Safest Place To Hide Quotes

You see colors no one else can see
In every breath you hear a symphony
You understand me like nobody can
I feel like my soul unfolding like a flower blooming
When this whole world gets too crazy
And there's nowhere left to go
I know you give me sanctuary
You're the only truth I know
You're the road back home. ~ Backstreet Boys

Some people are as angry as they seem to be only because it's the safest place to hide from more pain. ~ Ashly Lorenzana

But it was my parents I longed for mostly. I wanted to be a little girl again and cuddle into them, wriggling in between them like I'd done in their bed when I was three or four, snug and warm in the safest place in the world.
Instead I had Hell. ~ John Marsden

Once again she was struck by a sense of profound familiarity. She knew this place. In the story that her mother used to tell, the house had been a literal gateway to another world; for Elodie, though, curled up in her mother's arms, breathing in the exotic fragrance of narcissus that she wore, the story itself had been a gateway, an incantation that carried her away from the here and now and into the land of imagination. After her mother's death, the world of the story had become her secret place. Whether at lunchtime in her new school, or at home in the long, quiet afternoons, or at night when the darkness threatened suffocation, all she had to do was hide herself away and close her eyes and she could cross the river, brave the woods, and enter the enchanted house... ~ Kate Morton

Perhaps the greatest utopia would be if we could all realize that no utopia is possible; no place to run, no place to hide, just take care of business here and now. ~ Jack Carroll

Someone made the mistake of telling me the safest place in a lightning storm was in a car because of the grounding of the rubber tires. After that, at the first sound of thunder, I caterwauled until my parents would take me in the car until the storm subsided. I then proceeded to write about cars for the rest of my life. ~ Bruce Springsteen

The fire illuminated the water lights in his eyes. I had to step back sometimes to marvel at how blessed I was. This beautiful young man sitting by the hearth, waiting for me to join him. When I looked at him looking at me, it felt like we were bouncing light off each other.
I was scared that I wasn't up to it, that I'd spill the light on the floor.. The best times were on the stairs in Daniel's apartment building. It was easiest when I wasn't actually in his apartment, but contemplating it from close by. Our love was most manageable when there was no immediate risk that I would wreck it. Often I was overwhelmed by what was happening between us. It made me almost nauseous, as if I'd eaten too much sugar, or was gambling with sums of money I didn't have. I recognized the same symptom in Ming. She couldn't control her excitement at my return if I'd been out all day, so she'd have to hide in a bag until it was safe to come out. Then she'd panic and ricochet all over the place, skidding into walls, banging her head against furniture. It was just too much for her, the onslaught of joy coupled with the threat of its imminent demise. I knew exactly how that felt. ~ Claire Kilroy

In the first place, it would efface from everybody's
conscience the distinction between justice and injustice.
No society can exist unless the laws are respected to a cer-
tain degree, but the safest way to make them respected is
to make them respectable. When law and morality are in
contradiction to each other, the citizen finds himself in
the cruel alternative of either losing his moral sense, or of
losing his respect for the law - two evils of equal magni-
tude, between which it would be difficult to choose. ~ Frederic Bastiat

The dark is a quiet place. Reflection and contemplation are the only things to do in it. Well that, and imagine the worst things possible.
I don't have to reflect or contemplate or any of those things. I know what the worst things possible are. I know about the things that hide in the dark. Insanity is the least of them. ~ Tara Brown

Are you tired of hoping that someone else could fill the place that was meant for Me? Isee you, all of you, and you do not have to hide anymore. Isee your sin and I see your flaws and I still desire you as My own. I am crazy about you. Iam the answer for your longing. The "more" that your heart waits for is Me. ~ Angela Thomas

Any friendship that is worth its weight is like a dark and secret place where you hide bits of yourself. The door can be opened only by the two people who have the key, and you carry it with you wherever you go. Magnify that by a billion, and you begin to get an idea of what marriage is like. ~ Damien Echols

I can put on a hat, or put on a coat,
Or wear a pair of glasses or sail a boat. I can change all my names and find a place to hide. I can do most anything, but I'm still myself inside. I can go far away, or dream of anything, Or wear a scary costume or act like a king. I can change all my names and find a place to hide. I can do almost anything, but I'm still myself. I'm still myself. I'm still myself inside. ~ Fred Rogers

Yearning is not only a good way to go crazy but also a pretty good place to hide out from hard truth. ~ Claude Thomas Bissell

My mom and dad died, but in their place I got a house of fog that's easy to hide my feelings in. (No smoking, please.) ~ Jarod Kintz

I want to dive in the deepest trench,
get locked in the darkest room,
get lost in the biggest maze,
travel longest to the furthest place
but keep my heart on the safest place ... ~ Khushboo Suneja

It was once said that to hide something from prying eyes you must place it where people can see it. ~ Micheal Rivers

Young girl, don't cry
I'll be right here when your world starts to fall
Young girl, it's alright
Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly

When you're safe inside your room, you tend to dream
Of a place where nothing's harder than it seems
No one ever wants or bothers to explain
Of the heartache life can bring and what it means

When there's no one else, look inside yourself
Like your oldest friend, just trust the voice within
Then you'll find the strength that will guide your way
You'll learn to begin to trust the voice within


Young girl, don't hide
You'll never change if you just run away

Young girl, just hold tight
Soon you're gonna see your brighter day


Now in a world where innocence is quickly claimed
It's so hard to stand your ground when you're so afraid
No one reaches out a hand for you to hold
When you look outside, look inside to your soul

When there's no one else, look inside yourself
Like your oldest friend, just trust the voice within
Then you'll find the strength that will guide your way
If you will learn to begin to trust the voice within


Life is a journey
It can take you anywhere you choose to go
As long as you're learning
You'll find all you'll ever need to know
Be strong
You'll break it
Hold on
You'll make it
Be strong
Just don't fo ~ Christina Aguilera

What a strange place to leave a camera. Why would someone put it here? If it were valuable enough to hide in a secret cabinet, why didn't he take it with him? ~ R.L. Stine

I've always felt that the best place to hide a body is in the trunk of a cop car, with a note affixed to the body that reads, "I'm sorry. ~ Jarod Kintz

I thought I should ask of thee---but I dared not---the rose wreath thou hadst on thy neck. Thus I waited for the morning, when thou didst depart, to find a few fragments on the bed. And like a beggar I searched in the dawn only for a stray petal or two.

Ah me, what is it I find? What token left of thy love? It is no flower, no spices, no vase of perfumed water. It is thy mighty sword, flashing as a flame, heavy as a bolt of thunder. The young light of morning comes through the window and spread itself upon thy bed. The morning bird twitters and asks, `Woman, what hast thou got?' No, it is no flower, nor spices, nor vase of perfumed water---it is thy dreadful sword.

I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of thine. I can find no place to hide it. I am ashamed to wear it, frail as I am, and it hurts me when press it to my bosom. Yet shall I bear in my heart this honour of the burden of pain, this gift of thine.

From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and thou shalt be victorious in all my strife. Thou hast left death for my companion and I shall crown him with my life. Thy sword is with me to cut asunder my bonds, and there shall be no fear left for me in the world.

From now I leave off all petty decorations. Lord of my heart, no more shall there be for me waiting and weeping in corners, no more coyness and sweetness of demeanour. Thou hast given me thy sword for adornment. No more doll's decorations for me! ~ Rabindranath Tagore

You've done a thing you can't clean up, found a place you can't reach with mop or apology. The forever you've created branches like the hairline fracture in a pelvic bone, hides like a dirty Polaroid stored under a mattress, rises like hot blood to burn cheeks pretty with shame. Places you didn't even know you were signing your name will always be marked by your hand, but despite every new day's resolution to never do it again, you will. You'll look away from your own face in the mirror, pull the chain twice to hide from yourself in the dark, and when it's all over you won't say anything. You won't fucking say anything to anyone ever. ~ Tupelo Hassman

the unexpected truth that the safest place for a sinful person to go is to God. ~ Erwin Raphael McManus

Normal people began to see that a beard was not synonymous with honesty. It was simply a patchy place to hide one's lies. ~ Bassem Youssef

This place was as dark and carried the same scent of pine trees that was common to the forest. She could hear the wind lightly swaying the branches, but there were no sounds out of the ordinary. Everything seemed the same.
"What am I missing?" Ursula asked curiously, though she wondered whether Aleana had stopped just to see what she'd say or do.
Aleana giggled. "So the charm really does hide it from human sight." She gave the air a knock, and strangely there was a sound, just like she was knocking on wood. ~ Cailee Francis

I'm afraid to write. It's so dangerous. Anyone who's tried, knows. The danger of stirring up hidden things - and the world is not on the surface, it's hidden in its roots submerged in the depths of the sea. In order to write I must place myself in the void. In this void is where I exist intuitively. But it's a terribly dangerous void: it's where I wring out blood. I'm a writer who fears the snare of words: the words I say hide others - Which? maybe I'll say them. Writing is a stone cast down a deep well. ~ Clarice Lispector

Go hide," Jonas said softly. "Stay safe. You're free now. When this is over, no matter what happens, find someone loyal to Cato and say you need Nathanial's tracker off of you. I have plenty of money and everything you could possibly need. Find someone from-" Emmy slapped him across the face. Red blotches appeared on her cheeks. "Don't be daft. I'm going to kill that sonuvabitch Nathanial and earn my place among your people. Lead the way to this Sasha." "You don't know how to-" Another slap cut Jonas off. "Fair enough."

-Jonas & Emmy ~ K.F. Breene

After a hard day scrambling to find your way around in the world, it's assuring to come home to a place you know. God can be equally familiar to you. With time you can learn where to go for nourishment, where to hide for protection , where to turn for guidance. Just as your earthly house is a place of refuge, so God's house is a place of peace. ~ Max Lucado

The clock's pendulum catches the firelight, and in the rattle-breathed final moments of Jacob de Zoet, amber shadows in the far corner coagulate into a woman's form.
She slips between the bigger, taller onlookers unnoticed ...
... and adjusts her headscarf, the better to hide her burn.
She places her cool palms on Jacob's fever-glazed face.
Jacob sees himself, when he was young, in her narrow eyes.
Her lips touch the place between his eyebrows.
A well-waxed paper door slides open. ~ David Mitchell

VERY ODD, HOWEVER, Annabel was beginning to feel, how the stranger continued to hold the hand-sickle, at his side; now he'd turned to her, seeing her, yet without an air of surprise, as if he'd known she was there, observing him; he smiled, in a rapt sort of silence, as no gentleman would ever do, in fact; as if he and Annabel Slade had met by chance in a public place, or in some dimension in which the sexes might "meet" impersonally, like animals, with no names, no families - no identities. In that instant, Annabel felt both chilled and flushed with warmth; and somewhat faint; and had to resist the impulse to hide her (burning) face in the little bouquet of flowers she had picked, that the bold stranger would not stare so directly upon her with his penetrating gaze. A ~ Joyce Carol Oates

At one time or another, every warrior wishes to have an unconquerable fortress. Such as a fortress is perceived as a refuge, a place of defiance, or a rock upon which enemies can be goaded into smashing themselves to their own destruction.
Politicians, too, yearn for such a fortresses, though they envision them in terms of power and authority instead of stone and weapons and shields. Industrialists wish to be similarly protected against competitors and marauders, while pirates hope for defense against system of authorities. In one way or another, all people wish for ultimate safety.
But ultimately safety does not exist. Those who trust in such will find that hope dashed upon the very rock behind which they seek to hide. ~ Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn

Bill was - there was no other word for it - cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide. ~ J.K. Rowling

Isn't it funny, how often we meet our destiny in the very place we try to hide from it? ~ Aiki Flinthart

Once they leave to see to their other duties, I go to stand before the fire, feeling once again as if I have been completely upended and remade anew, when in truth, I have barely caught my breath from the first time my life shattered before my eyes.

But this- this is different. This is no shattering, but rather some great knitting together of the broken pieces into a stronger whole.

I feel cleansed, not only of sin- but of artifice. I am stripped down to nothing but my raw self. As uncomfortable as it makes me feel, there is freedom in it as well, for there is no place left for others' expectations and desires of me to hide. ~ Robin LaFevers

The world will be the safest place when we learn to love and forgive our enemies. ~ Debasish Mridha

If there's one thing I regret it's not having told my father how much I admired and loved him. My only gesture of affection was a quick kiss on the forehead two days before he died. The kiss tasted like sugar and I felt like a thief who furtively stole something that no longer belong to anybody. Why do we hide our feelings? Out of cowardice? Out of egotism? With a mother it's different: we cover her with flowers, gifts and sweet phrases. What is it that prevents us from affectionately confronting our father and telling him, face to face, how much we love or admire him? On the other hand, why do we curse him under our breath when he puts us in our place? Why do we react with wickedness and not affection when the occasion presents itself? Why are we brave with taunts and cowards with affection? Why did I never tell my father these things but I tell them to you, who are probably too young to understand them yet? One night I wanted to speak to my father ion his room but found him asleep. As I quietly began to leave the room, I heard my sleeping father, in a desperate voice, say: "No, papa, no!" What strange, agitated dream was my father experiencing with his father? And if one thing caught my attention, beyond the enigma of the dream, was that my father was seventy-eight years old at that time and my grandfather had been dead for at least a quarter of a century. Does a man have to die to speak to his father? ~ Juan Gabriel Vasquez

Music I discovered that night, was a sanctuary, a safe place to hide, a place where scars didn't matter, they didn't exist. ~ Len Vlahos

Besides the fact that you're a scoundrel at the gaming tables," she responded tartly, "I'm beginning to suspect that you're a womanizing rake."
Christopher grinned leisurely as his perusal swept her.
"I've been a long time at sea. However, I doubt that in your case my reaction would vary had I just left the London Court."
Erienne's eyes flared with poorly suppressed ire. The insufferable egotist! Did he dare think he could find a willing wench at the back door of the mayor's cottage?
"I'm sure that Claudia Talbot would welcome your company, sir. Why don't you ride on over to see her? I hear his lordship traveled off to London this morning."
He laughed softly at her sneering tones. "I'd rather be courting you."
"Why?" she scoffed. "Because you want to thwart my father?"
His smiling eyes captured hers and held them prisoner until she felt a warmth suffuse her cheeks. He answered with slow deliberation. "Because you are the prettiest maid I've ever seen, and I'd like to get to know you better. And of course, we should delve into this matter of your accidents more thoroughly, too."
Twin spots of color grew in her cheeks, but the deepening dusk did much to hide her blush. Lifting her nose primly in the air, Erienne turned aside, tossing him a cool glance askance. "How many women have you told that to, Mr. Seton?"
A crooked smile accompanied his reply. "Several, I suppose, but I've never lied. Each had their place in time, and t ~ Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

No need to run because no place to hide ~ Gievie Godvoice

The safest place to be is in the center of God's will. ~ Corrie Ten Boom

To Be the Famous..."

To be the famous isn't attractive,
Not this could ever elevate,
You needn't to make your archive active,
You needn't your scripts to be all saved.

Self-offering's aimed by creation,
But ballyhoo or cheap success,
It is a shame, if worthless persons
Are talks of towns' populace.

But you've to live without phony,
To live such life that, after all,
To gain love of the space symphony,
And answer to the future's call,

And oft to leave gaps in your traces
In fate, but in the papers, crooked,
To mark the chapters and main places
On margins of your being's book,

To fully sink in the unknown,
And hide in it your own steps
Like hide itself, if mist is grown,
The whole landscape of the place.

The others, by the living traces,
Will pass your way through, bit by bit,
But wins and losses of your battles
You have not to discern on it.

You've never – not by fate or folly –
To lose an atom of your face,
But – be alive, alive and only,
Alive and only, till your last. ~ Boris Pasternak

There was no one else to blame anymore. No Bores or Old Ladies or Nortons, or Assassins waiting at the bridge. And there was no place to hide-no place across any river for a boatman to take us.
Our life would be what we made of it-nothing more, nothing less.
Baboons.
Baboons.
They build their own cages, we could almost hear the Pigman whisper, as he took his children with him. ~ Paul Zindel

Don't look so stiff and concerned, bucko. Word from the wise, sometimes there's no better place to hide than in the open, and no better way to disappear than to stand out."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Sure it does. Hogan wrote it years and years ago - you do know who Hogan is right? ~ Gillian Bronte Adams

...for those who value stability, who fear transience, uncertainty, change, have erected a powerful system of stigmas and taboos against rootlessness, that disruptive, anti-social force, so that we mostly conform, we pretend to be motivated by loyalties and solidarities we do not really feel, we hide our secret identities beneath the false skins of those identities which bear the belongers' seal of approval. But the truth leaks out in our dreams; alone in our beds (because we are all alone at night, even if we do not sleep by ourselves), we soar, we fly, we flee. And in the waking dreams our societies permit, in our myths, our arts, our songs, we celbrate the non-belongers, the different ones, the outlaws, the freaks. What we forbid ourselves we pay good money to watch, in a playhouse or movie theatre, or to read about between the secret covers of a book. Our libraries, our palaces of entertainment tell the truth. The tramp, the assassin, the rebel, the thief, the mutant, the outcast, the delinquent, the devil, the sinner, the traveller, the gangster, the runner, the mask: if we did not recognize in them our least-fulfilled needs, we would not invent them over and over again, in every place, in every language, in every time. ~ Salman Rushdie

Taverns were not the safest place to discuss politics or religion. Everybody was armed or drunk, usually both, and proprietors sensibly discouraged heated discussions. Coffeehouses, on the other hand, encouraged political debate, which was precisely why King Charles II banned them in 1675 9 (he withdrew the ban in eleven days)... Intelligent people discussing interesting things in an intelligible manner. ~ Stewart Lee Allen

Graduate school is a place to hide for a couple of years. ~ Michael Eisner

I looked up its history, and, surprisingly, it has quite a history. You know how in Europe they make you study a lot of stuff about the old alchemists and all that kind of stuff, to give you an historical grounding.'

'Yes?'

Kemp laughed. 'You haven't got a witch around your place by any chance?'

'Eh!' The exclamation almost burned Marson's lips. He fought hard to hide the tremendousness of that shock.

Kemp laughed again. 'According to 'Die Geschichte der Zauberinnen' by the Austrian, Karl Gloeck, Hydrodendon Barelia is the modem name for the sinister witch's weed of antiquity. I'm not talking about the special witches of our Christian lore, with their childish attributes, but the old tribe of devil's creatures that came out of prehistory, regular full-blooded sea witches. It seems when each successive body gets old, they choose a young woman's body, attune themselves to it by living with the victim, and take possession any time after midnight of the first full moon period following the 21st of June. Witch's weed is supposed to make the entry easier. Gloeck says... why, what's the matter, sir?'

His impulse, his wild and terrible impulse, was to babble the whole story to Kemp. With a gigantic effort, he stopped himself; for Kemp, though he might talk easily of witches, was a scientist to the depths of his soul.

("The Witch") ~ A.E. Van Vogt