Men want women to deceive them because it’ll prove their worst thoughts about women.
I’m writing a memoir. It’s a pack of lies.
How far does a pretence of feeling, maintained with absolute conviction, become authentic?
I want you to lie to me just as sweetly as you know how for the rest of my life.
Even then, if he is deceiving me I undoubtedly exist: let him deceive me all he can, he will never bring it about that I am nothing while I think I am something.
If there's one thing the Coventry has taught me, it's that lying always serves someone's purpose.
They lie, the men who tell us in a loud decisive tone.
In Sri Lanka a well-told lie is worth a thousand facts.
So, that’s what they wanted: lies. Beautiful lies. That’s what they needed. People were fools. It was going to be easy for me.
I realized what a ridiculous lie my whole life has been.