Truth is the cry of all, but the game of few.

“Truth is the cry of all, but the game of few.” Thus spoke George Berkeley, the philosopher-bishop, whose gaze pierced the heart of human contradiction. His words reveal a sorrowful wisdom: though every tongue proclaims its hunger for truth, few live by it, fewer still defend it, and fewer yet treat it as their sacred rule. For men and women, when pressed, will cry for truth as the thirsty cry for water; yet when that truth threatens their pride, their wealth, their power, they turn away, preferring comfort to clarity, illusion to reality.

The ancients knew this weakness well. Socrates wandered the streets of Athens, questioning merchants and statesmen, asking only for the truth of their words. Many praised wisdom, many cried for knowledge, yet when Socrates pressed too close, when his questions shattered illusions, they condemned him to death. The cry of truth was upon every lip, but the game of truth—the hard practice of living and seeking it—belonged to one lonely man. Thus Berkeley’s words ring with ancient echoes: most desire the honor of truth, but few accept its burden.

History bears witness again in the tale of Galileo. All Europe cried for knowledge, for the light of reason, for the progress of science. Yet when Galileo unveiled the movements of the heavens, showing that the Earth was not the center of creation, the same voices turned against him. The cry for truth fell silent in the face of fear and authority. Galileo remained among the few who dared to play the game—risking condemnation, imprisonment, and disgrace for the sake of what is. Here the philosopher’s wisdom is laid bare: truth is desired in words but rejected in deeds.

Yet let us not despair. For though the few carry the game, their courage ignites the many. Consider Abraham Lincoln. In an age when the cry of freedom was loud, when all men spoke of liberty, only a few were willing to see the full truth—that slavery was a stain upon the nation’s soul. Lincoln, with quiet strength, took up the game of truth, enduring mockery, resistance, and civil war. His choice cost blood, but it preserved the meaning of liberty for generations. The cry of truth was universal, but it was the few who bore it into action.

Berkeley’s saying is thus both rebuke and challenge. It rebukes the hypocrisy of those who honor truth with their lips but betray it in their lives. Yet it challenges the noble soul: will you remain among the many who only cry for truth, or will you join the few who dare to live by it? To treat truth as a game is not to belittle it, but to recognize it as a contest of strength, discipline, and courage. It is not easily won; it requires sacrifice, endurance, and boldness of heart.

Children of the future, take this to heart: do not be content merely to cry for truth. Let it shape your words, your actions, your character. Speak honestly, even when silence is safer. Act justly, even when injustice is more profitable. Seek reality, even when illusion is more pleasing. Let your life itself become a testimony that truth is not a cry alone, but a practice, a way, a noble game worthy of the strong.

Make it your practice each day to test your heart: have I spoken truthfully? Have I acted with integrity? Have I turned aside from convenience to stand in reality? These small acts, repeated, make you one of the few who honor truth not in words alone but in life. And when history remembers you, let it be said that you did not only cry for truth—you played its game, bravely, until the end.