(Un)Certain Truth(s) VI of XI, or, Truth themselves

For once, truth herself or himself or themself, depending on your love-affair with truth, truth itself, for what it’s worth, spoke out.  The voice was nothing like a bell like some had imagined, at least nothing like a musical bell; if a bell at all, it was the sound of a cracked bell of a ruin somewhere whose song was ruined too.  Truth said, Go on, say it–say it!  Say what you are thinking, what your heart and head thinks: I am not what you were after and dreamed of all this time, you see what little manners and decorum, what little respectability I have when my mouth opens.  You wish I hadn’t opened it; you wish I had stayed like all the best truths: tight-lipped.