secret

Stay upbeat and keep your head held high. There is no end to the power of positive thinking. I AM looking forward to all the wealth, success, and abundance speeding my way!

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and nights.

To fall in love twice, with the same person, you need to grow another heart. That's all I do in my secret underground laboratory at night...

He'd failed them, the swimming goldfish of his life's tiny existence whom he held so dear in his heart; he'd turned his muses into mistakes and no one knew the difference but him.

Here is my secret. It__ quite simple: One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.

Heart can keep a secret, but face is not a good secret keeper! So what heart knows, face will expose it!

This is the secret of the golden flower: if the heart can die the flower will bloom, die as you are so you can be reborn.

One should never trust a woman who tells one her real age. A woman who would tell one that would tell one anything.

God__ secrets are always revealed to us, the children of God

Any good marriage is secret territory, a necessary white space on society__ map. What others don__ know about it is what makes it yours.

You okay, Mum?" said Rob."I'm fine," said Rachel. She went to reach for her cup of coffee and found that she didn't have the energy to even lift her arm.

THE OLD MAN IN THE CORNERThe man in the cornerIs dying with wordsHe's crying to be heardHis days are markedAnd his only ears are birdsHe knows the secret to peaceAnd his experience bleeds and hurtsSomebody stop and listenBefore he departs the earth!Somebody write his thoughtsBefore he hits the turf!His eyes are closing their shuttersAnd he just dropped hisBeads and stick.His breath is leaving us.Please!Somebody hear him out quick!A little girl rushes to him andPicks up his cane of wood.The old man then turns to herAnd faintly whispers,"The key to peace isTo always stay fairAnd be good.

An evil can only be killed by another kind of evil, because the pure spirit of peace can not do killing.

He sank back into his black-and-white world, his immobile world of inanimate drawings that had been granted the secret of motion, his death-world with its hidden gift of life. But that life was a deeply ambiguous life, a conjurer's trick, a crafty illusion based on an accidental property of the retina, which retained an image for a fraction of a second after the image was no longer present. On this frail fact was erected the entire structure of the cinema, that colossal confidence game. The animated cartoon was a far more honest expression of the cinematic illusion than the so-called realistic film, because the cartoon reveled in its own illusory nature, exulted in the impossible--indeed it claimed the impossible as its own, exalted it as its own highest end, found in impossibility, in the negation of the actual, its profoundest reason for being. The animated cartoon was nothing but the poetry of the impossible--therein lay its exhilaration and its secret melancholy. For this willful violation of the actual, while it was an intoxicating release from the constriction of things, was at the same time nothing but a delusion, an attempt to outwit mortality. As such it was doomed to failure. And yet it was desperately important to smash through the constriction of the actual, to unhinge the universe and let the impossible stream in, because otherwise--well, otherwise the world was nothing but an editorial cartoon.

I know I can't own a hilltop, a meadow, or a mountainside. But keeping it a secret somehow makes it mine.

If the private life of the sea could ever be transposed onto paper, it would talk not about rivers or rain or glaciers or of molecules of oxygen and hydrogen, but of the millions of encounters its waters have shared with creatures of another nature.

Listen to the trees as they sway in the wind.Their leaves are telling secrets. Their bark sings songs of olden days as it grows around the trunks. And their roots give names to all things.Their language has been lost.But not the gestures.

But it is no use to justify yourself. It is no good to explain. It is weak to be anecdotal. It is wise to conceal the past even if there is nothing to conceal. A man's power is in the half-light, in the half-seen movements of his hand and the unguessed-at expression of his face. It is the absence of facts that frightens people: the gap you open, into which they pour their fears, fantasies, desires.