I sat in my small print shop on High Street, the air thick with the smell of ink and drying paper. Outside, a summer rain drummed against the windowpanes while inside, I sorted through letters from men in London and Philadelphia who argued fiercely about taxes and trade. Each wrote as if his own view was the only truth that mattered, convinced he served the public good by defending his private gain. They saw their faction’s victory as the nation’s salvation, yet they spoke past one another like ships on different courses.

I ask you to watch your own heart when you join a cause or a crowd. Do not mistake the noise of agreement for the voice of reason. When you feel your spirit rise with a party, pause and ask if you seek only the applause of friends or the true welfare of all. Build your life on what is real, not on what merely seems so to those who stand beside you.