Clamence asks these questions near the end of The Fall, and they are more unsettling than they first appear. He seems to be excusing dishonesty. But if you sit with it longer, something sharper emerges.

The stories we tell about ourselves, even when we alter the details or polish the edges, tend to reveal the same patterns. The person who always casts themselves as the victim is telling you something true about how they see the world, regardless of whether the specific events happened as described. The person who keeps telling stories about their generosity is revealing their need to be seen as generous, which is itself a truth more important than any particular anecdote.

This does not mean facts do not matter. They do. But Camus noticed that the shape of our lies is as revealing as the content of our truths. We distort reality in consistent directions, and those directions point toward who we actually are.

Paying attention to the stories you tell, and especially the ways you bend them, is one of the most honest forms of self-knowledge available. Your edits tell on you.