If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.
I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you.
The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.
Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.
I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.
It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.
There are three types of lies -- lies, damn lies, and statistics.
If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is better to offer no excuse than a bad one.
The naked truth is always better than the best-dressed lie.
We met less than a week ago and in that time I've done nothing but lie and cheat and betray you. I know. But if you give me a chance...all I want is to protect you. To be near you. For as long as I'm able.
I told him I was going to betray you, and betray Lyra, and he believed me because I was corrupt and full of wickedness; he looked so deep I felt sure he'd see the truth. But I lied too well. I was lying with every nerve and fiber and everything I'd ever done...I wanted him to find no good in me, and he didn't. There is none.
How 'bout a shot of truth in that denial cocktail.
Don’t spoil me with your lies, love me with your truth.
To find out if she really loved me, I hooked her up to a lie detector. And just as I suspected, my machine was broken.
...lies can sound awfully pretty when a girl is in love with the person telling them.
Oh, don't cry, I'm so sorry I cheated so much, but that's the way things are.
Never try to do anything that is outside of who you are. A forced smile is a sign of what feels wrong in your heart, so recognize it when it happens. Living a lie will reduce you to one.
We wait and think and doubt and hate. How does it make you feel? The overwhelming feeling is rage. We hate ourself for being unable to be other than what we are. Unable to be better. We feel rage. The feelings must be followed. It doesn't matter whether you're an ideologue or a sensualist, you follow the stimuli thinking that they're your signposts to the promised land. But they are nothing of the kind. What they are is rocks to navigate the past, each on your brush against, ripping you a little more open and they are always more on the horizon. But you can't face up to the that, so you force yourself to believe the bullshit of those you instinctively know are liars and you repeat those lies to yourself and to others, hoping that by repeating them often and fervently enough you'll attain the godlike status we accord those who tell the lies most frequently and most passionately. But you never do, and even if you could, you wouldn't value it, you'd realise that nobody believes in heroes any more. We know that they only want to sell us something we don't really want and keep from us what we really do need. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe we're getting in touch with our condition at last. It's horrible how we always die alone, but no worse than living alone.