At his desk the writer worked for an hour. In the end he wrote a book which he called “The Book of the Grotesque.” It was never published, but I saw it once and it left and indelible impression on my mind. The book had one central thought that is very strange and has always remained with me. By remembering it I have been able to understand many people and things that I was never able to understand before. The thought was involved but a simple statement of it would be something like this:
That in the beginning there were a great many thoughts but no such thing as a truth. Man made the truths himself and each truth was a composite of a great many vague thoughts. All about in the world were the truths and they were all beautiful.
The old man listed hundreds of truths in his book. I will not try to tell you all of them. There was the truth of virginity and the truth of passion, the truth of wealth and poverty, of thrift and profligacy, of carelessness and abandon. Hundreds and hundreds were the truths and they all were beautiful.
*Excerpt from a short story called The Book of the Grotesque by Sherwood Anderson
I think of writing as truth of feeling and truth of passion, so when I read this passage I was moved. "All about in the world were the truths and they were all beautiful. Hundreds and hundreds were the truths and they all were beautiful.”
*Painting by William Blake
Mercy and Truth are met together, Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other