Over many years, my knowledge has grown to where I have never been more cleverer. It’s lovely. However, I often forget stuff and forgetting stuff is knowledge tumbling out of a brain, rather than being squished inside it. If I cannot gather up my forgetfulness and measure it, how can I possibly know my cleverestness? I fear they are both lost and forever unknown to me or anyone else. What is the nature of knowledge? Is it light and wispy like a cloud? From a distance, it appears solid, but when you examine it up close, is there anything to grab hold of? Maybe there is a kind of knowledge in absolute ignorance. Maybe learning hides the terrifying truth of overwhelming complexity and inevitable uncertainty. Books are like whiskey. Facts are like cigarettes. Qualifications are comfort blankets. Learning is our form of escape. Our stupidity is confidence. Our mentor is fear. Discuss.