A lie is simple, a truism is safe, but a thesis is terrifying.
Of the thousands and thousands of words we say in a day, they are all easily categorized into one of these three distinctions. The lie is that which we know is untrue, told -- almost exclusively -- to protect or preserve. The trick to a lie is its necessity; deceiving yourself into believing the truth is dangerous makes lying simple.
A truism is something that is generally accepted as true. Therefore, others know it is true. It is immaterial whether or not we accept that the sky is blue; if others accept it, it is true. Thus, the truism is safe, as it is ridiculous to challenge the truism.
But the thesis is neither true nor false. It may be the former, the latter, or both. The thesis is a belief. "Things do not always work out," "There is strength in numbers," "God exists," "God does not exist," "We exist," and on. In fact, the majority of the things we say in a day -- or, at least, the majority of the things that I say in a day -- are theses.
Upon closer examination, each thesis we speak works to color the greater thesis, the one that we hold at the very center of ourselves, too terrified to speak aloud for fear of its truth examined.
I make no claims as to the wrongness or rightness of this outlook; it's just a thesis.
Join me for a cup.