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What is truth?
Chester is a very sure person— he’s sure he’s right, and we’re all wrong, and we just will not admit we’re wrong. My opinion is that Chester really does believe that if we would all just stop overreacting and listen carefully to him that we would all be convinced that there is no such thing as romantic love and that society is built on a fallacy of some sort, and that everything is an exchange of goods—a Libertarian kind of idea, I suppose—and that, you know, we need to restructure how we get along with each other and then everything would be hunky dory. Except that it’s completely unworkable, and that no human being—society is never going to head where he’s going, but he’s the one lone man in the universe who knows all the answers, and I always think that that’s a pretty good sign that you’re wrong. [emphasis added]
What is it about so many of us that, we can't just believe what we believe, we have to make everyone else wrong? If Chester feels there's no such thing as love, that may well be true for him and his life as he experiences it. But he doesn't get to decide that for everyone else.
Or all those people who hate a book, or a song or a movie, and so no one else is allowed to like it? Too many of us have not learned that a lot of truths in life — not all, but a lot — are individual truths rather than universal. We are not all the same.
(Or so it seems to me, anyway.)