Society of Lies

by Lauren Ling Brown

There is a powerful fascination of belonging to an organization [designed for] literary recreation, glorious friendships, high social culture, and manly honor, as well as mutual help and good fellowship through after years. —An anonymous alumnus’s response to Princeton University’s ban on societies, New-York Tribune, January 22, 1876

Human nature being what it is, it is inevitable that secret societies should be used for evil purposes. —Trustee Reverend Charles Hodge, Class of 1819, New-York Tribune, January 6, 1876

It feels dangerous, cultlike, but isn’t fun always a little bit reckless?

take every strange adventure life presents to experience the world, not shy away from it.

mothers say the love for their child is more intense than anything else,

When you find someone who sees you in a way no one else does, who understands you and makes you feel like you can’t be whole without them, it wraps you in a vise and makes you forget how to live life without them.

home became the friends that kept showing up, the spaces that welcomed me.

It’s strange how after you lose someone, they start to fade piece by piece, until all that’s left are memories that could slip through your fingers like water.

‘Our comforting conviction that the world makes sense rests on a secure foundation: our almost unlimited ability to ignore our ignorance.’

“The world does not make sense. Humans are not rational decision makers—we are driven by our wants, our needs, our fears.”

education means choice, and choice means freedom.

I like the way his lips feel on mine, and his lack of hesitation is attractive.

I like the way his mind works—he’s smart but sensitive and doesn’t accept anything at face value. I like how creative he is, obsessed with abstract reasoning, numbers, and design.

I believed that we all experienced some form of bias in our lives. To be human was to categorize, wasn’t it? Was bias inherent to being human?

Basically white? What did it mean to be basically white? Did she just dismiss my identity, my family’s struggles, and my personal experiences in one breath?

“Ubi amici ibidem sunt opes. Where there are friends, there are riches,”

Odd as it may seem, I am my remembering self, and the experiencing self, who does my living, is like a stranger to me. —Daniel Kahneman, Thinking, Fast and Slow

Maybe I don’t need a house or a husband or a corporate job, or all the things society tells us will make us happy, because from what I’ve seen, they don’t.

How often, in the world, is silence what allows horrible people to get away with their crimes?