Quotes About Truth

The purpose of Art,' his mother, Sylvie, said – instructed even – 'is to convey the truth of a thing, not to be the truth itself.

Lying came easily to Niven, he thought of it as a means of protecting the truth.

who is to say which of these is real and which a fiction? In the end, it is my belief, words are the only things that can construct a world that makes sense.

But then, what constituted real? Wasn't everything, even this life itself, just a game of deception?

Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. JOHN 8:32

Don't let your imagination run away with you..." But why would you not when the reality was so awful?

trivial. But consider a list of items that differentiate females from males. There are none that always and without exception are true of only one gender. —Kessler and McKenna, Gender: An

Perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one's life.

I have said it before, but I don't think I have ever came so near meaning it.

Romances serve but to feed the imagination of the young; they add nothing to the sum of truth.

The years that are gone seem like dreams--if one might go on sleeping and dreaming--but to wake up and find--oh! well! Perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one's life.

When I'm writing about myself, I write out of a strong urge not to protect myself. When I feel ego or self justification or defensiveness creeping in or a wish to make myself look better than I was, I squelch it, if I can. It takes vigilance. Exposing myself is the only way to go, though. If I'd rather wear veils, I should write fiction.

That is surely the truth, at least for now. But perhaps you have not noticed: the truth is forever changing.

All words at all times, true or false, whispered or shouted, are clues to the workings of the human heart.

The world was beautiful. It surprised me, how beautiful it kept on insisting on being. In spite of all the lies, it was beautiful.

Everything, as you well know . . . cannot always be sweetness and light.

But in truth,' said Bull, 'we are going nowhere. That my friend, is the irony of our constant movement.

Things are not at all what they seem to be: oh no, not at all.

Everything, as you well know (having lived in this world long enough to have figured out a thing or two for yourself), cannot always be sweetness and light.

He would write and write. He would make wonderful things happen. Some of it would be true. All of it would be true. Most of it would be true.

As they walked back to the Kentucky Star, Rob thought about what Willie May had said about the tiger rising on up. It reminded him of what she had said about his sadness needing to rise up. And when he thought about the two things together, the tiger and his sadness, the truth circled over and above him and then came and landed lightly on his shoulder. He knew what he had to do.

Hyperbole is sometimes necessary to get at the truth. (It seems odd, doesn't it, that we have to lie to tell the truth better?)

Cerita seperti Cahaya

Listen, said Beverly. Let me tell you something. There is no Very Friendly Animal Center. That cat is long gone.