One great use of words is to hide our thoughts.

“One great use of words is to hide our thoughts.” Thus spoke Voltaire, the sharp-tongued sage of the Enlightenment, whose wit illuminated the hypocrisy and folly of his age. At first hearing, his words may seem cynical, even mischievous — yet within them lies a truth as old as speech itself. For language, that greatest gift of civilization, is not only a tool of revelation but also a cloak of concealment. Men use words to share their minds, yes — but just as often, they use them to disguise what their minds truly hold. Voltaire, master of irony and satire, saw this with piercing clarity: that the art of speech is also the art of disguise, and that power often hides behind eloquence.

To understand this saying, we must return to eighteenth-century France, where Voltaire lived amidst the glittering courts of kings and the shadowed corridors of tyranny. The pen was his weapon, and the word his shield. In an age when a careless truth could cost a man his freedom — or his head — Voltaire learned the subtle craft of concealment through expression. He wielded irony like a blade, saying one thing to suggest another, cloaking rebellion in humor, and hiding dangerous truths beneath the veil of wit. Thus, his observation is not mere mockery, but a confession born of experience: he knew that words are the armor of the wise in a world that punishes honesty.

And yet, this truth stretches far beyond the court of kings. From the dawn of time, mankind has learned to use language as both bridge and barrier. A man may speak to persuade, to deceive, or to protect. Politicians craft speeches to stir the hearts of the people while concealing their true motives. Lovers whisper assurances to one another while hiding their fears. Even friends and families — bound by affection — often mask their deepest selves with polite words, for truth, naked and unguarded, is too powerful to bear daily. Thus, speech becomes the garment of thought: it clothes our intentions, shapes our appearances, and allows us to walk safely among others.

Consider, for example, the story of Niccolò Machiavelli, who served the princes of Florence in an age of peril and intrigue. His famous work, The Prince, appears at first as a guide to tyranny — yet many believe it was written as a hidden warning to the people, a veiled attack upon the corruption of power. In his words, Machiavelli concealed fire; in his flattery, he hid defiance. Like Voltaire, he understood that the tongue must sometimes bow to the ear — that truth, to survive, must wear the mask of diplomacy. History is filled with such men — thinkers, prophets, and poets — who, in speaking softly, spoke the loudest truths.

Voltaire’s statement, however, is not only a reflection of cunning but also a mirror held to human weakness. We hide our thoughts not only to deceive others, but often to deceive ourselves. We speak grandly of virtue to hide our cowardice, of peace to hide our anger, of faith to hide our doubt. The more words we pile upon our tongues, the easier it becomes to silence our conscience. Thus, Voltaire reminds us — with his usual bite — that words can be walls as well as windows. They can illuminate truth or obscure it. The wise man must therefore learn not only to speak well but to listen deeply, to seek what lies behind the veil of language.

In this, there is both warning and wisdom. To speak without thought is folly; to think without honesty is ruin. When we use words to hide, we estrange ourselves from authenticity; yet when we use them with purpose, we transform them into instruments of power and peace. Voltaire’s own mastery of language was born not from deceit, but from the need to wield words wisely in a perilous world. He teaches us that speech, like fire, can warm or destroy — and that to use it rightly is among life’s greatest disciplines.

So, my children, take this teaching to heart: let your words serve truth, not vanity. Speak not to impress, but to express; not to conceal, but to reveal when courage demands it. Yet be wise as well — for truth, like the sun, can burn as easily as it can enlighten. Learn to speak with both honesty and discretion, balancing the sword and the shield of speech. Seek always to understand before you reply, and to think before you proclaim. For though words may hide thoughts, they can also uncover the soul — and the one who learns to master both silence and speech walks the path of true wisdom.

And thus, the lesson of Voltaire endures: that language is power, and power must be handled with care. Beware of those who speak beautifully but think falsely, and beware also of becoming one yourself. Use your voice not to hide from truth, but to serve it — to protect, to persuade, and to inspire. For though words may be used to conceal, they are also the only means by which the human spirit can make itself known. When spoken with integrity, they cease to be veils and become light — the light by which all hearts may see.