Quotes About Truth

The person who truly lives has precious few moments of safety, learns to thrive in any kind of storm. It's the truth you can stare down stone-cold that makes you what you are. Weak or strong. Live or die. Prove yourself. How much truth can you take

I was not supposed to reveal her," he lied swiftly, meeting Duncan's gaze with a silent warning. He was momentarily appalled at how easily the lie had sprung to his lips. See, , he berated himself, break one rule and they all go to hell.

Lack of visible cloven hoof, tail, or horns does not disguise the devil at my door.

In the year since the day I got on a plane to fly to Dublin, determined to find my sister's killer and bring him to justice, I've learned that you can discover just as much from what people don't say to you, as what they do. It's not enough to listen to their words. You have to mine their silences for buried ore. It's often only in the lies we refuse to speak that any truth can be heard at all.

He'd sternly reminded himself of rule number four—no physical intimacy. But it had done him no good. Rule number four seemed to have become quite friendly with rule number one—never break an oath—and was cozying up nicely to rule number two—do not lie. What a crowd they were becoming, his broken rules.

Drop your blinders and raise the sewer to eye level; admit you're swimming in shit. If you don't acknowledge the turd hurtling down the drain toward you, you can't dodge it. You have to face every challenge together.

I want to keep her from ever changing into something so terrible as I've become. I want to shelter her from the hard truth that life takes from you, whittles away at your hope and scrapes the flesh from your bone and leaves you so changed you can't even recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.

People are capable of varying degrees of truth. The majority spend their entire lives fabricating an elaborate skein of lies, immersing themselves in the faith of bad faith, doing whatever it takes to feel safe. The person who truly lives has precious few moments of safety, learns to thrive in any kind of storm. It's the truth you can stare down stone-cold that makes you what you are. Weak or strong. Live or Die.

Turned out I was wrong. It wasn't the dark I should have been afraid of, at all." —Mac's journal

He'd told me once that fear was more than a wasted emotion, it was the ultimate set of blinders; that if I couldn't face the truth of my reality, I could never control it, and would be subject to the wishes of anyone whose will was stronger than mine. He knew too well, from battling his own inner monster, what I've come to fathom only here and now. The most critical, defining battles we wage in life, we wage alone. Against ourselves. It

Drop your blinders and raise the sewer to eye level; admit you're swimming in shit. If you don't acknowledge the turd hurtling down the drain toward you, you can't dodge it. I've come to get out of the toilet bowl and become the commode that flushes the shit.

Did we call the things of our heart our own, whether they were or not?

Fact: you can never know another person completely. Fact: you are born alone and die alone. Fact: there is no such thing as safety. Only vigilance, determination to survive, and a willingness to be ruthless about it. Fact: love is not perfect. Fact:

The most confused we ever get is when we're trying to convince our heads of something our heart knows is a lie.

Words can be twisted into any shape. Promises can be made to lull the heart and seduce the soul. In the final analysis, words mean nothing. They are labels we give things in an effort to wrap our puny little brains around their underlying natures, when ninety-nine percent of the time the totality of the reality is an entirely different beast. The wisest man is the silent one. Examine his actions. Judge him by them.

Barrons laughed again. "And there, my dear Fio, you make one of Womankind's greatest mistakes: Falling in love with a man's potential. We so rarely share the same view of it, and even more rarely care to achieve it. Stop pining for the man you think I could be -- and take a good, long, hard look at the one I am.

I couldn't tell the difference between the two of you anymore!" he roared. I smashed my fist into his face. Lies roll off us. It's the truths we work hardest to silence. Then you weren't looking hard enough! I'm the one with boobs!" I know you're the one with boobs!They're in my fucking face every fucking time I turn around!

It's not enough to listen to their words. You have to mine their silences for buried ore. It's often only in the lies that we refuse to speak that truth can be heard at all.

have access to all our dirty linen.

how the representation of a thing could seem more alluring than the thing itself.

once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how unlikely, must be the truth.

Wasn't that the way life always worked? To learn a hard truth too late- was that better than never learnig it at all? Possible not. At least, if one never discovered what one wanted, one could never miss not having it.

You small mortals don't realize the power of your stories.

But if it turns out that she really can adjust them from without? Reshuffle the deck of his past, leave a few cards out, sub in several from a sunnier suit, where was the harm in that? Harm had to be the opposite, didn't it? Letting the earliest truth metastasize into something that might kill you? The gangrenous spread of one day throughout the life span of a body— wasn't that something worth stopping?