The truth, indeed, is something that mankind, for some mysterious reason, instinctively dislikes.
Every man who tries to tell it is unpopular, and even when, by the sheer strength of his case,
he prevails, he is put down as a scoundrel.
—H. L. Mencken
What is the price of Experience? Do men buy it for a song?
Or wisdom for a dance in the street? No, it is bought with the price
Of all that a man hath, his house, his wife, his children.
Wisdom is sold in the desolate market where none come to buy,
And in the wither'd field where the farmer plows for bread in vain.
—William Blake, Vala: Night the Second