Truth of a modest sort I can promise you, and also sincerity. That complete, praiseworthy sincerity which, while it delivers one into the hands of one’s enemies, is as likely as not to embroil one with one’s friends.

This remark comes from Joseph Conrad’s preface to *The Nigger of the “Narcissus”* (1897), written as a kind of artistic manifesto. In it, Conrad addresses the reader directly about what fiction can honestly offer: not doctrinal certainty or moral instruction, but a limited, hard-won “truth” rendered through sincere perception. The line appears amid his reflections on the writer’s obligations and the social risks of candor—how frankness can expose an author (or any speaker) to hostility from opponents and discomfort among allies. It frames Conrad’s stance that integrity in representation may be admirable yet socially perilous.

Conrad distinguishes between two ideals often treated as synonymous: truth and sincerity. He offers only “truth of a modest sort,” suggesting that any account—especially a personal or artistic one—can be partial, contingent, and limited by perspective. Yet he can promise sincerity: an honest intention to speak without self-deception or rhetorical disguise. The second sentence sharpens this into a social and ethical paradox. Full candor is “praiseworthy,” but it is also risky: it can arm adversaries with ammunition and, just as painfully, strain friendships by refusing the small fictions that lubricate social life. The passage frames sincerity as a moral virtue with real interpersonal costs.