years and the strike suddenly, on the happiest day, without discernible reason or exegesis.