Quotes about Privacy

There is a catalogue of private acts which you harbour inviolable and do not speak about. Hold it whole in your head and consider what everyone you know is doing right now. Small isolated things which your imagining rescues from the silence of privacy. A social encyclopedia of the present tense. Somewhere the personality slips its leash and disappears over the back fence leaving nothing ferocious to fight off the throng of details that rushes into your brain. You become a society, a public resource, a random dictionary of ephemera. And love is the force which allows you to speak in the midst of all this negative capability and which keeps you away from madness and inside a body with a future.

It seems to me, Golan, that the advance of civilization is nothing but an exercise in the limiting of privacy.

Privacy - like eating and breathing - is one of life's basic requirements.

God is an imaginary friend we really don't need to tell others about.

We're all torn between the desire for privacy and the fear of lonliness.  We need each other and we need to get away from each other.  We need proximity and distance, conversation and silence.  We almost always get more of each than we want at any one time.

Sometimes those things that attract the most attention to us are the things which afford us the greatest privacy

To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men-that is genius.

Private victories precede public victories. You can't invert that process any more than you can harvest a crop before you plant it.

The ''Inside-Out'' approach to personal and interpersonal effectiveness means to start first with self; even more fundamentally, to start with the most inside part of self -- with your paradigms, your character, and your motives. The inside-out approach says that private victories precede public victories, that making and keeping promises to ourselves recedes making and keeping promises to others. It says it is futile to put personality ahead of character, to try to improve relationships with others before improving ourselves.

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable: What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, That made them do it; they are wise and honourable, And will no doubts with reason answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor power of speech, To stir men's blood; I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii: Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through: See what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolved If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's Statua, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell, O! what a fall was there, my countrymen; Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O! now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity; these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. . . . . Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable: What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, That made them do it; they are wise and honourable, And will no doubts with reason answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend. . . . . For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action , nor utterance, nor power of speech, To stir men's blood; I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know.

Why, friends, you go to do you know not what: Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? Alas, you know not: I must tell you then: You have forgot the will I told you of. . . . . Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. . . . . Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Caesar! when comes such another?

If this life be not a real fight, in which something is eternally gained for the universe by success, it is no better than a game of private theatricals from which one may withdraw at will. But it feels like a real fight.

Belief is desecrated when given to unproved and unquestioned statements for the solace and private pleasure of the believer . . . It is wrong always, everywhere, and for every one, to believe anything upon insufficient evidence.

All writers - all people - have their stores of private and family legends which lie like a collection of half-forgotten, often violent toys on the floor of memory.

Privacy is essential to Liberty.

Money can't buy real friendship-friendship must be earned. Money can't buy a clear conscience-square dealing is the price tag. Money can't buy the glow of good health-right living is the secret. Money can't buy happiness-happiness is a mental condition and one may be as happy in a cottage as in a mansion. Money can't buy sunsets, songs of wild birds and the music of the wind in the trees-these are as free as the air we breath. Money can't buy inward peace-peace is the result of a constructive philosophy in life. Money can't buy a good character-good character is achieved through decent habits of private living and wholesome dealings in our open contacts with our fellow men.

No private citizen has any reason or need at any time to possess a gun. This applies to both honest citizens and criminals. We realize the Constitution guarantees the "right to keep and bear arms" but this should be changed.

A Hundred Years From Now Tell me friend, what will it matter, say a hundred years from now, if you owned a thousand acres or just one old broken plow; If you bought your suits in Paris and your shoes in Italy, Or your clothes were made in patches, like the bed quilts use to be? Whether you lived in a mansion with the finest broadlooms laid, If you had a private chauffeur, Butler, cook, a nurse and maid. Or you lived in a cottage with your health gone on the skids, out of work and out of money just your wife and seven kids. Sure, on earth there makes a difference what we've got and who we know, Whether we are poor and hungry, or we're rolling in the dough And if life down here was only all there was and that was it, then it sure would make a difference for all of us, I must admit. But there there's more to life than livin', more for those who will believe, more in store laid up in heaven if the Saviour we receive. Whether we are lost for ever or to Jesus here we bow, This is what will make a difference in a hundred years from now.

Our constitution is named a democracy, because it is in the hands not of the few but of the many. But our laws secure equal justice for all in their private disputes, and our public opinion welcomes and honors talent in every branch of achievement, not for any sectional reason but on grounds of excellence alone. And as we give free play to all in our public life, so we carry the same spirit into our daily relations with one another. . . . Open and friendly in our private intercourse, in our public acts we keep strictly within the control of law. We acknowledge the restraint of reverence; we are obedient to whomsoever is set in authority, and to the laws, more sepecially to those which offer protection to the oppressed and those unwritten ordinances whose transgression brings admitted shame. lb. II, Funeral Oration of Pericles, 37

Membership in the IBM family exacted certain standards of conduct. The reputation of the company was in the hands of everyone who worked for it, Watson insisted. Therefore, his employees were warned against doing anything, even in their private lives, which would be to the discredit of the organization.

Traditionally, sex has been a very private, secretive activity. Herein perhaps lies its powerful force for uniting people in a strong bond. As we make sex less secretive, we may rob it of its power to hold men and women together.

In the private sanctuary of one's own conscience lies that spirit, that determination to cast off the old person and to measure up to the stature of true potential.

The founders of this nation understood that private morality is the fount from whence sound public policy springs. Replying to Washington's first inaugural address, the Senate stated: "We feel, sir, the force and acknowledge the justness of the observation that the foundation of our national policy should be lain in private morality. If individuals be not influenced by moral principles it is in vain to look for public virtue."

Now listen a while, and I will tell, Of the Gelding of the Devil of Hell; And Dick the Baker of Mansfield Town, To Manchester Market he was bound, And under a Grove of Willows clear, This Baker rid on with a merry Cheer: Beneath the Willows there was a Hill, And there he met the Devil of Hell. Baker, quoth the Devil, tell me that, How came thy Horse so fair and fat? In troth, quoth the Baker, and by my fay, Because his Stones were cut away: For he that will have a Gelding free, Both fair and lusty he must be: Oh! quoth the Devil, and saist thou so, Thou shalt geld me before thou dost go. Go tie thy Horse unto a Tree, And with thy Knife come and geld me; The Baker had a Knife of Iron and Steel, With which he gelded the Devil of Hell, It was sharp pointed for the nonce, Fit for to cut any manner of Stones: The Baker being lighted from his Horse, Cut the Devil's Stones from his Arse. Oh! quoth the Devil, beshrow thy Heart, Thou dost not feel how I do smart; For gelding of me thou art not quit, For I mean to geld thee this same Day seven-night. The Baker hearing the Words he said, Within his Heart was sore afraid, He hied him to the next Market Town, To sell his Bread both white and brown. And when the Market was done that Day, The Baker went home another way, Unto his Wife he then did tell, How he had gelded the Devil of Hell: Nay, a wondrous Word I heard him say, He would geld me the next Market Day; Therefore Wife I stand in doubt, I'd rather, quoth she, thy Knaves Eyes were out. I'd rather thou should break thy Neck-bone Than for to lose any manner of Stone, For why, 'twill be a loathsome thing, When every Woman shall call thee Gelding Thus they continu'd both in Fear, Until the next Market Day drew near; Well, quoth the good Wife, well I wot, Go fetch me thy Doublet and thy Coat. Thy Hose, thy Shoon and Cap also, And I like a Man to the Market will go; Then up she got her all in hast, With all her Bread upon her Beast: And when she came to the Hill side, There she saw two Devils abide, A little Devil and another, Lay playing under the Hill side together. Oh! quoth the Devil, without any fain, Yonder comes the Baker again; Beest thou well Baker, or beest thou woe, I mean to geld thee before thou dost go: These were the Words the Woman did say, Good Sir, I was gelded but Yesterday; Oh! quoth the Devil, that I will see, And he pluckt her Cloaths above her Knee. And looking upwards from the Ground, There he spied a grievous Wound: Oh! (quoth the Devil) what might he be? For he was not cunning that gelded thee, For when he had cut away the Stones clean, He should have sowed up the Hole again; He called the little Devil to him anon, And bid him look to that same Man. Whilst he went into some private place, To fetch some Salve in a little space; The great Devil was gone but a little way, But upon her Belly there crept a Flea: The little Devil he soon espy'd that, He up with his Paw and gave her a pat: With that the Woman began to start, And out she thrust a most horrible Fart. Whoop! whoop! quoth the little Devil, come again I pray, For here's another hole broke, by my fay; The great Devil he came running in hast, Wherein his Heart was sore aghast: Fough, quoth the Devil, thou art not sound, Thou stinkest so sore above the Ground, Thy Life Days sure cannot be long, Thy Breath it fumes so wond'rous strong. The Hole is cut so near the Bone, There is no Salve can stick thereon, And therefore, Baker, I stand in doubt, That all thy Bowels will fall out; Therefore Baker, hie thee away, And in this place no longer stay.

There is far more danger in public than in private monopoly, for when Government goes into business it can always shift its losses to the taxpayers. Government never makes ends meet-and that is the first requisite of business.

As civil rulers, not having their duty to the people duly before them, may attempt to tyrannize, and as the military forces which must be occasionally raised to defend our country, might pervert their power to the injury of their fellow-citizens, the people are confirmed by the next article in their right to keep and bear their private arms.

Feminism's agenda is basic: it asks that women not be forced to "choose" between public justice and private happiness. It asks that women be free to define themselves--instead of having their identity defined for them, time and again, by their culture and their men.

Success always occurs in private, and failure in full view.

An aphorism is a personal observation inflated into a universal truth, a private posing as a general.