Pinnochio's nose grows whenever he knows but shows something that would oppose what goes on in the factual, material version of real (which is, for lack of a better
concept of the casual lie infers one of two things. Either there is a hierarchy of lies that makes those moments of mendacity that do not lead to mass graves, torture or enslavement unimportant and a waste of conscience. In this theory, the elaborate lies of the propagandist--wrapped in obvious manipulations and a malicious protocol--eclipse the moral crisis of cheating spouses and thieving school children. Perhaps appropriately. On the other side, such an interruption in
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
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