Quotes About Truth

The camera makes everyone a tourist in other people's reality, and eventually in one's own.

Sanity is a cozy lie.

Kim was, as always, utterly happy while running, in accord with nature, in harmony with the universe, in touch with the truth that was in him, full of love for all creatures even to the lowliest insect.

at the center of every fairy tale lay a truth that gave the story its power.

Newton wrote, "Amicus Plato amicus Aristoteles magis amica veritas." That is Latin for, "Plato is my friend, Aristotle is my friend, but my best friend is truth." When

In his scientific notebook, Newton wrote, "Amicus Plato amicus Aristoteles magis amica veritas." That is Latin for, "Plato is my friend, Aristotle is my friend, but my best friend is truth.

Does that mean you're prepared to deal with whatever turns up? People aren't sometimes. When they learn the real truth, they're all of a sudden content to live with a lie.

Don't part with your illusions; when they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live.

as Thomas Paine said, it has never been discovered how to make a man unknow his knowledge.

To photograph people is to obligate them in some way to face things they weren't expecting to.

Lying is a thriving vocation.

Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act?

Was everybody seeing this stuff and acting as though they weren't? Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act?

I don't want to go home," he said, as if he were telling the truth at last. I wondered in sudden detachment if I would at last find out what it was that he wanted from me.

I have been telling a lot of lies lately.

I didn't think I seemed like the sort of person who would mind." "What?" "I'd have fucked you anyway." . . . "I thought I'd lose you," he said at last. "Have you ever told me the truth?" "Look—" he paused. "People lie to me all day long. And I lie to them all day long. I've done it all my life.

He was convincing. Lying as cultural attribute. A hazard of the job. And I fell for it. It did not occur to me that he lies simply because he likes it. Lies to bosses. Lies on the stand. He boasts about it. Lies under oath. It's called testilying, he'd told me. Lies to women, especially to women. Starting with his mother and working his way through all of us. His wife. The doll collection. He couldn't be bothered to tell the truth.

Sometimes when I am not expecting it, when I let down my guard for a moment, allowing the thousands, the millions of little synapses in my head to work their will, conveying to me just what it is that I cannot bear to know, cannot bear to be known, I do remember.

Will you tell me?" I asked. "Tell you what?" He spoke flatly, as if he dreaded my question and already knew that he would answer it. "What you did." "Why do you think that knowing makes a difference?" "I've thought that all my life." "Well, you're wrong. Knowing don't mean shit.

I think it may have something to do with something I heard when I was a kid. Something I think I heard. Actually, I know, know for a fact, that I heard something.

Isn't it just as much the duty of the police to free the innocent, as to bring the guilty to justice?

All you can do, every day, is to learn the truth as best you can.

Sex is one of the few honest places inside us; it doesn't know how to lie, even if we change the story for the public.

The truth is, we don't have an easy language for emotional life. That's why we have writers.