Finding Truth Book Novels & Stories

The room fell silent, captivated by the book's sudden appearance. "It contains the record of both the good and the evil that each person has done. This book is the ultimate judge of our actions, as it holds the truth of every soul." "The Book of Life will guide us in determining the outcome of this trial," he continued, his gaze piercing as he looked at me. "It will reveal the truth of your actions and help us reach a just verdict."

"In any war, truth is the first victim. Can you not see that? Could she not see it?" "Can you deny that Tina Davis was murdered because she was testing lies that reinforced the war struggle recovering than the facts would have done?" "I am saying," the Home Secretary said, "that the disparity between truth and lies is immaterial in time of war. True or false? Right or wrong? These questions are inconsequential now. It's all down to allegiance. Are you with us or against us? Surely you of can see that." "And anyone who isn't with you?" "-- is with the guerrillas and must be removed!" said the Home Secretary.

She had known it would be, since approximately March. She wrote: I learned that truth is a process rather than an event. You do not arrive at it once and possess it permanently. You maintain access to it through the ongoing choice to be honest even when the alternative is more comfortable, and that maintenance is daily work, not a thing that can be completed and set aside.

It has been about uncovering the humanity buried beneath generations of rewritten history. The chamber falls silent once more. The Origin Book finally responds. A faint silver glow spreads across its cover before a single line appears. "Truth remembered is only the beginning." Before Valerie or Silas can react, a low rumble echoes through the hidden passage. The old chamber begins responding to something deeper beneath the foundation. Whatever remains hidden below has awakened. And for the first time, it was not responding to the Blood Oath. It was responding to the truth.

I knew it well. “The Book of Forgotten Truths,” I read aloud, my voice hushed but heavy. Jimmie nodded slowly. “Yes, Devon. The Book of Forgotten Truths.” I blinked at him, utterly thrown. Never in all my days had I imagined my morning would turn like this. I shook my head, muttering half to myself, half to him, “What the hell is going on, Jimmie? What is this book doing here? Why do you have it?” He inhaled, steadying himself, then answered softly, “I came across it in the library… through Molly. This book holds truths I couldn’t risk getting out.”

Chance and intent worked together. People like Thora imagine that truth is a shield. It wasn’t. Truth needed context and allies and, often, quieter deaths. Stories, however, were blunt instruments. You could throw a simple narrative into the world and watch it do the heavy lifting for you. People tidy complexity into a headline and call it understanding.

"How can you be sure that she is okay? How did you know that she can handle it? Everything you've said were all lies. Explain properly. The truth... I don't care whether it's confidential or not. Explain it." The hunters, the people from the Monitoring Department, Mr. Ambrose, and President Carlton were all silent for a minute. The Organization President closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again and he sighed. He knew that he had no choice, but to tell them the truth, especially when Hunter Max was in this state. President Carlton knew that things would be bad if he continued to lie, he saw Hunter Max in this state in the past. It was when he lost the woman he loved.

"I mean, no offend, okay? It's just an opinion," "Sure, sure, what is it?" She agreed as she nodded every after of the word sure. "What if the four marks are the good ones and the government is the bad one?" He asked maintaining eye contact with her. "Ohh..." She got speechless. "That's... out of the box," She added. "By the way, in any chance, did you witness the appearance of the Sacred Book of Truths? I am curious!" He acted like an innocent curious boy. "Yeah, sure! We can go there right now!"

The floor l am lying on is cold but my body is sweating too much. Each step he takes towards the table increases each drop of the salty liquid. I stretch my hand to touch the floor only to get them wet and sticky. I know it is the blood of my parents. I know l should go out and scream at his face for killing them, but l need to stay alive. I crawl towards the mess. I don't care to get my dress dirty. I keep crawling but suddenly l feel something hit my head as extreme pain dragged me to darkness. I have been found out.

Here is what they do not teach you about telling the truth: it is not simply the opposite of lying. It is an active, deliberate, sometimes terrifying choice to hand someone the most accurate version of events and trust that accuracy is enough. Some mornings it is not enough. Most mornings it is the only thing that holds. Z.Cole, notes written at nine p.m. on a Thursday that lasted three days She called Sade Williams at eleven-thirteen a.m.