“I am too much in love with my lies and hypocrisies not to confess them fervently.”

“I am much relieved as I confess all my sins to conscience.”

“Does it scare you? That you might love someone that much someday, just to lose them too?" "Yes," I confess, "I've been scared since the first time I saw you.”

“I am too young and I've loved you too much.”

“When you love someone, you can't lie to them. It hurts to much. It's a deception that goes too deep.”

“Yes,' Montriveau went on in an unsteady voice, 'this Catholic faith to which you wish to convert me is a lie that men make for themselves; hope is a lie at the expense of the future; pride, a lie between us and our fellows; and pity, and prudence, and terror are cunning lies. And now my happiness is to be one more lying delusion; I am expected to delude myself, to be willing to give gold coin for silver to the end. If you can so easily dispense with my visits; if you confess me neither as your friend nor your love, you do not care for me! And I, poor fool that I am, tell myself this, and know it, and love you!”