There is a theme that runs through my work, and that is: the toxic property of keeping secrets.
Oh, Grey, no one really likes keeping secrets. The only thing that makes a secret fun is knowing that you weren't supposed to tell it.
There is a lurking fear that some things are not meant to be known.
A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets.
You know there are no secrets in America. It's quite different in England, where people think of a secret as a shared relation between two people.
But it is important always to keep in mind that the danger of harming humans is not connected only or even mainly with telling secrets, there can be great danger in keeping secrets.
A man can keep another's secret better than his own. A woman her own better than others.
God could cause us considerable embarrassment by revealing all the secrets of nature to us: we should not know what to do for sheer apathy and boredom.
But, finally, I had to open my eyes. I had to stop keeping secrets. The truth, thankfully, is insistent. What I saw then made action necessary. I had to see people for who they were. I had to understand why I made the choices I did. Why I had given them my loyalty. I had to make changed. I had to stop allowing love to be dangerous. I had to learn how to protect myself. But first… I had to look
There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession.
My secrets must be poetic to be believable.
He who trusts secrets to a servant makes him his master
I'm a pretty bad liar, and I'm not very good at keeping secrets.
