There is no truth in the shape of a chair you can sit on to entertain a conversation.
Truth could be a chair made of jelly, and if you sat on it, you’d instantly find your ass on the floor and fear of death all over you like an icy blanket.
You’d be left there hurting, in a paddle of jelly and under an icy blanket smelling of your own urinal fear of death. Not a pleasant sight, not a pleasant condition.
Don’t sit on truth.
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