Lying Quotes - Page 438

Lies, lies are the place where darkness grows.

All of my hopes and dreams lie with young women.

I detest flying anywhere. Left to my own devices, I'd never leave my keyboard.

Not a lot of contemporary fiction is written about brothers and sisters. Salinger's Franny and Zooey was an inspiration for me. In Franny and Zooey, the sister gets in trouble and the brother comes to help her out. But I wanted to make sure that in my novel the sister had more to do than lie around on a sofa muttering, which is what Franny does for two-thirds of Salinger's novel.

You called me on the phone, saying you were alone, But that's a lie because I heard your moms breathing on the phone. And if you really like me, let your moms know She should mind her business...before I let go.

It was what you did, Wolgast understood; you started to tell a story about who you were, and soon enough the lies were all you had and you became that person.

You think people hate a fat person? Try a fat person who's trying to get thin.

I have three storage units, and that's no lie. Three storage units. All books.

[Paul Scheer] was kind of pretending to not be as sick as he was. And then we almost pulled into this spa when I finally called it and said, "I'm very ill. We need to go home." And he said, "I am, too." He said that he wasn't going to do his treatments, he was going to - by the way, these are great problems to have - he was going to lie in the men's relaxation room in between throwing up. I was like, "This is insane. We're sick, and we need to just acknowledge it. And it sucks that it happened on my birthday, but let's get back into bed."

Here Lies Julius Schwartz. He met his last deadline.

If she were here I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off her. I would hold her so close she'd beg me to let her breathe. I'd kiss her so hard she'd plead for mercy. I'd unfasten her clothing and lie with her onthat hard bed, and what was between us would be as far above the ordinary congress between man and woman as the stars are above their pale reflections in the lake below.

Thoughts fly and words go on foot. Therein lies all the drama of a writer.

If people only knew what lies at the heart of my novels! What a tumult of desires these carefully written pages conceal! I sometimes have a loathing for the furious cravings that give me no peace except when I am working.

I’d always heard that when you truly love someone, you’re happy for them as long they’re happy. But that’s a lie. That’s higher-road bullshit. If you love someone so much, why the hell would you be happy to see them with anyone else? I didn’t want the easy kind of love. I wanted the crazy love, the kind of love that created and destroyed all at the same time.

Deep within each one of us lies a garden.

Isabelle is like a warrior going into battle and she needs… you said yes? You'd really choose an inexperienced squire?" she asked, her voice incredulous. He laughed. "I would." She smiled. "You're lying to me to make me feel better. It's all right. It's working. Now tell me another lie.

The truth of the matter is, beauty is a specific thing, rare and fleeting. Some of us have it in our teens, 20s and 30s and then lose it; most of us have it not at all. And that's perfectly okay. But lying to yourself that you have it when you don't seems to me simple-minded at best and psychotic at worst.

I throw him two bones: a smile and a nod. Both lies.

I'm just taking it one day at a time. Actually, that's a total lie. I always think about what's in front of me.

She knows that whispers can be useful. Sometimes they contain real information. But usually they're fairy tales and lies. This is the worst kind of whisper, the kind that draws you in, gives you hope.

Writing stories is the habit of lying put to good use.

If life is a performance, and I am not an actor, am I supposed to lie down and die?

I don't meditate in any formal way, but I often lie in bed or find myself in nature and enter into that state of quiet where I get images, feelings, or melodies.

The bicameral mind with its controlling gods was evolved as a final stage of the evolution of language. And in this development lies the origin of civilization.

I know this much: that there is objective time, but also subjective time, the kind you wear on the inside of your wrist, next to where the pulse lies. And this personal time, which is the true time, is measured in your relationship to memory.