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It's not like I pretend the past doesn't exist or that I'm not proud to be a part of it.

I'd drown in a sea of tears if I lived my life ruminating on the past. I would undoubtedly revise memories to be more joyful that they were, or ever have been.

I would feel so guilty about lying that I would try to stress myself out and work up a headache so I wouldn't have the guilt of not having a bit of the symptom.

Life would be so much harder if I had to lie about who I was.

I would lying if I said I would laugh in the face of death.

A lie would have no sense unless the truth were felt dangerous.

I think there's something inherently dishonest in trying to go back and mess with the past.

Once in a while, when I was younger, I'd lie, then tell the truth, and I'd feel better.

People who think about time travel stories sometimes think that going back in time would be fun because you would have all the information you needed to be much more astute than the people there, when the truth is of course you wouldn't.