We know hardly anything about anything.

Our knowledge is a little island in a great ocean of nonknowledge.

However closely we live together, at whatever time of day or night we sound the deepest thoughts in one another, we know nothing.

We know so very little about this strange planet we live on, this haunted world where all answers lead only to more mystery.

Void, not because there’s nothing there, but because our mind has no idea of it.

There is no meaning to space that is independent of the relationships among real things of the world. ...Space is nothing apart from the things that exist. ...If we take out all the words we are not left with an empty sentence, we are left with nothing.

Because we do not have a sensory organ dedicated to space, the representation of space is a quintessentially cognitive sensibility: it is the binding problem writ large.

After a vast research program, which depended very heavily upon the use of a number of highspeed computers, I am pleased to offer you the result: "Space is that in which everything else is." In other words, "Space is the hole that we are in."

We don't know much about our current selves, do we?

Death in itself is nothing; but we fear
To be we know not what, we know not where.

We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing, unheard and not hearing, unknown by others.

We can see nothing face to face; our utmost seeing is but a fumbling of blind finger-ends in an overcrowded pocket.

All we can know is that we know nothing. And that's the height of human wisdom.

Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.