I was on the train to work this morning and these thoughts occured to me:
Why do we know our world around us so well? - the weight of air, the distance between the stars, the calculations of things that are larger than life and smallest to the miniscule detail.
If we were so smart to have learnt and to understand the world around us, yet why aren't we able to grasp what's inside of us? Why are we not able to understand the reason for the existence of this soul of ours, why we laugh with joy, cry with despair and love like there was no tomorrow?
If happiness is what we make out of it, then I dare say that none of us are happy at all, though we try so hard to make ourselves happy. Aren't we always in need of something more? Aren't we always wishing we had more because we thought that it would make us momentarily happy?
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