Understanding, as we understand it, is misunderstanding. - Elias Canetti

É parte desse aprendizado, sobretudo, que estejamos nós próprios impregnados por um modelo, ao qual nos apegamos em todas as circunstâncias, do qual não duvidamos, ao qual não renunciamos, que gostaríamos de alcançar e, no entanto, jamais alcançamos totalmente. Mesmo se o tivéssemos alcançado, jamais nos seria permitido admitir que o fizemos, pois com isso o modelo alcançado perde sua força. Ele só nutre àquele que se vê distante dele. A tentativa de superar essa distância, a tentativa de, por assim dizer, acossar o modelo, deve ser efetuada renovadamente, mas jamais obter êxito. E, enquanto não o obtiver, enquanto a tensão da distância se conservar, o salto em direção ao modelo poderá sempre ser tentado de novo. Importantes são essas tentativas aparentemente vãs — aparentemente, pois é no decorrer delas que acumulamos uma experiência, uma capacidade, uma qualidade após a outra.

Another woman catches sight of Fischerle's hump on the ground and runs screaming into the street: 'Murder! Murder!' She takes the hump for a corpse. Further details - she knows none. The murderer is very thin, a poor sap, how he came to do it, you shouldn't have thought it of him. Shot may be, someone suggests. Of course, everyone heard the shot. Three streets off, the shot had been heard. Not a bit of it, that was a motor tyre. No, it was a shot! The crowd won't be done out of its shot. A threatening attitude is assumed towards the doubters. Don't let him go. An accessory. Trying to confuse the trail! Out of the building comes more news. The woman's statements are revised. The thin man has been murdered. And the corpse on the floor? It's alive. It's the murderer, he had hidden himself. He was tring to creep away between the corpse's legs when he was caught. The more recent information is more detailed. The little man is a dwarf. What do you expect, a cripple! The blow was actually struck by another. A redheaded man. Ah, those redheads. The dwarf put him up to it. Lynch him! The woman gave the alarm. Cheers for the woman! She screamed and screamed. A Woman! Doesn't know what fear is. The murderer had threatened her. The redhead. It's always the Reds. He tore her collar off. No shooting. Of course not. What did he say? Someone must have invented the shot. The dwarf. Where is he? Inside. Rush the doors! No one else can get in. It's full up. What a murder! The woman had a plateful. Thrashed her every day. Half dead, she was. What did she marry a dwarf for? I wouldn't marry a dwarf. And you with a big man to yourself. All she could find. Too few men, that's what it is. The war! Young people to-day...Quite young he was too. Not eighteen. And a dwarf already. Clever! He was born that way. I know that. I've seen him. Went in there. Couldn't stand it. Too much blood. That's why he's so thin. An hour ago he was a great, fat man. Loss of blood, horrible! I tell you corpses sw

Is there still a possibility of public truth?
The prime condition for that would be that you pose your own questions, not just answer them. The questions of others have a distorting influence, one adapts to them, accepts words and concepts that should be avoided at all costs.
Ideally, you should use only words which you have filled with new meaning.