secrets

Sir Henry fixed him with a keen eye.'Odd name, Tom Skatt - eh?''Thats right''You don't think we could be related?'Tom looked up at his great-great-great-uncle and smiled.'I don't think so''No,' grinned Sir Henry "no, of course not

Learn to be friendly and learn to welcome all people, but note however in doing so that it is not every hand that is stretched towards you that deserves your handshake!

And when I realized you had secrets too, I was glad. I thought we could be honest with each other. That we could finally rid ourselves of all the clutter from our past. Not our possessions, but the stuff we carry around inside our heads. Because that's what I've realized, living in One Folgate Street. You can make your surroundings as polished and empty as you like. But it doesn't really matter if you're still messed up inside. And that's all anyone's looking for really, isn't it? Someone to take care of the mess inside our heads?

Without trust, our relationships lack an essential ingredient for emotional intimacy. We need to be able to totally trust our partner with our deepest thoughts, dreams, fears, and secrets.

One of the biggest problem is to notice everything,Secrets and lies kill relationships.

Lies don't end relationships the truth does.

I want your scars, your darkness, your secrets. I want to see the interior of your soul.

Eli . . ._ I rasped. I lost track of where his kisses landed, where his fingers touched, and grew too comfortable in his arms. __ can__.___ou can,_ he urged, pulling back and grinding my hips against his. Heat quickly rushed to my cheeks. __ have you. I found you, and I__ not letting you go.___ou don____ Eli__ mouth crashed down on mine, stealing a kiss, and I freakin_ lost it. His mouth was absolutely sinful and there was nothing gentle about him, either. Eli was out for something good and was determined to get it. Euphoria sliced through my drunken haze and I grinned as I kissed him back. When his hands slid up my dress and his tongue pushed past my teeth, I moaned loudly and wrapped my legs around his waist.Just this. I can do this.Eli__ fingers inched closer to my panties and I threw my head back against the building to catch my breath.Oh, my God.Lights flashed behind my eyes and the red and blue spots showered over me like rain. __-I have a wedding tomorrow. My friend__,_ I muttered, almost pulling away. To my ears, it didn__ even sound like a coherent sentence.__ielo, I don__ really care._ Eli glanced up at me from his place between my flushed breasts and leaned in to suck my bottom lip into his mouth.____ drunk.___ood._ His hand beneath my dress tugged and I heard the audible rip of my panties. __o am I.

When women are secret they are secret indeed and more often then not they only begin to be secret with the advent of a second lover.

There are so many movies like this, where you thought you were smarter than the screen but the director was smarter than you, of course he's the one, of course it was a dream, of course she's dead, of course, it's hidden right there, of course it's the truth and you in your seat have failed to notice in the dark.

There are two kinds of secrets. The ones we keep from others and the ones we keep from ourselves.

There is no success where there are no secrets.

People always want to know things . . . until they hear them, and then it's too late. Knowledge is a rug of a certain size, and the world is larger. It's not what remains uncovered at the edges that should worry you, rather what is swept beneath.

The man who believes that the secrets of the world are forever hidden lives in mystery and fear. Superstition will drag him down. The rain will erode the deeds of his life. But that man who sets himself the task of singling out the thread of order from the tapestry will by the decision alone have taken charge of the world and it is only by such taking charge that he will effect a way to dictate the terms of his own fate.

The secret of all greatness is knowing what to do with time.

The secret of all greatness is in knowing what to do with time. The secret of all the great men and women in history is that they converted their time into tangible products.

Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets.

There is no quarrel between science and spirituality. I often hear people of science trying to use it to prove the nonexistence of the spiritual, but I simply can't see a chasm in between the two. What is spiritual produces what is scientific and when science is used to disprove the spiritual, it's always done with the intent to do so; a personal contempt. As a result, scientists today only prove their inferiority to the great founding fathers of the sciences who were practitioners of alchemy. Today's science is washed-out and scrubbed-down and robbed of everything mystical and spiritual, a knowledge born of contempt and discontent. Or perhaps, there are a few who wish to keep those secrets to themselves and serve everyone else up with a tasteless version of science and the idiots of today blindly follow their equally blind leaders.