Tragedy is like strong acid - it dissolves away all but the very

Hear the fierce words of D. H. Lawrence, poet and prophet of the human soul: “Tragedy is like strong acid—it dissolves away all but the very gold of truth.” In this saying lies the essence of suffering’s terrible gift. For when calamity descends upon man, it strips him of pretense, it burns away illusions, it consumes all that is false or fleeting. What remains is the core, the indestructible essence, the golden truth that no storm can shatter.

The origin of these words flows from Lawrence’s own life, marked by conflict, exile, and misunderstanding. He saw how sorrow laid bare the soul, how in times of despair the masks men wear are torn away, leaving only the raw and the real. To him, tragedy was not merely destruction—it was alchemy. Just as acid refines gold by dissolving dross, so too tragedy refines the human heart, revealing the truths that lie hidden beneath layers of vanity and comfort.

History bears witness to this law. Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln. Before the fires of civil war, America carried its contradictions—freedom on its lips, slavery in its hands. But when the nation was plunged into tragedy, when brother fought brother and blood darkened the fields, the falsehoods were dissolved. In the crucible of suffering, one golden truth emerged: that a nation cannot endure half slave and half free. Tragedy had burned away compromise, and in its ashes, truth stood sovereign.

So too with the people of Japan after the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Cities were dissolved in flame, lives turned to shadows in an instant. And yet, from that abyss, the survivors bore witness to a deeper truth: that humanity’s power to destroy could no longer be matched with hatred or vengeance, but must be tempered with humility and peace. Out of unimaginable tragedy, came the gold of truth about war, its cost, and the sacredness of life.

The lesson for us is plain: do not despise tragedy, though it wounds deeply. For within its pain lies a hidden refining fire. When sorrow comes, when dreams crumble, when the acid of grief eats away the structures of your life, ask not only, “Why this suffering?” but also, “What is the gold that remains?” That gold may be love discovered anew, faith made unshakable, or wisdom gained that no book could teach.

Yet hear this warning: tragedy reveals only to those who endure with open eyes. Some turn bitter, clinging to the ashes of what was lost. Others flee into denial, refusing to see what has been uncovered. But the wise receive tragedy as a terrible teacher, allowing it to strip away what is false until only truth remains. In this way, suffering becomes not only sorrow but transformation, not only loss but revelation.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, let your practice be this: when tragedy visits you, as it visits all who walk beneath the sun, do not drown in despair. Instead, search for the gold it leaves behind. Hold fast to the truths that pain reveals—truths of love, of fragility, of endurance, of the eternal worth of the human soul. And when you rise from the ashes, let that gold guide you, purer and stronger than before.

Thus remember the wisdom of Lawrence: “Tragedy is like strong acid—it dissolves away all but the very gold of truth.” This is no call to seek tragedy, but to meet it with courage when it comes. For in the crucible of suffering, what is false is consumed, and what is eternal shines all the brighter.