The first ingredient in conversation is truth, the next good

When William Temple declared, “The first ingredient in conversation is truth, the next good sense, the third good humor, and the fourth wit,” he spoke not only as a man of intellect, but as one who understood the sacred art of human connection. In these few words, he laid down a map for the soul’s dialogue — a way to speak that enlightens, not wounds; that unites, not divides. For conversation, when guided by truth and softened by laughter, becomes more than words — it becomes communion, the meeting of two living minds in the gentle rhythm of understanding.

The ancients knew that speech is power, the bridge between hearts and the root of every civilization. From the councils of Athens to the temples of Jerusalem, from the Roman forum to the humble hearth, words have built empires and healed nations. Yet Temple reminds us that words without truth are hollow, like a song sung by the deaf. The first ingredient in every worthy conversation, he says, is truth — for only truth can nourish the soul. To speak truth is not merely to tell facts, but to speak from sincerity, from integrity, from the deep well of one’s honest being. Without truth, speech becomes manipulation; with truth, it becomes light.

But truth alone is not enough. As Temple wisely adds, the next ingredient is good sense — the wisdom to know when, how, and to whom the truth should be spoken. Many have burned bridges in the name of honesty because they lacked discernment. Good sense is the balance between courage and kindness, the art of delivering truth in a way that builds rather than breaks. The great philosopher Socrates embodied this harmony. He asked questions that exposed ignorance, yet his intent was never cruelty, but awakening. His “good sense” made his truth enduring — for wisdom without compassion is as dangerous as ignorance without restraint.

Then comes the third ingredient: good humor. For what is conversation without laughter? Without warmth? Laughter is the oil that keeps the gears of dialogue turning smoothly, preventing friction and fatigue. It is the sign of an open heart — one that does not take itself too seriously. When humor enters conversation, pride is disarmed and friendship blooms. Even in the courts of kings, jesters were kept not for folly, but for wisdom hidden in laughter. They reminded the mighty that truth can wear a smile, and that humility is the guardian of peace. Good humor, as Temple knew, is not mockery but mercy — the laughter that binds, not the laughter that wounds.

Finally, wit — the fourth and rarest ingredient — gives conversation its brilliance. Wit is the spark that illuminates, the quicksilver of intellect that turns words into art. Yet wit without the other three is vanity, a dagger without a handle. True wit, born of truth and tempered by good sense and humor, delights without offending, sharpens without cutting. Think of Voltaire, whose wit could pierce hypocrisy but also uplift the spirit. His words danced, but they danced with purpose — not to humiliate, but to awaken. In this way, wit becomes not a weapon, but a flame — a light that reveals truth with beauty.

These four ingredients — truth, good sense, good humor, and wit — are not separate virtues, but a chain of harmony. Truth gives weight; good sense gives direction; humor gives warmth; wit gives grace. Together they form the speech of the wise, the conversation that strengthens friendship and uplifts the human soul. Without one, the others falter — for truth without humor is harsh, humor without truth is hollow, wit without sense is cruel, and sense without wit is dull. Only together do they create the melody of noble discourse.

The lesson, dear listener, is this: guard your tongue, for it is the mirror of your soul. When you speak, let your words pass through these four gates — Is it true? Is it sensible? Is it kind? Is it graceful? If your words can pass through all four, then they are worthy to be spoken. In this way, you will not merely converse — you will connect, and through that connection, you will leave behind harmony instead of noise, friendship instead of distance. For as William Temple teaches, true conversation is not the art of speaking much, but the art of speaking well — and when seasoned with truth, sense, humor, and wit, it becomes the highest form of wisdom shared between souls.