Why is it that we always feel the need to find the answers to questions we hardly know why we’re asking? Perhaps sometimes it’s nicer to live in the comfort of an unanswered question, the comfort of innocence, like childhood memories or tetherball or four-square, or no homework.

Perhaps the true answers don’t lie in statements but in questions.

That it’s not WHAT you think but HOW you think. That it’s not what you know, but what you try to understand. It’s a sense of humility, devoid of egoism or selfishness, realizing that there are some questions you don’t know the answers to, or that there are some questions that will never ever be answered. The comfort of ignorance is like the comfort of death; it’s a humility, a modesty that makes life so much fuller and so much more real.

I’m sorry if that made no sense. Just some ideas I wanted to share.