The practice of deception is foolishness because the truth always eventually surfaces.

But I knew what it said. That I could be imperfect, but only so much. Human, but only within limits. And honest, to her or to myself, never.

A handful of truth is better than a mouthful of lies.

Es gibt immer einen Punkt dabei, wo man nicht mehr weiß, ob man lügt oder ob das, was man erfunden hat, wahrer ist als man selber.

There was a distinction between lying and telling half-truths, but it was a very narrow one.

The truth never hurts worse than finding out someone you care about lied to you.