Quotes About Secrecy

Shell companies can be owned by other shell companies; opaque offshore vehicles are carefully designed so that regulators can't identify who is using them; with the right accountants, they can be set up quickly and easily.

The sinner will not confess, nor will the priest receive his confession, if the veil of secrecy is removed.

Lawyers, judges, doctors, shrinks, accountants, investigators and, not least, journalists could not do the most basic tasks without a veil of secrecy. Why shouldn't the same be true of those professionals who happen to be government officials?

I don't really like talking about my personal life. I like a certain amount of veil.

Lifting the veil of secrecy that shrouds police misconduct allegations would seem like an obvious democratic value. After all, if police work for the people, should they not be answerable to the people, as well? This is a basic tenet of good government.

I like to show subjects inside a sealed veneer. There's a sense that you can't get in.

The building I most admire is the Doges Palace in Venice, both by day and by night. Looking at it from the lagoon, it resembles a floating kilim carpet. I love all the bridges which connect houses, people, gardens and palaces. I also love moats to isolate yourself. A ha-ha for secrecy, as in every English country garden.

So much of what I do is so strictly confidential that it's nice to be able to discuss or vent or laugh about something and not read about it in the newspaper the next day.

I know exactly what my songs are about and I try not to tell people, because a friend of mine really loves 'Stop Your Tears' and I made the mistake of telling her what it's about one day. Now she has to distract herself and look elsewhere when I sing the last verse about being at the river with the baby, because she knows too much.

Once they have been to bed together, they will have to find something else to conceal the enormous absurdity of their existence.

No. Don't look up. I know what you're hid-ing with your hands. I know you've no face left.

It would be much too difficult for anyone to get in and out of this area, especially if they were carrying questionable loads of body parts and the like.

And so there we were, balanced on a knife edge that was unfortunately only metaphorical. Sooner or later, I had to be me. But until then I would see an awful lot of Rita. She couldn't hold a candle to my old flame, the Dark Passenger, but I did need my secret identity. And until I escaped Doakes, Rita was my cape, red tights, and utility belt—almost the entire costume.

Oddly enough, I had found somebody. What, what? Deeply dead Dexter dating débutante doxies? Sex among the Undead? Has my need to imitate life gone all the way to faking orgasms?

The real question at this point, and it was an awkward one, was how to tell Deborah that all this was happening because somebody had seen me in flagrante delicto.

And, apparently, extremely effective. "All right," she said, and she actually squeezed my hand. "I won't say anything." I

He didn't even try. He just stared at me for another long moment. There was nothing to hide under, so I just looked back, and finally he turned back to Deborah. "I won't rat out my own son, Sergeant," he said, in a voice that was almost a hiss. "No matter what you think he's done.

Of course, Rita would never know what I really was, not if I could help it. I had worked very hard to keep her blissfully ignorant of the true me, Dexter the Dark, the cheerful vivisectionist who lived for the purr of duct tape, the gleam of the knife, and the smell of fear rising up from a truly deserving playmate who had earned his ticket to Dexterland by slaughtering the innocent and somehow slipping through the gaping cracks in the justice system.… Rita

Secrecy and deception in war is often how one wins that war. And it is my preference that we win this fight.

At the front door I spit on the hinges to keep them from squealing and we eased it silently open.

I was satisfied that it would be virtually impossible for Loving to find any connection. "Call him." I handed Ryan a mobile, a flip phone, black, a little larger than your standard Nokia or Samsung. "What's this?" "A cold phone. Encrypted and routed through proxies. From now on, until I tell you otherwise, use only this phone." I collected theirs and took out the batteries. Ryan

Another thing about the outbuilding. The designers completely soundproofed the place. The reason for this was so that the principals couldn't hear threats or demands coming from the outside. The corollary was that neither could you hear screams from inside. Night

Zip. He's the most careful OC boss I've ever investigated. Nothing's committed to paper or computer or phone. He doesn't even give direct orders when he's alone with his crew. He hints, he

Stop fussing, honey. It won't be the first time James has seen a man's stomach. It's not the first time I've seen that one, thought James.