Why do people ask questions?

Why do people keep asking questions?

What are we driven by? Where are we driven unto. In a hypothetical situation, there actually being a place where you know everything, would you stop asking questions?

Is it what people call Nirvana?

Something on the lines of "Nirvana or Moksha, by another name ..."

For one, it is funny. That our hypothesis exists. Because I do not really think that it does.

I do not think that humans would stop ask questions.

Somehow that has translated into being a humanistic trait altogether. It is amazing how something that has evolved along the way, coming away into meaning a different meaning: Humans defined by the logic that they are humans because they ask questions!

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Complaining Cat

She’s whining every time I say something. It is hard to set her meter on “not complaining”. I wish I knew how I would do that. I wish I wish, but I wish in futility, for the most parts.

She complains close to my ears about every tiny little thing. I have told her to stop, but obviously, she complains about that too, though not in the open. I do not know how she could keep respect for me and complain about me. But maybe the reason, she is not doing the complaining about me in front me is because she does some respect.

I wish, she had a little more respect for me.

Guest Post: Stray Words

Guest Posted by: Graphics Dizine; Contact: creativetamo [at] gmail.com

My heart is like a water mark on my conscience and the mind seems to follow the trail of wind making patterns on sand. Where siege is seek from this entrenchment upon my soul. Neither the earth holds much nor does the sky take me in. It's the house of straws on the bank of traitorous river in which I seek refuge. Holding on to the moments with a promise of eternity I lurk in gray.

Technorati Tags: conscience, heart, soul, wind, sand, earth, sky, river, promise