Best 3188 quotes in «secret quotes» category

It was as though he had secrets, and he wanted you to know he would keep them for the pleasure of depriving you of their taste.

It was difficult to say which were the more dismal, these deserted streets that wandered away to right and left, or the great main thoroughfare with its narcotic and shadowy life. For the latter appeared vast, interminable, grey, and those who travelled by it were scarcely real, the bodies of the living, but rather the uncertain and misty shapes that come sand go across the desert in an Eastern tale, when men look up from the sand and see a caravan pass them, all in silence, without a cry or a greeting. So they passed and repassed each other on those pavements, appearing and vanishing, each intent on his own secret, and wrapped in obscurity.

It was gentler here, softer, its seethe the quietest of whispers, as if, in deference to a drawing room, it had quite deliberately put on its 'manners'; it kept itself out of sight, obliterated itself, but distinctly with an air of saying, 'Ah, but just wait! Wait till we are alone together! Then I will begin to tell you something new! Something white! something cold! something sleepy! something of cease, and peace, and the long bright curve of space! Tell them to go away. Banish them. Refuse to speak. Leave them, go upstairs to your room, turn out the light and get into bed - I will go with you, I will be waiting for you, I will tell you a better story than Little Kay of the Skates, or The Snow Ghost - I will surround your bed, I will close the windows, pile a deep drift against the door, so that none will ever again be able to enter. Speak to them!...' It seemed as if the little hissing voice came from a slow white spiral of falling flakes in the corner by the front window - but he could not be sure. ("Silent Snow, Secret Snow")

It was the only lie she ever told. She did not do it to protect Francisco; she did it because she felt, for some reason which she could not define, that the incident was a secret too precious to share.

I used to think there was a secret when it came to success, until I read a shit load of books and posts and realized the secret is the millionaires are getting rich off idiots like me who believe there truly is a secret.

I will become an ocean and make you my greatest secret ever, I'll keep thousands of demons to guard my secret. I'll create storms that none has ever seen. I will lure everyone to the darkest sides and will destroy them if they try to reach you and see what I am hiding back in my heart.

I was beginning to agree with the thesis that some truths were better off dead. And buried.

I was amazed, shocked, and sickened by what I heard throughout the day, over and over, by many victims' stories. I can think of no one with whom I didn't recognize a common thread. These monsters, these evil priests, used the same words and methods on all of us. With each session, I would find something that sent a cold chill down my spine. It amazed and frightened me that the actual words used on me, to rape me, to rape me, were the same as the words used on so many others from all over the United States. You would think that all these priests either were educated in how to concur and rape us, or they met privately with each other to compare notes and develop their plan of attack on us. The pattern was so much the same, with the same words, that you would swear it was scripted and disbursed to these priests. Do they secretly have closed-door meetings on how to abuse us? A chilling thought. Neary's routine of saying the “Our Father” during the rape and making me say it with him, repeating the “thy will be done” over and over, the absolution given me after he “finished,” the threats of having God take my parents away, the lectures about offering my suffering up to God, etc., etc., etc. My experience was identical, word-for-word, to that of many others. The exact words during the abuse were not just close, but exactly the same, as if it were some kind of abuse ritual. Ritual abuse is not limited to the religious definition and can include compulsive, abusive behavior performed in an exact series of steps with little variation. How could these similarities occur without the priests taking the same “abuse seminar” together some place, somehow? Was it taught in the seminary? In some dark corner? It goes beyond coincidence—the similarities in deeds and verbiage that these predators use on us. It truly chilled me to the very marrow of my bones.

I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours. Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...

Little Pete. He’s not exactly just Astrid’s autistic brother.” He explained briefly while Toto added a chorus of “Sam believes that’s true” remarks. “How do we get Little Pete to do anything?” Dekka asked. “The last time Little Pete felt mortal danger he made the FAYZ,” Sam said. “He needs to be in mortal danger again.” Jack and Dekka exchanged a wary look, each wondering what the other had known or guessed about Little Pete. “Little Pete?” Jack asked. “That little kid has that kind of power?” “Yes,” Sam said simply. “Next to Pete, me, Caine, all of us, we’re like . . . like popguns compared to a cannon. We don’t even know what the limits of his powers are,” Sam said. “What we do know is we can’t communicate with him very well. We can’t even guess what he’s thinking.” “Little Pete,” Dekka muttered and shook her head. “I knew he was important, I got that a long time ago. But he can do that? He has that kind of power?” She pondered for a moment, nodded, and said, “I see why you kept it secret. It’s like having a nuclear weapon in the hands of, well, a little autistic kid.

Live your life in such a way that when a video coverage is taken of you either in light or in the darkness, it can receive an applause when it is shown in your chapel for everyone to view!

Lo nggak mesti tau dan mempertanyakan semuanya, Nin! Bikin capek aja. Ada yang lebih baik dibiarkan menjadi rahasia, Nin. Jalanin aja, biarkan mengalir

Look for the copper tablet-box, Undo its bronze lock, Open the door to its secret, Lift out the lapis lazuli tablet and read it, The story of that man, Gilgamesh, who went through all kinds of sufferings.

Relationships should be built on trust and truth.

Love is the secret language of the heart which everyone can understand.

Love should never be a secret and it should never, ever be forgotten.

Macey was across the table from me, and we glanced at each other—an unspoken dread lingering between us like the smell of olive oil and melting cheese, but beside me, Bex was unfazed, and I remembered the power of a secret.

Memories have big value,... look back look what you have lost (For a moment)..., look what you have been making with this something or somebody... (For a moment) and look now without it... That's value, this is what robots don't have but humanity have!

Nadhiri ni siri.

Ndoto za wachawi ni tofauti kidogo na ndoto takatifu. Wachawi wanapokuwa hawahitaji kusafiri kutoka sehemu moja kwenda nyingine, lakini wana hamu ya kuona wenzao wanafanya nini au wanasema nini, huwa wanalala ubavu mmoja upande wa kushoto kwa jina la mungu wao na la mashetani wote. Kisha wanatoa mvuke wa bluu midomoni mwao. Kupitia mvuke huo, kwa nguvu za Shetani na kwa ruhusa ya Mwenyezi Mungu, wataona na watasikia kila kinachofanyika upande wa pili. Kile wanachotaka kukiona na kukisikia hujifunua katika ufahamu wao kama taswira au maono, kutoka katika akili isiyotambua, ya watu wakifanya au wakisema kitu. Kama wanataka kujua siri za watu wengine, hata wale ambao si wachawi, watazijua kupitia ndoto hizo; kwa sababu ya makubaliano ya wazi, si ya siri, waliyoingia na Shetani. Makubaliano hayo si ya lelemama; yaani yale ambayo hufanywa kwa kutoa kafara ya mnyama, au kufuru ya aina yoyote ile kwa Mwenyezi Mungu, au kwa kuabudu dini za kichawi. Lakini ni kwa sadaka halisi ya wao wenyewe ya mwili na roho kwa Shetani na kwa kufuru ya kuikana kabisa, imani ya Mwenyezi Mungu. Lakini hiyo ni kwa wale wanaotumia uchawi wa kishetani. Wale wanaotumia uchawi wa asili, kama vile kutumia risasi kumroga mtu kwa sababu risasi mungu wake ni sayari ya Zohali, au wale walioingia mkataba wa siri na Shetani, hawana uwezo wa kuota hivyo. Hivyo, si kila mchawi anaweza kuota ndoto za namna hiyo, ni kwa wale tu walioingia mkataba wa wazi na Shetani.

Never hang your dirty laundry in public, the wind might blow it everywhere.

Nobody knows what is life and still alive

Nonsense. Everyone knows Canadians are a peaceful people.” He was laughing now. “Tell that to the White House circa 1812,” I told him. “Oh? Why?” “Because that’s the year the peace-loving Canadians burned it to the ground.” Dominick grabbed an empty bottle and jumped onto his chair. The room got silent in an instant as everyone paused to look at him. “Cheers to 1812.” He lifted his empty bottle. The whole room whooped and raised their full glasses, howling in unison. I could barely hear over the sound of my own laughter.

Nothing is rigid. Things change. You can change your mind. You can change your thinking.

Nu cunoaștem decât ceea ce îmblânzim, zise vulpea. Oamenii nu mai au timp să cunoască nimic. Cumpără lucruri de-a gata, de la neguțători. Cum însă nu există neguțători de prieteni, oamenii nu mai au prieteni. Dacă vrei să ai un prieten, îmblânzește-mă!

Of this poetry I’m left with the emptiness of an endless secret

One secret of life is that the reason life works at all is that not everyone in your tribe is nuts on the same day. Another secret is that laughter is carbonated holiness.

Or deep down, maybe there was more. Maybe I wanted someone to figure out who wrote the note and secretly come to my rescue. Maybe. I don’t know. But I was careful never to give myself away.

Our personal fears and emotions are at times stronger than public danger. By keeping them secret, we allow them to remain malignant. You need to be able to articulate something if you want it to go away, and to do that, you must acknowledge that it exists.

Peace is the greatest state that Human minds ever longed to find Delight,Peace is as well the secret act that makes a Creative Heart renowned.

People have always expected the end of the world to be a dramatic, thematic event: war, disease, a sudden explosion. But what if the end of the world has already occurred? What if our final demise happened slowly, secretly … and we’ve been oblivious to it all?

People say- 'NASA lies.' I say- 'the moon knows it all. Look at the moon and forget the spinning flat world.

Political prisoners describe: - extreme physical and emotional torture - distortion of language, truth, meaning and reality - sham killings - begin repeatedly taken to the point of death or threatened with death - being forced to witness abusive acts on others - being forced to make impossible "choices" - boundaries smashed i.e. by the use of forced nakedness, shame, embarrassment - hoaxes, 'set ups', testing and tricks - being forced to hurt others Ritual abuse survivors often describe much the same things.

Pudge/Colonel: "I am sorry that I have not talked to you before. I am not staying for graduation. I leave for Japan tomorrow morning. For a long time, I was mad at you. The way you cut me out of everything hurt me, and so I kept what I knew to myself. But then even after I wasn't mad anymore, I still didn't say anything, and I don't even really know why. Pudge had that kiss, I guess. And I had this secret. You've mostly figured this out, but the truth is that I saw her that night, I'd stayed up late with Lara and some people, and then I was falling asleep and I heard her crying outside my back window. It was like 3:15 that morning, maybe, amd I walked out there and saw her walking through the soccer field. I tried to talk to her, but she was in a hurry. She told me that her mother was dead eight years that day, and that she always put flowers on her mother's grave on the anniversary but she forgot that year. She was out there looking for flowers, but it was too early-too wintry. That's how I knew about January 10. I still have no idea whether it was suicide. She was so sad, and I didn't know what to say or do. I think she counted on me to be the one person who would always say and do the right things to help her, but I couldn"t. I just thought she was looking for flowers. I didn't know she was going to go. She was drunk just trashed drunk, and I really didn't think she would drive or anything. I thought she would just cry herself to sleep and then drive to visit her mom the next day or something. She walked away, and then I heard a car start. I don't know what I was thinking. So I let her go too. And I'm sorry. I know you loved her. It was hard not to." Takumi

Read because you’re tired of secrets.

Repression. Her therapist, Dr. Solomon, loved the word. He'd say it slowly, letting it roll off his tongue. Sometimes he'd add a chin stroke for good measure. He always looked pleased when he did this, like he'd discovered the Caramilk secret or something.

Ritualised child sexual abuse is about abuse of power, control and secrecy. Ten years ago many people found it difficult to believe that fathers actually raped their children, yet survivors of such abuses spoke out and eventually began to be listened to and believed. Ritual abuse survivors, when they try to speak out about their experiences, face denial and disbelief from society and often fear for their lives from the abusers.

Sarah Lynn strides out of the stairwell. Lawrence watches her go. The door slushes shut behind her, and he turns to me with a tightened jaw. I want to tell him: No, no, you've got it all wrong. I don't care if you kiss a white girl. I don't care if you love a white girl. I just wish you'd chosen a white girl worthy of your love. Lawrence's Adam's apple jerks up and down, and I realize that in addition to whatever else he's feeling, he's scared. He's in love with the darling of the school, Sarah Lynn Lancaster, ad he's afriad I'll expose his secret. I give a tiny shake of my head, wanting him to know he has nothing to fear, not from me.

Seated across is a silent affair looking into my eyes; blurring the loud scenery. An incapable dream, an unimagined union-I whisper. Then you close your eyes and your soul yells my name. I cradle your peace back-with a sigh and kiss your thought away. Because we are an incomplete pair of Romeo and Juliet left alive by the Montagues and the Capulets; killed by the distance of the sun and the moon.

Seek a secret, court danger. Bury a secret, avoid anger." ~ Angelica Hopes, If I Could Tell You

Sex only makes people more like themselves. A powerful, secretive woman becomes only more powerful and more secretive in the throes of passion.

She'd started swimming early in the morning, when the kids were asleep, when she thought he was asleep. She didn't know her absence woke him, that the shift in the bed was an earthquake. When she climbed back in, she smelled like salt and seaweed. Sometimes her hair would still be knotted on top of her head. She tried to keep it dry. She didn't want him to know. The problem with marrying the mermaid girl from the carnival was knowing that one day she'd swim away.

She guarded herself like a secret.

She raised her head when she heard my step, and her gaze met my own, over the matron's dipping shoulder, and her eyes grew bright. I knew then how hard it had been to keep, not just from Millbank but from her. I felt that little quickening. It was just as I imagine a woman must feel, when the baby within her gives its first kick. Does it matter if I feel that, that is so small, and silent, and secret?

She told her secret love, not me, i could’nt speak, i smiled.

She wasn't my kind of woman and that's why, that night she was. This wine is the Blood of Christ. Brings the truth out of a woman sooner than any confession box does. Makes you trust a stranger with your life, your car keys, your best-guarded secret.

Sina jinsi. Nguzo ya maisha yangu ni historia ya maisha yangu. Historia ya maisha yangu ni urithi wa watu waliojifunza kusema hapana kwa ndiyo nyingi – waliojitolea vitu vingi katika maisha yao kunifikisha hapa nilipo leo – walionifundisha falsafa ya kushindwa si hiari. Siri ya mafanikio yangu ni kujitahidi kwa kadiri ya uwezo wangu wote; au 'pushing the envelope' kwa lugha ya kigeni.

Since the emergence of Facebook, so many persons have become so vulnerable that they no longer have any secret

Siri ya mafanikio ni shida!

Smartass Disciple: Master, what is the secret recipe of your happiness? Master of Stupidity: If I tell you, there is nobody left to be made fun of.