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I shrugged and started to lay out my bed. “So he made up stories that seemed like puzzles and asked me if I understood what they meant.” I smiled a little wistfully. “I remember thinking about that boy with the screw in his belly button for days and days, trying to find the sense in it.”
Marten frowned. “That’s a cruel trick to play on a boy.”
The comment surprised me. “What do you mean?”
“Tricking you just to get a little peace and quiet. It’s a shabby thing to do.”
I was taken aback. “It wasn’t done in meanness. I enjoyed it. It gave me something to think about.”
“But it was pointless. Impossible.”
“Not pointless.” I protested. “It’s the questions we can’t answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and he’ll look for his own answers.”
I spread my blanket on the ground and folded over the threadbare tinker’s cloak to wrap myself in. “That way, when he finds the answers, they’ll be precious to him. The harder the question, the harder we hunt. The harder we hunt, the more we learn. An impossible question . . .”
Originally posted by AfterInfinity
I want to die knowing the world is happy and will stay that way for a good while. That's all I want.
Originally posted by AfterInfinity
reply to post by ThatGuy45
... happiness is only subjective to those who have given up on it.