Quote 58
And I said, "I have been out." This is called a white lie. A white lie is not a lie at all. It is where you tell the truth but you do not tell all of the truth. (79.3)
If you ask us, Christopher has a pretty narrow definition of lying. (We can break it down like this: adding things – or exaggerating – is lying, and is not okay. But taking things away – omitting things – is not lying, and is okay.) And, hey, even by his own definition, he might not be lying, but he certainly isn't telling the truth.
Quote 59
And I said "Yes," because loving someone is helping them when they get into trouble, and looking after them, and telling them the truth, and Father [...] always tells me the truth, which means that he loves me. (137.10)
This remark goes far in expressing just what a betrayal it is for Christopher's father to have lied about his mother's death. For Christopher, truth = love. Without truth, there cannot be love.
Quote 60
We do this because sometimes Father wants to give me a hug, but I do not like hugging people, so we do this instead, and it means that he loves me. (31.5)
We don't know about you, but we find this image both really sweet and devastatingly sad. Maybe we just really like hugging. Sure, there's nothing intrinsic about hugs that screams "love." You can hug people you don't like – your opponent in a boxing match, say, or your least-favorite relative. But there's certainly something in an embrace that signals a deep emotional connection. To imagine Christopher and his father touching fingertips seems like a terribly inadequate replacement.