“I think I've had a shit, Shaya." The poor woman sounded distressed and mortified. "Have I, Grace? Don't lie to me." "No, you haven't.""I have, you're lying. Is she lying, Lydia?""No," Lydia quickly said, "you haven't, I promise.”

“I'm sorry," she said humbly. "I haven't wanted to lie to you.""I should hope so. You're the worst liar I've ever met." He thought about it for a moment, then added, "--or the best. Now I'm all confused.”

“My name is Lev," said Lev."My name is Lydia," said the woman. And they shook hands, Lev's hand holding the scrunched-up kerchief and Lydia's hand rough with salt and smelling of egg, and then Lev asked, "What are you planning to do in En gland?" and Lydia said, "I have some interviews in London for jobs as a translator.""That sounds promising.""I hope so. I was a teacher of English at School 237 in Yarbl, so my language is very colloquial."Lev looked at Lydia. It wasn't difficult to imagine her standing in front of a class and writing words on a blackboard. He said, "I wonder why you're leaving our country when you had a good job at School 237 in Yarbl?""Well," said Lydia, "I became very tired of the view from my window. Every day, summer and winter, I looked out at the schoolyard and the high fence and the apartment block beyond, and I began to imagine I would die seeing these things, and I didn't want this. I expect you understand what I mean?”

“Lydia: What the devil do you mean by creeping up on me? You're suppose to be in a brothel.Vere: I lied. I can't believe you fell for the old going-to-a-brothel ruse. You didn't even look out the window to make sure I'd gone away.”

“Groucho: You know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world?Woman: Really?Groucho: No, but I don't mind lying if it gets me somewhere.”

“If you could do such a thing as that-and I don't mean lying with a woman, I mean doing it and lying to me about it-then everything I've done and everything I've been-my whole life-has been a lie. And I am not prepared to admit such a thing.”