When fear and cold make a statue of you in your bed, don’t expect hard-boned and fleshless truth to come running to your aid. What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie.
No sentimentality, no romance, no false hope, no self-petting lies, merely that which is!
S’en est allée l’amante
Au village voisin malgré la pluie
Sans son amant s’en est allée l’amante
Pour danser avec un autre que lui
Les femmes mentent mentent
…but I’d learned a long time ago that the worse things are, the more people lie about them.
Let our information and social technologies raise awareness and not propaganda, build connections and not passive-aggression.
The cruelest lies are often told in silence.
You can’t separate desperate politicians from violence and trouble.
If you say that you have never lied at all,
then you give too much trust on anybody.
It is always healthy to be honest.