“A writer who says that there are no truths, or that all truth is ‘merely relative,’ is asking you not to believe him. So don’t.”
“Do you believe in the value of truth, my dear, or don’t you?”“Of course I believe in the truth,” said Rhoda, staring.“Yes, you say that, but perhaps you haven’t thought about it. The truth hurts sometimes – and destroys one’s illusions.”“I’d rather have it all the same.” said Rhoda. “So would I. But I don’t know that we’re wise.”
“You know what truth is? [...] It's some crazy thing my neighbor believes. If I want to make friends with him, I ask him what he believes. He tells me, and I say, "Yeah, yeah - ain't it the truth?”
“Why did adults have to be so thick? They always say “tell the truth,” and when you do, they don’t believe you. What’s the point?”
“Truth is, of course, relative. But then, so is relative.”
“So don’t ask no questions. Too much truth can be bad.”