The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart. –Saint Jerome
Even though it sometimes means I do not get a joke, or a discreet tease, there are times I am thankful that the internet is faceless. My face, my eyes, they give away everything.
But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. — Hamlet
The Ghost was talking about Purgatory, there, not the hidden secrets of the bosom, but perhaps they are similar things, after all.
The hardest thing in the world is self-revelation, or voluntary vulnerability – spilling the secret you.
Soul Secret: now, you can spill all those passing thoughts or nagging questions that you are dying to express but don’t particularly want to get into a discussion (or a harangue) about, either because they’re not really serious issues with you…or because they are?
It’s a pretty cool idea, rather like Post Secret, but strictly about religion and faith. You might find you want to pop in there, some days–perhaps, for instance while your boss is driving you nuts–and give expression to the intersection of your love and your hate, your faith and all of your doubts.
I won’t tell!