Eve Golden Quotes

The Roseicrucians were everywhere, aided by the fact that they didn't exist.

I was born February 20, 1937 in Munchen as the first child of Sebastian and Helene Huber.

Veiling truth in mystery.

A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know.

I want to keep people guessing.

The myth of Kevin Mitnick is much more interesting than the reality of Kevin Mitnick. If they told the reality, no one would care.

Autobiography is a genre notorious for falsehood.

Combine two words, Myth and History. What do you get? Mystery.

I like to keep people guessing.

Legend: A lie that has attained the dignity of age.

Santa was a fake.

Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort.

People love a good story, even if it's a story that has very little truth to it.

To get me in to the Army underage, my mother signed me in saying that my birth certificate was lost in a fire in Nashville, so I got in underage. I was 16. She did because I begged her to do it.

The vampire was real. It was only that his true story had never been told.

Dont you know... I'm the boggyman."-St. Dane

I don't want people to know what is true all the time and that's what keeps the mystery.

People seek escape in myth by any means at their disposal, including drugs, alcohol, meditation, and lies.

Myths are fun, as long as you don't confuse them with the truth.

Salome had but seven veils; the artist has a thousand.

The best secrets are the most twisted

I know little of women. But I've heard dread tales.

Did you know that Mozart had no arms and no legs? I've seen statues of him on people's pianos.

Just so you know, when they say "once upon a time"....they're lying. It's not once upon a time. Its not even twice upon a time. It's hundreds of times, over and over, every time someone opens up the pages of this dusty old book.

I really cannot understand the point of what you're saying. Really,' said Clotilde, looking at her. 'What a very extraordinary person you are. What sort of a woman are you? Why are you talking like this? Who are you?' Miss Marple pulled down the mass of pink wool that encircled her head, a pink wool scarf of the same kind that she had once worn in the West Indies. 'One of my names,' she said, 'is Nemesis.' 'Nemesis? And what does that mean?' 'I think you know,' said Miss Marple. 'You are a very well educated woman. Nemesis is long delayed sometimes, but it comes in the end.