Truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch;

"Truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch; nay, you may kick it about all day like a football, and it will be round and full at evening." Thus declared Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., physician, poet, and thinker of the nineteenth century, whose words ring with a power that belongs not only to his age, but to all ages. In these lines, he speaks to us of the eternal resilience of truth, that indestructible essence which, though scorned, mocked, and battered, yet endures unshaken. He likens it not to fragile glass, but to a sphere, perfect and unyielding, rolling through the centuries untouched by the wounds of men.

The ancients, too, bore witness to this. They knew that while lies gleam brightly for a moment, they dissolve like morning mist. Truth, however, is not fragile—it is adamant, it is iron. You may press it down, cover it with dirt, strike it with malice; still it rises, whole and incorruptible. As the philosopher Heraclitus once said, “The sun is new each day,” for though clouds conceal it, it does not perish. So it is with truth: men may try to blot it out, but it waits patiently until the veil is lifted.

Consider the story of Galileo Galilei, who dared to speak the truth that the earth moves about the sun. The powers of his time sought to smother his voice, to treat the truth as if it were a dangerous heresy. They silenced him, forced him to whisper. Yet the truth he bore could not be broken. Centuries later, the same truth shines brighter than the names of those who tried to bury it. His persecutors are forgotten, but the truth stands, round and full, gleaming in the firmament of human knowledge.

Or reflect on Nelson Mandela, who lived long years behind prison walls, his voice chained by injustice. His truth—that freedom belongs to all people—was kicked about like Holmes’s football. It was trampled by laws, mocked by oppressors, and nearly suffocated in silence. Yet, at last, the world saw that the truth remained whole, untouched, ready to blaze forth when the time was ripe. His liberation was not only his own but also the triumph of truth itself, which no prison walls could contain.

Holmes’s words remind us that the attempt to destroy truth is always an illusion. You may strike at it, deny it, or twist it, but when the day closes, it still stands. Lies are brittle; truth is tough. Lies shatter under the weight of time; truth rolls on, whole and invincible. To those who fear to speak truth because of opposition, let this saying be a torch: the blows of men cannot harm the eternal.

But, O listeners, this is not only a call to trust in truth’s endurance—it is a call to courage. If truth cannot be broken, then our task is not to fear for its survival, but to live by it faithfully. We must not be deceived into thinking that silence or compromise can erase reality. Instead, we must align ourselves with truth, knowing it will outlast every storm. For to cling to lies is to cling to shadows, but to stand with truth is to stand with the eternal.

Therefore, take this lesson: seek the truth, love it, defend it. When you are mocked for it, remember that you are but a moment, while truth is forever. When you are tempted to abandon it for comfort, remember that comfort fades, but truth abides. And when you fear that truth has been beaten down, remember Holmes’s words—it will return, whole, at evening, round as the sun that sinks but rises again.

So let us walk as keepers of truth. Let us teach it to our children, live it in our deeds, and speak it even when our voices tremble. For truth is tough, and it does not need our protection—but it asks for our companionship, that we may share in its endurance. And in that companionship, we find the path to justice, to freedom, to the undying light that no force of this world can extinguish.