twenty-eight years and a million words
Nine out of eleven kids in the two-year-olds' class at the day care have the influenza.
I don't see how it could be far off for Kenny and his classmates, because they share a room with the older kids, and there's never a nose in sight that's not runny. Hang on, everybody, here it comes!
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