Quotes About Deception

It's odd, though, what makes you think about the truth. It's so rarely involved in the events of your life. I quit thinking about the truth for a time then. Its finer points seems impossible to find among the facts.

Meeting a girl, falling in love, marrying her, moving to Connecticut, buying a fucking house, starting a life with her and thinking you really knew anything about her--the last part was a complete fiction, which made all the rest a joke.

Anyone could be anyone else in most ways. Face the facts.

Life had begun to demand lies in order to be workable. And I was willing to tell one, or many more than one

Thus in the early summer of 1916, caution was not going to be thrown to the winds. Inferior forces from both sides were to be "lured" into "traps." The big gun might be fired, if it survived the torpedoes, but only when the odds were overwhelming.

I am home, you soggy-faced, entitled little prick, he barely stopped himself saying. You think it took northern sorcery to make me the way I am now? You think it took a war? Those things were tonic compared to what came before. Desperation and deception were waiting for me at the nursery door, took me by either hand as I walked out into my youth, have been my constant companions since.

No hagas juicios en tres dimensiones de lo que sólo puedes ver en la pantalla de un televisor.

Humans, short- lived and locked out of the gray places for life, do not do well with uncertainty. If they cannot have what might, what could, what should, and perhaps most awful of all what should have been, then they will dream it up instead, imagine it into being in whatever twisted or beautiful form suits, and then drive their fellows to their knees in chains by the thousand and million to pretend in chorus that it is so.

In the end, she realized, he had successfully invited them all to die simply by promising to do it with them. It was all they would ask of any commander.

Real monsters will always disappoint. The unseen threat, the rumour, is a far greater power.

It seems lies come very easily to your race. They lie to those they lead, to their mates and fellows no matter how close- drawn, even to themselves if it will make the world around them more bearable. It is hard to know what to believe in this place." Something

Lies are a precious currency—you have to be careful how and where you spend them.

Like so much of what goes on in the Gash, the overall aim is consumer tranquillity, not truth.

think, Raquel, you'd cut the laugh out of a toddler's throat with a blunt scalpel if you thought you could sell it for cab fare.

big reason this criminal enterprise has been so successful is that it would require the press and the voters to "agree" both parties are thoroughly corrupt. Honest reporting about this "Criminal Underground

People seem to be awfully gullible. They'll believe anything. ~in The NPR Intreviews, 1996, edited by Robert Siegel

Sometimes I have this feeling," Walter said, "that he operates on the philosophy that 'what Walter doesn't know won't hurt him.

Oh yes, we Londoners pretend to be all civilized and cultured, a beacon to the world, but it's all lies. We're rotten.

And that was all the part of it - the way you were obliged to live. You stifled a groan, you lied about your love, you deceived your legal wife, and all in the name of honour. That was the damned paradox of it - in order to behave well, you have to behave badly.

Rather, what happened to human illusions was that they crumbled, they withered away. It was a long and wearisome process, like a toothache reaching far into the soul. But you can pull out a tooth and it will be gone. Illusions, however, even when dead, continue to rot and stink within us. We cannot escape their taste and smell. We carry them around with us all the time.

But cockteasing is also a metaphor: she is someone who will manipulate your inner self while holding hers back from you.

What does the novel do? It tells beautiful, shapely lies which enclose hard, exact truths.

Though always frank, the novelist was never wholly sincere.

In truth, he was just another man, behaving as men did in books, and she was just another woman for believing otherwise.