Lying Quotes - Page 15

• A professionally trained actress should be a better liar, wouldn't you think? But no. I am pathetically underachieved in that area. I can think of a great lie. I'm plenty imaginative. But before the words are even out of my mouth, there's a weird tickle of unease in my armpits, a horsefly of guilt lands on the back of my neck, and before I can stop myself, that gassy little bubble of truth belches out.

  Kristin Chenoweth

  Liars, Thinking, Land

  Kristin Chenoweth (2009). “A Little Bit Wicked: Life, Love, and Faith in Stages”, p.79, Simon and Schuster

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• There are always three sides to every memory…yours, theirs, and the truth, which lies somewhere in between the two

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Memories, Two, Sides

  Sherrilyn Kenyon (2010). “Seize The Night”, p.131, Hachette UK

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• Waking up begins with saying am and now. That which has awoken then lies for a while staring up at the ceiling and down into itself until it has recognized I, and therefrom deduced I am, I am now. Here comes next, and is at least negatively reassuring; because here, this morning, is where it has expected to find itself: what’s called at home.

  Christopher Isherwood

  Morning, Home, Ceilings

  Christopher Isherwood (2013). “A Single Man: A Novel”, p.5, Macmillan

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• For Drake is no longer in his hammock, children, nor is Arthur somewhere sleeping, and you may not lie idly expecting the second coming of anybody now, because the world is yours and it is up to you.

  Susan Cooper

  Children, Sleep, World

  Susan Cooper (1977). “Silver on the Tree”, Simon & Schuster

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• And still the brain continues to yearn, continues to burn, foolishly, with desire. My old man's brain is mocked by a body that still longs to stretch in the sun and form a beautiful shape in someone else's gaze, to lie under a blue sky and dream of helpless, selfless love, to behold itself, illuminated, in the golden light of another's eyes.

  Meg Rosoff

  Beautiful, Dream, Eye

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• Lady Madonna lying on the bed Listen to the music playing in your head.

  Paul McCartney

  Bed

  Song: Lady Madonna

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• She is happy where she lies With the dust upon her eyes.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Eye, Dust, Her Eyes

  Edna St Vincent, Edna St. Vincent Millay (2013). “The Edna St. Vincent Millay Collection”, p.185, eBookIt.com

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• An alcoholic will steal your wallet and lie to you. A drug addict will steal your wallet and then help you look for it.

  David Sheff

  Drug, Looks, Helping

  David Sheff (2008). “Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction”, p.265, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• All I do is lie, and that has made me immune to compliments.

  David Sedaris

  Compliment, Made, Immune

  David Sedaris (1998). “The Santaland Diaries ; And, Season's Greetings”, p.30, Dramatists Play Service Inc

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• How many beginnings before you see the lies in your excitement?

  Don DeLillo

  Excitement

  Don DeLillo (2010). “Point Omega”, p.55, Pan Macmillan

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• The temptation is to stay inside; to subside into the kind of recluse whom neighborhood children regard with derision and little awe; to let the hedges and weeds grow up, to allow the doors to rust shut, to lie on my bed in some gown-shaped garment and let my hair lengthens and spread out over the pillow and my fingernails to sprout into claws, while candle wax drips onto the carpet. But long ago I made a choice between classicism and romanticism. I prefer to be upright and contained—an urn in daylight.

  Margaret Atwood

  Weed, Children, Growing Up

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• The tiger lies low not from fear, but for aim. ~Wren

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Lows, Aim, Tigers

  Sherrilyn Kenyon (2016). “Chronicles of Nick”, p.622, St. Martin's Griffin

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• One of the great conditions of anger and hatred is, that you must tell and believe lies against the hated object, in order, as we said, to be consistent.

  William Makepeace Thackeray

  Believe, Order, Hatred

  William Makepeace Thackeray (1853). “Vanity Fair: A Novel Without a Hero”, p.141

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• What sort of truths are they that the majority usually supports? They are truths that are of such advanced age that they are beginning to break up. And if a truth is as old as that, it is also in a fair way to become a lie, gentlemen.

  Henrik Ibsen

  Support, Gentleman, Age

  Henrik Ibsen (2009). “An Enemy of the People: A Play in Five Acts”, p.150, The Floating Press

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• And fantasy it was, for we were not strong, only aggressive; we were not free, merely licensed; we were not compassionate, we were polite; not good, but well behaved. We courted death in order to call ourselves brave, and hid like thieves from life. We substituted good grammar for intellect; we switched habits to simulate maturity; we rearranged lies and called it truth, seeing in the new pattern of an old idea the Revelation and the Word.

  Toni Morrison

  Strong, Maturity, Order

  Toni Morrison (2014). “The Bluest Eye”, p.161, Random House

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• It's a whydunnit in q-sharp major and it has a message: never talk to the sort of girls that you wouldn't leave lying about in your drawing-room for the servants to pick up.

  Muriel Spark

  Girl, Drawing, Rooms

  Muriel Spark (2014). “The Driver's Seat”, p.35, New Directions Publishing

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• I am alone in the world, and yet not alone enough to make each hour holy. I am lowly in this world, and yet not lowly enough for me to be just a thing to you, dark and shrewd. I want my will and I want to go with my will as it moves towards action. And I want, in those silent, somehow faltering times, to be with someone who knows, or else alone. I want to reflect everything about you, and I never want to be too blind or too ancient to keep your profound wavering image with me. I want to unfold. I don't want to be folded anywhere, because there, where I'm folded, I am a lie.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Moving, Dark, Profound

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• A slow smile curved over my face, and I leaned down over him. "No," I said. "Wishes are lies. Tell me you're going to leave. Tell me you're not going to stay. Tell me that it's only for a while so I can enjoy today," I whispered in his ear, as if saying it louder would break me. "And when you go, don't think me cold when I don't cry. I can't cry anymore, Pierce. It hurts too much.

  Kim Harrison

  Hurt, Thinking, Wish

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• Lies are infinite in number, and the truth so small and singular.

  Barbara Kingsolver

  Numbers, Infinite

  Barbara Kingsolver (2009). “The Lacuna”, p.325, Faber & Faber

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• For there is no bond more lasting than that formed by the mutual confidences of that magic time when youth is slipping from the sheath of childhood and beginning to wonder what lies for it beyond those misty hills that bound the golden road.

  Lucy Maud Montgomery

  Childhood, Magic, Golden

  Lucy Maud Montgomery (2016). “The Complete Novels of Lucy Maud Montgomery - 20 Titles in One Volume: Including Anne of Green Gables Series, Emily Starr Trilogy, The Blue Castle, The Story Girl & Pat of Silver Bush Series: Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island, Anne of Ingleside, Anne's House of Dreams, Rainbow Valley, Emily of New Moon, The Golden Road, Magic for Marigold, A Tangled Web, Jane of Lantern Hill & many more”, p.2166, e-artnow

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• There is no glory in honesty if it is destructive. And no shame in dishonesty if its goal is to offer grace.

  M.J. Rose

  Life, Honesty, Goal

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• A woman’s beauty lies, not in any exaggeration of the specialized zones, nor in any general harmony that could be worked out by means of the sectio aurea or a similar aesthetic superstition; but in the arabesque of the spine. The curve by which the back modulates into the buttocks. It is here that grace sits and rides a woman’s body.

  John Updike

  Mean, Curves, Grace

  Laurie G. Kirszner, John Updike (1998). “A and P”, Heinle & Heinle Pub

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• Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form

  William Shakespeare

  Children, Grief, Bed

  'King John' (1591-8) act 3, sc. 4, l. 93

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• I just can't. I'm married. I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.

  Sara Gruen

  Bed, Married, Made

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• Death’s a funny thing. I used to think it was a big, sudden thing, like a huge owl that would swoop down out of the night and carry you off. I don’t anymore. I think it’s a slow thing. Like a thief who comes to your house day after day, taking a little thing here and a little thing there, and one day you walk round your house and there’s nothing there to keep you, nothing to make you want to stay. And then you lie down and shut up forever. Lots of little deaths until the last big one.

  Neil Gaiman

  Night, Thinking, Funny Things

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