A good question is never answered. It is not a bolt to be

John Ciardi once wrote: “A good question is never answered. It is not a bolt to be tightened into place but a seed to be planted and to bear more seed toward the hope of greening the landscape of idea.” These words, radiant and timeless, speak not merely of inquiry but of wisdom’s eternal nature. Ciardi, a poet and teacher, understood that the heart of learning is not the possession of answers but the pursuit of deeper understanding. His metaphor is a living one — the good question as a seed, sown into the fertile soil of the human mind, destined to grow and multiply into forests of thought.

A bolt can be tightened only once; its motion ends when it is fixed in place. So too does a question die when one seeks to imprison it in certainty. But a seed, once planted, lives, expands, and gives birth to new life. It is humble, small, and seemingly fragile, yet within it lies infinite potential. A good question, like a seed, does not demand immediate resolution — it asks for patience, nurture, and the courage to dwell in mystery. Ciardi reminds us that the goal of wisdom is not to close the door of inquiry, but to open countless new ones.

The ancients understood this truth well. Consider Socrates, who walked the streets of Athens not as a man of answers, but as a midwife of questions. His dialogues never ended in conclusion; they ended in awakening. “I know that I know nothing,” he declared — and in that humble admission, he gave birth to the entire tradition of Western philosophy. His questions — What is justice? What is virtue? What is the good life? — continue to echo through centuries, still unanswered, yet ever more alive. For these are not bolts to fasten; they are seeds that have become forests, nourishing every generation of thinkers since his time.

But this wisdom is not for philosophers alone. It belongs also to artists, inventors, dreamers, and even to the ordinary soul who dares to ask “Why?” in a world content with “Because.” When Galileo lifted his eyes to the heavens and asked why the stars moved as they did, he planted a seed that grew into the vast tree of modern science. The answers he found were not ends, but beginnings — each discovery birthed ten new questions. The landscape of human thought greens because of such men and women who ask not to finish the story, but to keep it unfolding.

Yet in our age of haste, men often fear the open question. They seek closure, convenience, and certainty. They want knowledge like coins to be counted, not gardens to be tended. But wisdom, Ciardi reminds us, does not bloom in impatience. A good question must be lived with, carried like a flame through the dark, illuminating not all at once, but little by little, as the traveler learns the road by walking it. It is in that journey — not the arrival — that understanding is born.

So let this teaching sink into the heart: do not rush to end your questions. Cherish them. Let them breathe, let them grow wild, let them lead you to places unseen. Ask not merely “What is true?” but “What might become true if I dare to wonder?” For the mind that questions deeply is the mind that remains alive, ever young, ever fertile. Answers harden; questions blossom. And in their blossoms lies the renewal of human thought.

In your own life, plant such questions as seeds. Ask yourself not only “What must I do?” but “Why do I do it?” Not only “What do I know?” but “How do I know it?” Speak to others not as one who has finished thinking, but as one who invites them to think anew. Teach your children not the final word, but the first question. Then, and only then, will the landscape of idea grow green again — rich with the living harvest of wonder.

For in the end, the good question is not answered; it is lived. It grows roots in your silence, branches in your actions, and fruit in the lives it touches. It is the unseen hand that guides humanity forward — from darkness to dawn, from ignorance to insight. So ask bravely, nurture curiosity, and plant your questions well — for from them will spring the eternal garden of wisdom that no age can wither.