When a man really tells the truth, the first truth he tells is that he himself is a liar.

In the lie of truth lies the truth.

Lies are as important as truth, for without lies, the truth is worthless.

The lie, the perfect lie, about people we know, about the relations we have with them, about our motive for some action, formulated in totally different terms, the lie as to what we are, whom we love, what we feel with regard to people who love us … that lie is one of the few things in the world that can open windows for us on to what is new and unknown, that can awaken in us sleeping senses for the contemplation of universes that otherwise we should never have known.

One must at least know what the lies are.

Lies are lies, but all lies have their moment to be believed.

Our lies reveal as much about us as our truths

the lie is a condition of life.

Liars ... when they speak the truth they are not believed.

Forget that foreign word "ideals." We have that good old native word: "lies."

“A liar sees lies,” said Taleswapper. “Even when they aren’t there. Just as a hypocrite sees hypocrites whenever he runs across good people. Can’t stand to think that anyone might really be what you only pretend to be.”

Lies are often truth-shaped. They’re only containers you must turn inside out and shake till the truth tumbles out, wide eyed and confused, blinking in a light it never thought it would see.

Which is better, truth that is a lie or the lie that is truth?

No life is without its lies.