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"There're things we keep hidden from one another. Things we hide from ourselves. Things that are kept hidden from us. And things no one knows. You always learn the damnedest things at the worst possible times."
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"If I maintain my silence about my secret it is my prisoner...if I let it slip from my tongue, I am ITS prisoner."

"We are suffocated by writers who want to enlighten us with their truths. For me, the theatre is beautiful because it is a secret, and secrets seduce us, we all want to share secrets."

"Ronan Lynch lived with every sort of secret."

"This is what happens. You tell your friends your most personal secrets, and they use them against you."

"Journalists belong in the gutter because that is where the ruling classes throw their guilty secrets."

"These are open secrets, so to speak. Of the kind we dare not articulate, for fear of wounding those close to us."

"I am not very good at keeping secrets at all! If you want your secret kept do not tell me!"
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"Now I feel like James Bond. Suave and intelligent, breaking all the codes while looking fabulous."

"So we get a plan," I said. "Any suggestions?""Blow up the building," Kincaid said without looking up. "That works good for vampires. Then soak what's left in gasoline. Set it on fire. Then blow it all up again.""For future reference, I was sort of hoping for a suggestion that didn't sound like it came from that Bolshevik Muppet with all the dynamite."

"Things are not always as bad as they seem. Sometimes, the darkness only makes it easier to see the light."

"It isn't about being fair and equal. It's about the difference between right and wrong." He stared out at the bloody Elinarch. "And this was wrong."

"...after a pointless delay for the humans to collect all their toys and keepsakes, he was able to take his rightful place in Littlemouse's arms and heard them all in the proper direction."

"I'd gone with my usual option. I was running through long tunnels filled with demons and monsters and nightmares, because it was easier than going to the gym."

"Do you know what I think?" Marcone said."You think we should shoot Nicodemus in the back at the first opportunity and let Michael dismember him.""Yes."I drew my gun. "Okay."

"You have a visitor, my lord." I frowned, "What?" "That is why I came in here. You have a visitor waiting for you." I stood up, exasperated. "Why didn't you say so?" Lacuna looked confused. "I did. Just now. You were there." She frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps you have brain damage." "It would not shock me in the least," I said."Would you like me to cut open your skull and check, my lord?" she asked. Someone that short should not be that disturbing."

"I am the foremost collector of velvet Elvii in the city of Chicago," I said at once. "Elvii?" Marcone inquired."The plural would be Elvises, I guess," I said. "But if I say that too often, I start muttering to myself and calling things 'my precious,' so I usually go with the Latin plural."
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