Or every man be blind. The truth is the kindest thing we can give folks in the end. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic. Truth made you a traitor as it often does in a time of scoundrels. Every new truth begins in a shocking heresy.
Truth usually is the same old story.
The simplest and most familiar truth seems new and wonderful the instant we ourselves experience it for the first time. And once they've chosen them, for good reason or no reason, they then proceed rather selectively, wisely gathering whatever will bolster them or at least carry out the color scheme. Truth is its own defense. So often the truth is told with hate, and lies are told with love. The truth is balance, but the opposite of truth, which is unbalance, may not be a lie.