Quotes About Secrecy

It is surprising how well one writes if one thinks no one will read.

Not afraid of poverty and drabness and who is untouched by it, untouched by the drunkenness of her friends; (she) who judges, selects, discards people with severity, who knows, when she is telling her endless anecdotes, that they are ways of escape, keeping herself all the more secret behind that profuse talk.

La vérité d'un homme c'est d'abord ce qu'il cache.

Familles, je vous hais! foyers clos; portes refermées; possessions jalouses du bonheur.

He never reveals anything personal about himself, and he becomes enraged if I try to steer the conversation in that direction. So I don't. But if I were to speculate, I'd say that he's not just insane, he's still part child himself. He has three sides to him -- the child, the gentleman, and the lunatic.

It is difficult to accept how deep and wide the cover up of 9/11 actually is. The very magnitude of this cover up is enough to make many people scoff, roll their eyes or utter a sentence including a phrase such as "conspiracy theorist".

so many issues and problems in a male dominated world derive from the aggressive, secretive and often insensitive masculine ego.

Because she was raw and uncertain, and she liked to keep all the messy parts of herself to herself. ... As much as Lena liked to hide the mess and display the finished product, by this point she was all mess and no product.

She wasn't comfortable with the term boyfriend even when she did have one, and she hated everybody knowing her private business.

Somebody's noticing the immigrant crime wave: Google illegal alien crime and you'll get more than 2 million hits. Google immigrant crime and you'll get 40 million. Only our government and media refuse to notice. Then they turn around and denounce anyone else's estimate, saying: You don't know that. So tell us! We "don't know that" only because the people in a position to know have decided to keep it secret.

All week I kept the awful secret of my adoption to myself. I didn't even tell Stacey what I'd discovered, and Stacey is my best friend in the world. I wanted to talk to Stacey, but I couldn't. Not yet. There must, I thought, be some terrible reason for keeping my adoption a secret, but what could the terrible reason be?

Stace, who's in eighth grade with me, is the club secretary;

I was used to hiding magazines inside my Bible so I'd have something to read during Father's sermons. I never would have dreamed that someday I'd be doing it the other way around.

ABDITIVE  (A'BDITIVE)   adj.[from abdo, to hide.] That which has the power or quality of hiding.Dict.  

I am not to know the contents of his Letter. The hearts of us women, when we are urged to give way to a clandestine and unequal address, or when inclined to favour such a one, are apt, and are pleaded with, to rise against the notions of bargain and sale. Smithfield bargains, you Londoners call them:

Dispensing with the frivolity, he kissed her meaningfully. When at last he pulled away, her troubled expression alarmed him. What? Be careful, Hammond. No one will know I was here. She shook her head. Not that. Then what? You may have to put me on trial for my life. Please be careful that you don't make me fall in love with you first.

Dean Malloy eased himself off the bed. Groping in darkness, he located his underwear on the floor and took it with him into the bathroom. As quietly as he could, he closed the door before switching on the light

I m not about to tell him that I am just like Anna and Emma, an adulteress. My books are my secret lovers, the friends I run to to get away from the daily drudgeries of life, to try out something new, and yes, to get away, for a few hours, from him. He doesn't need to know that my books are the affairs I don't have.

At least she had a clear picture of what the Lying Game was now: Girl Scouts for psychopaths.

He wanted to believe nothing had happened, that their night on the river ended like any other night.

But who am I if I'm not Janie the bulimic? Bulimia has become so much a part of me that I can't remember what it felt like not to purge. It's been this secret that I have hidden from my parents and my friends (well, except for Nancy) and the rest of the world. It's the way I can let off the pressure of always feeling like I'm not smart enough, I'm not thin enough, not pretty enough, not funny enough, just plain not enough enough.

So I learned another system: When in doubt, keep it out – out of earshot, out of the house – even if this meant, really, just keeping it in.

How it seemed like you could see everything, but certain things were blocked out, hidden.

The dark was still a mystery, something hidden, something to be scared of, but I'd come to fear the light, too. It was where everything was revealed, or seemed to be.