Quotes About Deception

You shouldn't have forged my handwriting," I said to Laura privately. "I couldn't forge Richard's. It's too different from ours. Yours was a lot easier." "Handwriting is a personal thing. It's like stealing.

I locate you on streets, in cities I've never seen, you walk against a background crowded with lifelike detail which crumbles and turns grey when I look too closely.

But if Crake wanted her to stay longer on any given night, do it again maybe, she'd make some excuse—jet lag, a headache, something plausible. Her inventions were seamless, she was the best poker-faced liar in the world, so there would be a kiss goodbye for stupid Crake, a smile, a wave, a closed door, and the next minute there she would be, with Jimmy.

I'll take care of it, Luke said. And because he said it instead of her, I knew he meant kill. That is what you have to do before you kill, I thought. You have to create an it, where none was before. You do that first, in your head, and then you make it real. So that's how they do it, I thought. I seemed never to have known that before.

Sometimes there would be couples, arm in arm—laughing, happy, amorous. Victims of an enormous fraud, and at the same time its perpetrators, or so I felt.

She must have been annoyed that it no longer worked. One morning he looked down and it was gone. I expect she'd pointed at it when he was asleep. She was keeping it in a cedar box with some other penises she'd stolen; she was feeding them on grains of wheat. That's the usual method of tending penises.

Is there no end to his diguises of benevolence?

He just tarted up his misdemeanours and made them look respectable

Then, when he was exhausted, she stole his penis.

Whatever our shapes and features, we were snares and enticements despite ourselves, we were the innocent and blameless causes that through our very nature could make men drunk with lust, so that they'd stagger and lurch and topple over the verge—The verge of what? we wondered. Was it like a cliff?—and go plunging down in flames, like snowballs made of burning sulphur hurled by the angry hand of God.

I hope she won't destroy him, thought Felix. But he's a con man, don't forget. A con man playing an actor. A double unreality.

Tonight I have a little surprise for you," he says. He laughs; it's more like a snigger. I notice that everything this evening is little. He wishes to diminish things, myself included.

Ah the Eternal Stupid Woman! How we enjoy hearing about her: as she listens to the con-artist yarns of the plausible snake, and ends up eating the free sample of the apple from the Tree of Knowledge: thus giving birth to Theology; or as she opens the tricky gift box containing all human evils, but is stupid enough to believe that Hope will be some kind of a solace.

Melanie told me that all the early pictures of me had been burnt up in a fire. Only an idiot would have believed this, so I did.

He was always so plausible. Many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seduct­resses, a few one-eyed monsters. Even I believed him, from time to time. I knew he was tricky and a liar, I just didn't think he would play his tricks and try out his lies on me.

Gök gürültüsü iyidir, etkileyicidir ama as?l iÅŸ gören ÅŸimÅŸektir Mark Twain

she's a ho in sheep's clothing, and it's about time she told the truth, the ho truth, and nothing but the truth.

Indeed, there seems to be some evidence not only that all love is based on illusion — but that love positively requires illusion in order to endure.

I was wise enough never to grow up, while fooling people into believing I had.

How wonderful to know someone who was bad and dishonorable and a cheat and a liar, when all the world was filled with people who would not lie to save their souls and who would rather starve than do a dishonorable deed!

Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were.

And when Ashley came riding along, so handsome, so different, I put that suit on him and made him wear it whether it fitted him or not... I kept on loving the pretty clothes - and not him at all.

He never really existed at all, except in my imagination, she thought wearily. I loved something that I made up...I made a pretty suit of clothes and fell in love with it. And when Ashley came riding along, so handsome, so different, I put that suit on him and made him wear it whether it fitted him or not. And I wouldn't see what he really was. I kept on loving the pretty clothes-and not him at all.

To hear them talk one would have thought they had no legs, natural functions or knowledge of the wicked world.