My son died for lies.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
As a child I was a great liar. Fortunately my mother liked my lies. I promised her marvelous things.
I was a good liar as a child.
On the death of his brothers, my dad lied about his age and joined the army in 1918. He was in the trenches long enough to be gassed and contract the early stages of tuberculosis from which he would eventually die just before my birth.
I've been living a lie all my life.
When I was young, an eccentric uncle decided to teach me how to lie. Not, he explained, because he wanted me to lie, but because he thought I should know how it's done so I would recognise when I was being lied to.
I was told my son was killed in the war on terror. He was killed by George Bush's war of terror on the world.
Well, when I was younger, I lied all the time, because once you understand the power of lying, it's really like magic because you transform reality for people.
With the birth of my first child and my involvement with my first husband, I basically stopped lying. I just didn't want to lie anymore, because it reduces the stature of the person you're lying to.
Once in a while, when I was younger, I'd lie, then tell the truth, and I'd feel better.
I never lied to a person in my life; my kids didn't, either.