Boundless questions

Kei, the hitherto unknown philosopher and theologian (aged 5), asked me, the old man who knew everything, a question:

How did God make the world?

He genuinely did not know. He also suspected that I did not know either.

It was a cry into the darkness really.

Freddie (aged 4):

Why can't I see God?

Here are some other boundless questions:

To be or not to be, that is the question.

Are you lonesome tonight?

(Like me. Or are you out at a lively party?)

Tiger tiger burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Who knows? What indeed!

Lovers adore the aporia.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

How do you do what you do to me?

Can this be love?

Theologians love the aporia.

We must ask ourselves whether we have not often been deceiving ourselves with our confession of sin to God; whether we have not rather been confessing our sins to ourselves and also granting ourselves absolution. (Dietriech Bonhoeffer, Life Together)

Where was God when I needed him?

Philosophers love the aporia:

What is happiness? (Friedrich Nietzsche)

The problem is banging on.

Most people bang on about climate change, feminism, their own particular political tribe, their own particular football team...

Why not use aphoria?

Here are just three examples of softening the statement into that killer question which actually involves the other people (hat tip – La Rochefoucauld)

Which of these three alternatives is better for the audience?

Evil has its heroes as well as good.
 

Doesn't evil have its heroes as well as good?

Changes or taste are as usual as changes of inclination are unusual.
Do you think that changes of taste are as usual as changes of inclination are unusual?

Solemnity is a mystery of the body devised to conceal flaws of the mind.
I wonder if solemnity of the body has been devised simply to conceal flaws of the mind?

True eloquence, after all, consists of saying all that is required and only what is required.