The trouble with lies was that once started, the fiction had to be continued, and it was hard always to be remembering details that you had made up upon the spur of the moment.
Truth is shorter than fiction.
Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction? Fiction, after all, has to make sense.
The great majority of us are required to live a life of constant, systematic duplicity. Your health is bound to be affected if, day after day, you say the opposite of what you feel, if you grovel before what you dislike and rejoice at what bring you nothing but misfortune. Our nervous system isn't just a fiction, it's part of our physical body, and our soul exists in space and is inside us, like teeth in our mouth. It can't be forever violated with impunity.
Seriously, a thirty-something woman shouldn't be daydreaming about a fictional character in a two-hundred-year-old world to the point where it interfered with her very real and much more important life and relationships. Of course she shouldn't.
The trouble with fiction," said John Rivers, "is that it makes too much sense. Reality never makes sense.
Income tax returns are the most imaginative fiction being written today.
In the absences of a decent time machine, fiction remains the most sturdy vehicle for visiting other eras.
Truth is more of a stranger than fiction.