Best 431 quotes in «lie quotes» category

Abused children as they grow to believe that they are damaged beyond repair. A LIE that is believed and stays buried within for a very long time!

Actively repeating a lie or denial does not make it true.

A beautiful lie cannot rival an ugly truth in a virtue pageant.

A false fact is what it is: a lie.

A higher truth cannot be overthrown by a lower lie.

Alex, please.” He balls his fists. “Stop saying my name. You don’t know me anymore.” “I do know you.” I’m still crying, swallowing back spasms in my throat, struggling to breathe. This is a nightmare and I will wake up. This is a monster-story, and he has come back to me a terror-creation, patched together, broken and hateful, and I will wake up and he will be here, and whole, and mine again. I find his hands, lace my fingers through his even as he tries to pull away. “It’s me, Alex. Lena. Your Lena. Remember? Remember 37 Brooks, and the blanket we used to keep in the backyard—” “Don’t,” he says. His voice breaks on the word. “And I always beat you in Scrabble,” I say. I have to keep talking, and keep him here, and make him remember. “Because you always let me win. And remember how we had a picnic one time, and the only thing we could find from the store was canned spaghetti and some green beans? And you said to mix them—” “Don’t.” “And we did, and it wasn’t bad. We ate the whole stupid can, we were so hungry. And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.” I’m gasping, feeling as though I am about to drown; I’m reaching for him blindly, grabbing at his collar. “Stop.” He grabs my shoulders. His face is an inch from mine but unrecognizable: a gross, contorted mask. “Just stop. No more. It’s done, okay? That’s all done now.” “Alex, please—” “Stop!” His voice rings out sharply, hard as a slap. He releases me and I stumble backward. “Alex is dead, do you hear me? All of that—what we felt, what it meant—that’s done now, okay? Buried. Blown away.” “Alex!” He has started to turn away; now he whirls around. The moon lights him stark white and furious, a camera image, two-dimensional, gripped by the flash. “I don’t love you, Lena. Do you hear me? I never loved you.” The air goes. Everything goes. “I don’t believe you.” I’m crying so hard, I can hardly speak. He takes one step toward me. And now I don’t recognize him at all. He has transformed entirely, turned into a stranger. “It was a lie. Okay? It was all a lie. Craziness, like they always said. Just forget about it. Forget it ever happened.” “Please.” I don’t know how I stay on my feet, why I don’t shatter into dust right there, why my heart keeps beating when I want it so badly to stop. “Please don’t do this, Alex.” “Stop saying my name.

Ale zdání vždycky klame. Nejvíc.

Almost everything a person thinks is a lie, and an assault against the natural soul.

Always be truthful and you will have fewer visits from regret, guilt or fear.

Adding more bull to bull yields bigger bull.

A lie for a good reason is better than a truth that destroys.

A lie is the most sacred private property on Earth. Governments claim it is not theirs, and that their critics are the rightful owners.

A lie has many colours, while white is the only faithful colour of truth.

A lie is always more interesting, creative, focused, and inspiring than the truth.

A lie is more profitable than the truth. That is why we have elections.

All at once it seemed like too much of a betrayal to continue to pretend that his brother was delirious, hallucinating, not in his right mind. Lying when he was telling the truth. Maybe Kenzie was right-maybe secrets were more the problem than the solution. Maybe Kenzie was the only clearheaded person in that room. And yet-he couldn't supress a twinge of fear that if he told the truth, he'd never see Emma again. Never hear her music again. Their musical connection was the closest he'd ever come to slacking his thirst for a human touch.

All days from the week are typical, that's all… nothing less, nothing more.

All night I see that abandonment is me, that the sole sobbing voice is me. We can search with lanterns, cross the shadow's lie. We can feel the heart thud in the thigh and water subside in the archaic site of the heart. All night I ask you why. All night you tell me no.

All women are lifelong members of the Secret Service...So, if you must lie, better make sure you cover your tracks because there is no such thing as a 'dumb blonde'...

An author never lies. We do, however tend to speak in a fictional prose.

A lie distorts the image of reality. It is a delusion of the human mind which can disrupt an individual's sense of what is morally right or wrong.

A lie is the only truth about a liar.

A lie told in the service of truth is virtue.

A lie, when believed, became the truth.

And now that I have been scammed once, I felt like it could not happen to me again.

And that’s the problem. When you’re alive, people can hurt you. It’s easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It’s easier to lock everybody out. But it’s a lie.

Anger is a deception. You engage it thinking you'll feel better but ultimately it drills you deeper in the hurt.

Anger is what makes our struggle visible, and our struggle is what exposes the hypocrisy of a nation that fashions itself a moral leader. To rise against the narrative and expose the lie gives opportunity to those whose identity depends on the lie to question and, hopefully, change.

An ounce of truth is more concrete than a pound of lies.

And came to her a realization that the largest humiliation for the person was a lie. And the viler the one to whom you lie, the greater is the humiliation.

A make believe life doesn't win friends and influence people. It bores the crap out of those living the dream.

Anxiety always originates from a lie. All lies, whether self generated or accepted from another person, will resonate as a pendulum swinging to and fro as a reminder of an inconsistency with truth and impeccability. The further the lie is carried, the more the intensity of anxiety builds. The feeling may begin as unease, building to angst, translating to anxiety, panic, and even dread. Ultimately, anxiety creates stagnancy. What's the solution? Speak the truth even if it scares you. Be authentic.

Apply the lie detector to everything. You will be amazed at how many lies you will discover. Beware tough, you may discover that you are a lie.

Are you okay, man?" "Yeah, I'm good." It's a lie. I wonder if I will ever be good again.

As a lie can be buried, the truth will always bloom.

As a clinical psychologist, I am regularly confronted with the brutal truth that we are all lie.

Atheists are the most honest of the human race. These people are unable to live a double life; they are unable to lie to themselves. Of course it's an evolutionary handicap, and if that handicap was widespread, our species would run the risk of extinction

An ounce of truth weighs more than a pound of lies.

A writer paradoxically seeks the truth and tells lies every step of the way. It's a lie if you make something up. But you make it up in the name of the truth, and then you give your heart to expressing it clearly.

Bad governments always lie because telling the truth requires honour and courage!

Bake a lie into proven facts and you will be surprised at how many fall for it.

A truth told once is no match for a lie oft repeated.

Be transparent, but use wisdom. Everybody can’t handle the raw and uncut version of who you were and even who you presently are.

Better to be a catalyst for change than a martyr for lies.

Blatantly lie to me and we will have a problem.

A single lie is the father of all lies

Because madness is a lie too. Like night. Like death.

Because you are already sure everything is a lie. My only defence is the absolute truth. My only power over you is the truth. And if I keep telling it, eventually you'll believe.

Belief in God meant belief in the old tribal idol called Jehovah; and I would not pretend I did not know whether it existed or not.

Both girls jumped at a hard blow on the door. Eve hastily unlocked the door and stepped back as it flew open, and Shane charged through. “How—?’” He was breathing hard, and he had a crowbar in his hand. He’d have broken through the locks, Claire realized, if he’d had to. She came toward him slowly, trying to figure out what he was feeling, and he dropped the crowbar and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up off the ground. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and the warm, fast pump of his breath on her skin made her shiver in raw delight. “Oh Christ, Claire. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’” “Not your fault,’” Eve said. She held out the field hockey stick. “Look! I hit him. Um, twice.’” “Good.’” Shane kissed Claire’s cheek and let her slide back down to the floor, but he kept hold of her arms. His eyes, bright under the bruises and swelling, surveyed her carefully. “He didn’t hurt you? Either of you?’” “I hit him!’” Eve repeated brightly, and brandished the stick again for emphasis