Knowledge is often ineffable. It defies definitions, shuns sharing, and escapes explanation. Knowledge lures you to discover and claim it but it has to be harnessed, and won’t yield easily.
Knowledge is in your bones, at your fingertips, and in the way you glance across the street while walking at night. Night, by the way, is the time of true knowledge. Night is also the time of the deepest, most hidden, genuine magic.
Many consider knowledge a thing of the day. Shed light upon the mysteries of the world, and other such nonsense. For sure, you can gain some information by picking out shadows with a flashlight, but you will need the silence and secrecy of the darkest hour to mull over the substance of your shadowy prey. Besides, shadows tend to come to you more eagerly themselves at night.
Knowledge is a blessing with a wardrobe of disguises. It may turn out sorrowful, absurd, infuriating, mocking, terrifying. You never truly know if you want knowledge until the moment you get it, yet once you do, there is no way back.
Having spent decades studying obscure traditions and acquiring intricate skills, reading tomes of forgotten lore and learning foreign languages, I must ascertain that all of the above is completely and irrevocably true. I won’t elaborate.