twenty-seven years and one million words
We followed up on the tip from the camper at the lock and fished below the dam at Port Severn (which is a fish sanctuary in the spring). It turned out to be quite a tip. We saw a monster pike and I caught a decent bass at last.
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