Speak the truth in love. —St. Paul

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies. —Fleetwood Mac

I lie to my children every day. Just little things to get them out the door when the school run is happening. —Rochelle Humes

I cannot tell a lie. —George Washington

* * *

I ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen for several years and for whom time had been unkind. I silently gasp.

My mind says:

Oh, my god! What happened to him?! Where did his hair go? Look at those wrinkles, that sagging chin, those bent shoulders! Look at that belly! Such decrepitude! How sad! Does he have any idea?!

That’s what my mind says, but my lips say:

WOW. Glad to see you, old friend. You look GREAT!

And he says the same to me.

(He’s lying, of course.)

We part, friendship intact.

Indeed, love may make the world go round, but lies keep it lubricated.

By the way, not a single one of my other old friends looks the least bit wizened, doddering, or decrepit. They’ve all found the Fountain of Youth. They all look 20.

And that’s no lie.