A little truth seasons a lie like salt.
It's the same questions we ask of our existence, and the answer is always the same. The mystery lies not in the question nor the answer, but in the asking and answering themselves, over and over again, and the end is engendered in the beginning.
I preferred a hard truth to a well-meant lie.
Fear and lies fester in darkness. The truth may wound, but it cuts clean.
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