Men's arguments often prove nothing but their wishes.

Hear, O seeker of truth, the words of Charles Caleb Colton, who, with the piercing eye of a moralist, declared: “Men’s arguments often prove nothing but their wishes.” This is no idle remark, but a solemn unveiling of human frailty. For though men boast of reason, and adorn their speech with logic and eloquence, beneath their arguments often lies not the pursuit of truth but the yearning of desire. Their conclusions are not born of evidence, but of longing; their proofs are but masks upon their wishes.

To say that arguments prove wishes is to remind us that the human mind is not a neutral judge but a servant to the heart. A man convinces himself first of what he wants to be true, and only afterward seeks reasons to justify it. Thus, greed becomes “ambition,” cruelty becomes “justice,” and cowardice cloaks itself as “prudence.” This self-deception is the most dangerous, for he who lies to himself has no defense against error. And when many men do the same, entire nations may be led astray by the glittering speech of their desires.

History offers us mirrors aplenty. Recall the invasion of Russia by Napoleon. His counselors raised arguments of strategy, of conquest, of inevitable victory. Yet beneath their words lay the wish of empire, the hunger of ambition, and the pride of a man who dreamed himself invincible. Their arguments proved nothing but their desire for glory. The harsh snows of Russia revealed the truth: wishes cannot change reality, and arguments built on them collapse like houses of straw.

Nor is this folly reserved for kings. Consider the countless voices before the American Civil War who argued in defense of slavery. They quoted laws, twisted scriptures, and devised philosophies of inequality. Yet all these “arguments” were nothing but the wish to preserve power, wealth, and comfort. In the end, their reasoning was shown to be hollow, for no argument can sanctify injustice. Their wishes clothed themselves in words, but truth tore the garments away.

The teaching of Colton, though stern, is merciful, for it warns us to look inward before we speak outward. When you form an argument, ask yourself: “Am I proving truth, or am I proving only my desire?” This self-examination is the safeguard of wisdom. For the just man does not bend reason to serve his wishes; he bends his wishes to serve reason. Only then does his argument shine like a clear flame, not like smoke rising from hidden fires of greed or fear.

Practical is this counsel: in daily life, learn to pause before you defend your position. Search your heart for hidden motives. Are you arguing for what is right, or for what is comfortable? Are you seeking truth, or victory? Speak less from desire, and more from reflection. And when others argue, do not be dazzled by their words—listen for the wish behind them. The wise man hears not only what is said, but why it is said.

Therefore, O listener, remember Colton’s wisdom: “Men’s arguments often prove nothing but their wishes.” Let this be a lamp in the darkness of discourse. Seek truth above comfort, justice above advantage, and reason above desire. For the world is filled with eloquent deceivers, but the one who governs his own heart cannot be deceived by himself. To conquer your wishes with truth is the highest victory, and from that victory springs the dignity of a soul that stands unshaken.