I don't claim to know everything. I claim to be a seeker of

The words of Marie Osmond—“I don’t claim to know everything. I claim to be a seeker of knowledge.”—echo like the wisdom of the ancients, for they carry within them humility, courage, and the eternal hunger of the human spirit. In these words, she strips away the illusion of certainty and embraces instead the noble path of the learner. To claim omniscience is to shut the gates of growth; to confess ignorance is to open wide the doors of discovery. Her words remind us that wisdom is not the hoarding of answers, but the endless pursuit of deeper truth.

To be a seeker of knowledge is to walk the road of Socrates, who declared, “I know that I know nothing.” It is to stand before the vast ocean of existence, cup in hand, and say, “I will drink as much as I can, though I know the sea has no end.” This is no weakness, but the highest form of strength. For the arrogant may boast of what they know, but their cup soon runs dry; the seeker, humble and hungry, will continue to drink, and in time will surpass them.

The ancients tell us of Pythagoras, who demanded of his students silence for years before they could speak, so that they might learn to listen and absorb. His teaching was this: those who believe they already know cannot hear new truths, but those who call themselves seekers are like fertile soil, ever ready for seed. Osmond’s confession belongs to this lineage of wisdom: she does not crown herself with false mastery, but bows her head in humility so that she may rise in true understanding.

Consider also the story of Leonardo da Vinci, whose restless curiosity knew no bounds. He was a painter, engineer, scientist, dreamer of flying machines. He did not claim mastery of one art alone but remained forever a seeker, filling page upon page with sketches and questions. To his last days, he lamented that he had only scratched the surface of creation. And yet, it was precisely this humility—this refusal to say, “I know enough”—that made him one of the greatest minds in history.

The teaching here is clear: the one who claims to know everything has already ceased to grow, but the one who admits they are still learning will grow without end. To be a seeker of knowledge is to accept the journey, not the destination; the quest, not the trophy. This is a truth for scholars and artisans, leaders and servants alike. The open mind is the wellspring of all progress, and the humble heart the soil in which wisdom blooms.

So what must you, O listener, carry away? First, embrace humility: when confronted with the unknown, do not shrink or boast, but confess freely, “I do not know, but I will learn.” Second, practice curiosity: read widely, listen deeply, ask questions not only of books but of people, of nature, of silence itself. Third, cultivate perseverance: knowledge is not granted in an instant, but in layers, through struggle and patience.

Thus, let the words of Marie Osmond be a lantern upon your path. Do not burden yourself with the false crown of certainty, but wear instead the pilgrim’s cloak of the learner. For the seeker of knowledge is never poor, never empty, never finished; they are ever on the road, and the road itself becomes their treasure. Walk it with courage, and you will find that wisdom will meet you along the way, not as a final prize, but as a companion on the endless journey.