O truth of things!
I am determined to press the whole way toward you,
I scale mountains, or dive in the sea after you.
All must have reference to the compact, all-diffused truth of the universe.
The truth includes all, and is compact just as much as space is compact,
And there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth—
But all is truth without exception.
Truth consists in the just relations of objects to each other,
If there be equilibrium or volition there is truth,
If there be man or woman there is truth,
If there be things at all upon the earth there is truth.
The true words do not fail, for motion does not fail and reflection does not fail.
All truths wait in all things,
The truths of the earth continually wait,
They are imbued through all things conveying themselves willingly,
They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it,
They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon.
O truth of the earth!
This is the earth’s word—the round and compact earth’s:
I and the truth are one, we are curiously welded.
The truths of the earth are not so conceal’d either,
They are calm, subtle, untransmissible by print.
I cannot put my toe anywhere to the ground,
But it must touch numberless and curious books,
Each one scorning all that school and science can do fully to translate them.
Each thing exactly represents itself and what has preceded it.
Great is the quality of truth in man,
The quality of truth in man supports itself through all changes,
It is inevitably in the man—he and it are in love, and never leave each other.
Truths unfold to you and emit themselves more fragrant than roses from living buds;
But it must be in yourself,
It shall come from the soul,
It shall be love.
A test of anything—it proves itself to the experience and senses of men and women!
Bring it to folk and you will see whether they doubt,
As we cannot be mistaken at last, they cannot be mistaken.
You doubt not the east and the west,
You doubt not contact or hunger or love, your desires or your fingernails,
You doubt not metal or acid or steam;
We do not doubt the mystery of life,
We do not doubt sight.
Who knows the curious mystery of the eyesight?
This is removed from any proof but its own.
Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so,
Only what nobody denies is so,
What does not satisfy each one and convince each one—that is of no account.
There never grew up in any of the continents of the globe, nor upon any planet, nor at any time during the changes of life anywhere, a being whose instinct hated the truth,
Henceforth let no man of us lie.
This is curious and may not be realized immediately, but it must be realized,
I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest,
And that the universe does.
I see that there are really no liars or lies after all—
Nothing fails its perfect return, and what are called lies are perfect returns;
There is no lie or form of lie, and can be none, but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon itself,
Where has fail’d a perfect return indifferent of lies or the truth?
NEXT: TRUTH IS SUBJECTIVE