For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of

Hear the trembling yet eternal words of Vincent van Gogh, painter of light and shadow, who declared: “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” In this confession, he reveals the essence of his soul: humble before the mysteries of knowledge, yet exalted by the power of wonder. Van Gogh did not claim mastery of truth, nor the certainty of philosophers and scientists; but in the silent fire of the heavens, in the unyielding majesty of the stars, he found visions that lifted his spirit beyond despair.

The stars for Van Gogh were not only distant suns scattered in the void; they were messengers of hope, symbols of eternity shining over the fleeting struggles of mortal life. Though he confessed ignorance, he was not diminished. For the man who admits he knows nothing may still be the man who dreams, and sometimes, dreaming is greater than knowing. His painting Starry Night is not a map of the sky, but the living image of his inner vision: a world aflame with mystery, where swirling heavens echo the turbulence of the heart.

The ancients also turned their gaze upward in awe. The Babylonians charted the skies, the Egyptians built monuments aligned with the stars, and the Greeks wove myths into constellations. Yet all their efforts to explain the heavens did not extinguish their wonder; indeed, it was their dreams that guided them to build, to measure, to imagine. Van Gogh stood in this lineage, confessing his lack of certainty yet claiming what is greater—the capacity to be moved by the infinite. For it is not certainty that gives birth to art and vision, but the trembling joy of the unknown.

History bears witness to others who lived by this truth. Consider Galileo Galilei, who, turning his telescope toward Jupiter, saw moons orbiting the giant planet. He shattered old certainties, but what drove him was not dogma—it was the same wonder that made Van Gogh dream. Galileo admitted that the universe was more vast and mysterious than man had ever conceived. His courage to dream beyond certainty changed the course of science. Thus we see that dreams, born of awe, have the power to shape the destiny of entire civilizations.

The meaning of Van Gogh’s words is that knowledge, though noble, is never complete. We must not cling to the illusion of certainty, for it binds us. Instead, we must let wonder lead us, for in wonder lies both humility and strength. To look at the stars is to be reminded of how small we are, yet how infinite our capacity to imagine. Dreams do not answer all questions, but they keep us alive in the presence of mystery, and they inspire us to reach beyond ourselves.

The lesson is this: do not fear your ignorance. Let it open you to wonder. Knowledge will come and go, truths will shift, but the one who keeps alive the capacity to dream will never be without light. In times of despair, look up, as Van Gogh did, and find in the heavens not answers, but strength to hope. For the soul needs not only certainty—it needs beauty, and beauty is often born of mystery.

What, then, are the practical actions? Each night, take time to look at the sky. Even if veiled by clouds, remember the stars are there, eternal above you. In your studies, do not seek only certainty; allow yourself to wonder. Create—whether with words, colors, or deeds—not because you know, but because you dream. Share your wonder with others, for in awakening awe, you awaken courage. Let the stars remind you that ignorance is not the end but the beginning of vision.

Thus Van Gogh’s words endure: “I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” Carry this truth with you, O seeker. For certainty is fleeting, but dreams—like the stars themselves—endure across the ages, lighting the night of the human soul.