Quotes About Truth

How honorable is knowledge, that the one who does not have it, says he does. How dishonorable is ignorance, that the one who has it says he does not.

Whoever warns you against sins and vices is like the one who gives you good tidings.

And which comes first? her unbearable mother is saying. What we see or how we see it?

We have to hope that the people who love us and who know us a little bit will in the end have seen us truly. In the end, not much else matters.

Well, truth's like the sun. Look right at it and that's your eyes ruined for life.

This isn't fiction, the man says. This is the Post Office.

How very disappointing truth is sometimes.

The power of the lie, Daniel said. Always seductive to the powerless.

Nothing comic isn't serious.

There's no point in making up a world, Elisabeth said, when there's already a real world, There's just the world, and there's the truth about the world. You mean there's the truth, and there's the made-up version of it that we get told about the world, Daniel said. No. The world exists. Stories are made up, Elisabeth said. But no less true for that, Daniel said.

Above the keyhole the door has a latch. It is pretending to be an authentic old latch. The door is pretending to be an authentic old door. Maybe everything there is isn't authentic any more. Maybe everything there is is a kind of pretending.

You can't expect to live in the world like the world's your private myth.

This story is true and happened once in the future long ago.

Beauty is the true way to change things for the better. To make things better. There should be a lot more beauty in all our lives. Beauty is truth, truth beauty. There is no such thing as fake beauty. Which is why beauty is so powerful. Beauty assuages.

I'm tired of lying governments. I'm tired of people not caring whether they're being lied to any more. I'm tired of being made to feel this fearful. I

We have to hope that the people who love us and who know us a little bit will in the end have seen us truly. In the end, not much else matters. It is the only responsibility memory has. But, of course, memory and responsibility are strangers. They're foreign to each other. Memory always goes its own way quote regardless.

They're called rollerblades, she said. Rollerblades, Daniel said. Right. Well? And you can't rollerblade on grass, she said. Can't you? Daniel said. How very disappointing truth is sometimes. Can't we try? There'd be no point, she said. Can't we try anyway? he said. We might disprove the general consensus. Okay, Elisabeth said.

Deeply exciting, though, cliché was, as a concept. It was truth misted by overexpression, wasn't it, like a structure seen in a fog, something waiting to be re-felt, re-seen. Something dainty fumbled at through thick gloves. Cliché was true, obviously, which was why it had become cliché in the first place; so true that cliché actually protected you from its own truth by being what it was, nothing but cliché.

She knew it was supposed to happen like that, that although these photographs were a signal to the eyes about something really happening, the more she looked at them the less she felt or thought. The more pictures she saw, the less they meant something that had happened to real people and the more it became possible to pile real people up like that again anywhere you wanted and have your picture taken standing smiling behind them.

human beings can't be legends, being mortal

Do things just go away? her mother says. Do things that happened not exist, or stop existing, just because we can't see them happening in front of us? They do when they're over, George says. And what about the things we watch happening right in front of us and still can't really see? her mother says.

Na, mondja. Figyelj. Nem szabad többé elhinned minden hazugságot arról, hogy a világ meg van mérgezve. És a bombákat. És a vegyszereket. Mert ebbÅ'l semmi nem igaz. Nem?, kérdi Arthur. Nem, mondja Sophia. Mert akik mindenfélét csinálnak a világban, miért ne a legjobbat akarnák a világnak?

We have to hope that the people who love us and who know us a little bit will in the end have seen us truly. In the end, not much else matters. It is the only responsibility memory has. But, of course, memory and responsibility are strangers. They're foreign to each other. Memory always goes its own way quite regardless.

The surface of things is a lie, and everybody who sees the hoarding for what they are knows it.