If truth is relative, then it’s cousin is anarchy.

Truth speaks for itself if we’d just let it speak.

Such is the power of truth that even the slightest whisper of it can handily drown out the most boisterous of lies, which may explain why in many instances God only needs to whisper.

The ‘fact’ of my actions frequently collide with the ‘fiction’ of my words. And at what point will I live what I say, so I will avoid what I do?

To live a lie may allow us to avoid the truth, but the real lie lays in believing that we can avoid the truth in the first place.

Too often fear is fiction madly running amuck, all the while madly tracking ‘muck’ across the floor of fact.