A lie carries a weight that is exponentially higher than the truth. It’s weight will retard growth directly in proportion to the area lied.

You don’t have to feed the lie if you don’t want it to. If you make it credible it will become that, but only in your mind and only as disproportionate as you’ve decided it is. Truth has a way of being more persistent and if the two ever meet, truth will win.

Of course, the liar often imagines that he does no harm as long as his lies go undetected.

Sounding frank, honest, and sincere is, of course, a rhetorical strategy in itself, known from ancient literature as parrhesia. It’s often employed by liars.

She looks honestly upset, but then, I’ve learned that I can’t read her. The problem with a really excellent liar is that you have to just assume they’re always lying.

But he that sows lies in the end shall not lack of a harvest, and soon he may rest from toil indeed, while others reap and sow in his stead.