A question can be a fragile thing. A shy, first-step-out-of-shelter-and-into-the-meadow thing. A troubled, I-don’t-want-to-look-stupid-but-I-want-to-know sort of a thing. A query that slipped out when the mind’s gate was only open a hairsbreadth. A rogue furrowing of the brow in an unguarded face.
And when the question is a delicate one, you have to be quick to answer, or the question will slip away. You can’t be too forceful. Sometimes you have to pretend that you aren’t surprised that the question has appeared at all. That this question at this time is the most natural of all things; exactly what was wanted; yes, of course, how interesting. We should think about that without delay. Because a question, answered immediately and in kind, will live and grow and venture out again.
There are no answers without questions. No real answers without real questions. No new answers without new questions. The insistent inquisitive may be easier to see, but wild, timid wondering, coaxed from the shadows, may one day lead us to discovery.