I was given the assignment of answering the question, “What is truth?” in a paragraph. This is what I wrote, in case anybody wants to cheat off me.
What is truth?
Truth is that which philosophers, artists, historians, humanists, poets, writers, and composers have sought for centuries. It is an elusive intellectual quarry, a topic that is not only difficult to define, but perhaps impossible to fully comprehend. Truth can be paradoxical: it belongs to us all collectively, yet to none of us individually. There is no my truth, no your truth—there is simply truth. Truth is immutable, omnipresent, and definite. Truth is the complete absence of subjectivity: one may not argue with truth, lest they be a fool, for it is a losing endeavor that only a fool would undertake. Truth can not be swayed, it can not be bargained with or bought off or bribed. Truth does not bend to the whims or the aims of mortals; do not mistake the employment of lies, delusion, and treachery with the conscription of truth, for they are not the same. Truth is beauty: unblemished, incorruptible, perfect. Truth is god, and all those who seek truth seek god, yet not all those who seek god seek truth.
So what is truth?
Truth is a perfect chord upon a perfect instrument that can only be imperfectly comprehended by imperfect ears, but if you listen closely enough, you can usually make it out all right— even if you can’t quite put it into words.