Sharp thinkers bristle with quills and ink.
After years in the academic environment, I have learned to mistrust, to probe, to pull out the scalpels of scrutiny, and slice ideas into manageable pieces.
Simmer for twenty minutes on medium, dribble cider vinegar until browned, and serve with wilted sprigs of ambiguity, ambogosity, equivocation, and qualification.
Why do most people only talk about truth and justice when they're angry?
Is truth only found in the injustice, error, and evil of the world? Or are we afraid of something?
Truth is a glowing heat, which to the cold dwellers under the mountain, stirs the stale air with trickles of joyful warmth. For eyes which see only dimly, the light is painful. Yet closed eyes cannot lead us to comfort at the source.
No. Truth is a beautiful lover, one to be extolled for all its singular qualities. And yet, the mere discovery, description and praise of truth is not enough. Relationships change us, soften us. Although lovers must sometimes leave and go to battle, they long to return and embrace. The nature of love, beauty, and truth are found in open arms, not firearms.
Weary traveler, try to rest. Not all truth is so fierce that it can crack the hard defense that shields you from the onslaught of knowledge.
Open up, and be warmed.