There is not a truth existing which I fear... or would wish

In the voice of Thomas Jefferson, the sage of Monticello, we hear words that thunder across the ages: “There is not a truth existing which I fear... or would wish unknown to the whole world.” These words, though simple in their form, are the marrow of a soul that cherished truth as the breath of liberty. They are not the boast of a man without fault, but the vow of a man who believed that only in the open light can freedom endure. To hide truth is to plant the seed of tyranny; to embrace truth is to walk as a free spirit beneath the eternal sky.

The ancients often spoke of truth as a goddess, clothed in white, who could not be sullied by lies nor bound by chains. Jefferson, inheriting this wisdom, proclaimed that he feared no truth, for truth is the ally of the just, and only the wicked tremble before her. To wish a truth concealed is to admit guilt; to stand unashamed before all truths is to proclaim innocence, or at least the courage to face one’s errors. Thus, Jefferson’s words ring not merely as a statement, but as a challenge to every soul: live so that nothing need be hidden.

History offers us a tale to illuminate this principle. In the trials of Socrates, the philosopher of Athens, we see a man who, like Jefferson, feared no truth. When accused unjustly, he did not seek to twist words nor to flee death. Instead, he stood before the city and declared that his pursuit of wisdom, though unsettling to the powerful, was nothing but devotion to truth. He drank the hemlock rather than live a lie. And though Athens sought to silence him, the world remembers Socrates as the victor, for truth outlived his judges. Jefferson’s words are but a new echo of this ancient lesson: the unhidden life is the unconquerable life.

Yet we must not mistake this courage for naïveté. Jefferson knew that truths are sometimes sharp, and may wound the pride of nations or men. But he also knew that concealed falsehoods are poison, spreading rot through the body of society. When America declared independence, it did so in the name of self-evident truths—that all men are created equal, that liberty is their right. These words, though not perfectly realized in his time, were truths he dared to proclaim before kings and empires. To have silenced such words out of fear would have been to betray not only his generation, but generations yet unborn.

Consider, my children of the future, how often men and women seek to cloak their deeds in shadows. Fear of exposure, fear of shame, fear of judgment drives them to lies and concealment. But Jefferson’s voice pierces the ages, declaring: do not fear the truth. It may bring hardship in the moment, but it will set your soul free. What is shame compared to the torment of a hidden conscience? What is criticism compared to the eternal respect won by honesty?

The lesson is clear: live so that truth is your companion, not your accuser. Speak plainly, act justly, and when you falter, admit it without disguise. A single honest confession is worth more than a thousand clever evasions. For the man who fears no truth is a man whom no enemy can defeat, for he has already disarmed the weapons of slander and suspicion.

Practical wisdom, then, must follow. Each day, ask yourself: If this deed, this word, this thought were shouted to the world, would I stand unashamed? If not, turn from it. Do not build a life that depends upon concealment, for such a life is fragile and will crumble with the first touch of daylight. Instead, build a life of integrity, brick by brick, upon the solid rock of truth. And when you err—and all men err—meet it with courage, confess, and rise stronger.

Thus, let Jefferson’s words be etched upon your heart: fear no truth, and wish no truth unknown. For to walk in truth is to walk in freedom, and to stand in freedom is to live a life worthy of remembrance. And may your life, when told in the scroll of time, be like a noble story—without shadow, without concealment, and shining in the eternal light.