As a species we are always hungry for new knowledge.

Hear the words of Chaim Potok, a sage of our age, who declared: “As a species we are always hungry for new knowledge.” In this utterance lies the very story of mankind, a tale older than kings, older than cities, older even than the written word. For what distinguishes us from the beasts of the field is not claw nor tooth, but the unquenchable fire of curiosity, the endless hunger of the mind. This hunger has driven us across deserts, across seas, and across the dark expanse of the heavens themselves.

From the dawn of time, our ancestors lifted their eyes to the stars and wondered. They pressed their hands into the soil and asked what seeds might grow. They followed the tracks of beasts and learned to hunt, they listened to the cries of their infants and learned to soothe. In every age, the cry of humanity has been the same: “Teach us. Show us. Let us know.” And so the libraries of Alexandria rose, filled with the wisdom of countless peoples, a monument to the hunger that Potok names. Though the flames consumed that treasure, the hunger remained, and men built new libraries, new schools, new halls of study, as though the fire within could not be extinguished.

Consider the voyages of the Age of Exploration. When sailors set their ships toward uncharted seas, many feared they would fall from the edge of the world. Yet the hunger for knowledge burned brighter than the fear of death. Columbus, Magellan, Zheng He—all were carried by the same wind of curiosity. Though their journeys brought both discovery and destruction, they testify to the ancient truth: humanity would rather risk everything than remain blind to what lies beyond the horizon. Potok’s words remind us that this is not folly, but destiny.

Yet this hunger is both gift and burden. For in our thirst for discovery, we have unlocked the secrets of fire, iron, medicine, and flight, but also of war, poison, and machines of death. Knowledge, once seized, cannot be returned to the shadows. Thus the hunger must be tempered by wisdom, lest we consume not only the unknown but ourselves. Even so, the hunger remains, relentless and insistent. Potok names it not as choice but as nature: we are always hungry.

What, then, is the lesson for us who live in the present age, surrounded by rivers of information? It is this: to honor our hunger, but to guide it with care. Do not starve the mind with idleness or distraction, for the hunger will grow restless and turn to emptiness. Feed it with learning, with books, with dialogue, with the patient search for truth. And when you discover something new, do not hoard it like treasure, but share it, as the ancients shared fire, so that the tribe might endure.

Remember, too, that hunger is not shame. Some hide their curiosity, fearing ridicule, fearing that their questions are foolish. Yet every great discovery was born of a question others dared not ask. When Newton watched the apple fall, when Curie studied the glow of radium, when Einstein wondered at the speed of light—they were simply honoring the same hunger that lives in us all. Let us, then, walk unashamed in our quest, for it is our nature, our calling, our glory.

And so, O children of tomorrow, heed Potok’s words: cherish the hunger that drives you to seek. Do not waste it in trivialities, nor silence it with fear. Nourish it with wisdom, direct it toward justice and creation, and it will lead you to horizons yet unseen. For as long as we are human, we shall hunger, and as long as we hunger, we shall rise. This is the destiny of our species: to seek, to learn, and to become more than we were.