twenty-seven years and one million words
I met with John Pak and Charlie today for lunch. We all three of us had Dolsot Bibim Bop, and discussed the world's problems. It was good. And amusing; the last time we three met was in the Spring in Calgary.
The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself.
—Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov