When we encounter the truth, it has a distinct and peculiar feel. It is not as though we assign that qualia to some of our notions, and not to others. We rather discover that the truth feels the way that it feels, in just the way that we find that oranges are orange and fire is hot. We don’t decide that an idea is true, we understand its truth. Its truth does not originate in us, but is rather borne in upon us forcefully. Nor once we have intuited the truth of a notion is it at all possible for us to delete or controvert that intuition (except insofar as we subsequently refine our understanding of the idea in question). Truth is not in the eye of its beholder; the eye of the intellect beholds it, not as an invention of its own, but as an objective reality.