Quotes About Truth

But no matter what you call it, it seems that every couple has two stories- the edited one to be shared from the couch and the unabridged version, best left alone.

But I also knew in my heart that I wouldn't cover for my son if he committed a terrible crime. Any crime. I wouldn't lie for him. I wouldn't obstruct justice for him. I would stand by him, but I would also want him to confess and truly repent and bear responsibility for his actions. I would want him to earn and deserve his forgiveness.

I guess she's been like this since her arrival here, maybe even our whole lives, but sometimes when you know someone well, you don't see them as they really are. So I honestly think I've managed to ignore this fundamental part of her personality, perhaps not wanting to see my closest friend in this light.

That nothing can be real when marred with so many lies.

We have no relationship without honesty. - by Claude

hesitated, thinking of all the ways I could change the subject, then made a spur-of-the-moment decision that I was finished with small talk and surface conversation and diversions and lies of any kind, no matter how small. At least for right now, as I sat at my parents' dining room table, with a kind man who had once loved me, and who still prayed to God before supper.

So much of how we see the world is the matter of interpretation. A matter of wishing and hoping rather than really deep-down believing.

thinking that so much of how we see the world is a matter of interpretation. A matter of wishing and wanting and hoping rather than really deep-down believing.

a bit of a dirty fighter, quick with cutting words that he later regrets and doesn't really mean. Then again, I wonder if there isn't always a grain of truth in them, somewhere

Did you always know you wanted to practice law? She considers this - considers the truth - that she had no real passion for the law, but simply wanted to achieve for the sake of achievement...But of course, she did not divulge any of this, and instead says, No, not really.

She says that everyone creates a version of her life that she wishes were true and tries to believe.

right—secrets and lies are really the same thing

Every couple has two stories - the edited one to be shared from the couch and the unabridged version best left alone.

Five strange fingers from fate's hand, Each plays its part at fate's command. The fiery blaze the answer keeps. And till its time each secret sleeps. When pain is truth and truth is pain, The painted shadows live again. Five leave, but five do not return. Vain hope and pride in terror burn.

Children are not good at living a lie. Children have too much energy, are too impatient, and ask too many questions.

Death, the Sun, the Lovers. Lots of major arcana. Your future's controlled by others. There's powerful people playing with it. You're gonna have to fight to get it back...this is the country of truth. There the Devil, the Star, the Tower. In this country of truth, where your spirit lives, your life still isn't your own. Other stronger spirits, or maybe gods--they've got the say in what happens to you.

When I was four I thought everything in TV was just TV, then I was five and Ma unlied about lots of it being pictures of real and Outside being totally real. Now I'm in Outside but it turns out lots of it isn't real at all.

Are stories true? ... They're magic, they're not about real people walking around today. So they're fake? No, no. Stories are a different kind of true.

Adults could be barefaced liars too, of course, and about no subject so much as their own bodies. In Lib's experience, those who wouldn't cheat a shopkeeper by a farthing would lie about how much brandy they drank or whose room they'd entered and what they'd done there. Girls bursting out of their stays denied their condition till the pangs gripped them. Husbands swore blind that their wives' smashed faces were none of their doing. Everybody was a repository of secrets.

So they're fake? No, no. Stories are a different kind of true.

Not beautiful, not brilliant, no longer young.

And it did me no good to recall particular conversations (if indeed these were particular conversations I was remembering so vividly, rather than inventions of my uneasy brain). Remembering clarified nothing.

No sabía que las cosas pudieran estar vivas a medias. Aunque tampoco sabía que los retratos tuvieran vida dentro.

So they're fake? No, no. Stories are a different kind of true. I look back one more time. It's like a crater, a hole where something happened. Then we go out the door.