Quotes About Secrecy

The truth never shines forth, as the saying goes, because the only truth is that which is known to no one and which remains untransmitted, that which is not translated into words or images, that which remains concealed and unverified, which is perhaps why we do recount so much or even everything, to make sure that nothing has ever really happened, not once it's been told.

It's a very long penis Johnny has, and a smooth one, smooth as ivory. She compliments him on it and he says thank you. But they have to hide it. It is too big to hide under the sheets, and it keeps getting bigger as she talks about it and touches it. It's so big that it disappears over the edge of the bed and out the window.

Gyermekkorodban, ahogy nÅ'ttél, úgy erÅ'södött benned a gyanú, hogy mindenki más be van avatva valami alapvetÅ' titokba, mely elÅ'tted zárva maradt. A többiek mind tudták, hogy mit csinálnak.

Lucy frowned. "What's the Three-S rule?" "Shoot, shovel and shut up.

She knew enough about him to realize that no one would ever understand him unless he wished it, and that was highly unlikely. He was a man who operated alone, working by his own rules even when he was doing a job for his employers. Emily thought of him in the same way she thought of hurricanes, charging lions and marauding sharks. The only sensible thing to do when any of them was in the vicinity was to get out of the way.

Don't analyze me. We've got a whole department of shrinks on the payroll for that.

Nothing is true but what is never said.

Everything is competing to show its good will. Things tend irresistibly towards perfection, effusiveness, reconciliation. Fortunately, nothing is ever perfect, thanks to Dostoevsky's 'unspeakable little demon ... that evil spirit that prompts to murder and scorn.' Everything tends irresistibly towards transparency. However, there remains a glimmer of secrecy - a clandestine dust-breeding that is mostly useless, an umbilical mirage, insider trading, but secret all the same.

They say there is always a photographic moment to be seized where the most banal of beings yield up their secret identity. But what is interesting is their secret alterity, and rather than looking for the identity beneath the appearances, we should look for the mask beneath the identity, the figure which haunts us and diverts us from our identities -- the masked divinity which, in effect, haunts each of us for a moment, one day or another.

Amid the luxurious freshness of Ipanema each building has its own secret police.

We can bear ideas and events only when laundered by commentary, like the dirty money concealed by banking secrecy. 'In the heart and the belly it continues to sing its poisonous song - Better to kill a child than to harbour unsatisfied desires within oneself' (Kenzaburo Oe). Ressentiment is an empty, useless passion only if it assumes a sentimental form.

It has to be written, if only to lock away the real key to the story in a single page, and remove that page once the book is finished, so that no one will know what it is all about - as ever, the perfect crime. However, it must be possible for that page to be reconstituted without its secret being revealed, and this dispersal is the very mainspring of theoretical fiction.

Sorumluluk, denetleme, sansür ve kendi kendini cayd?rma olay? her zaman için sahip olunan güç ve silahlardan daha h?zl? bir tempoda geliÅŸmektedir. Zaten toplumsal düzenin s?rr? da burada yatmaktad?r.

It was all he could do not to laugh, the lives of the vast majority of authors being far more private than they likely wished. Maybe Stephen King or John Grisham got approached in the supermarket by a quavering person extending pen and paper, but for most writers, even reliably published and actually self-supporting writers, the privacy was thunderous.

I thought if I told no one it might not be true.

Stephan was secretive and a liar, but he was a very gentle and expert lover. She was the petted, cherished child, the desired mistress, the worshipped, perfumed goddess. She was all these things to Stephan - or so he made her believe.

It was a beautiful place - wild, untouched, above all untouched, with an alien, disturbing, secret loveliness. And it kept its secret. I'd fins myself thinking, 'What I see is nothing - I want what it hides - that is not nothing'.

But they left their treasure, gold and more gold. Some of it is found- but the finders never tell, because you see they'd only get one-third then: that's the law of treasure. They want it all, so never speak of it.

Lois doesn't want to be given away; she doesn't want anybody to know, and I assure you that that's all she cares about. Of course, she'll be furious if anybody knows, and that's why if you go off in a hurry you will make things difficult for me.' She felt hypnotized as she listened to him, impotent.

I don't like answering private questions. The answers are often ambiguous and can be interpreted in different ways. Even when the other person is close to you.

Written on the body is a secret code only visible in certain lights: the accumulations of a lifetime gather there. In places the palimpsest is so heavily worked that the letters feel like Braille. I like to keep my body rolled up away from prying eyes, never unfold too much, or tell the whole story. I didn't know that Louise would have reading hands. She has translated me into her own book.

Know thyself,' said Socrates. Know thyself,' said Sappho, 'and make sure that the Church never finds out.

Are we all living like this? Two lives, the ideal outer life and the inner imaginative life where we keep our secrets?

Don't you, when strangers and friends come to call, straighten the cushions, kick the books under the bed and put away the letter you were writing? How many of us want any of us to see us as we really are? Isn't the mirror hostile enough?