The wise welcome confusion as a bridge to understanding.

From Alfred’s journal

Switch spent the better part of the afternoon trying to get into the feeder on the Hollis porch, and every failure taught him the shape of the thing. He hung upside down, he fell, he tried the pole, he fell again. I used to think I ought to arrive at a page already knowing what it would say, and for years I threw out every draft that confused me, which is to say I threw out all the good ones. The wise welcome confusion as a bridge to understanding, though I did not know that at thirty and would have argued with anyone who said it. By dusk he had the knack of the lid and ate like he had invented the idea. What I cannot decide is whether he learned the feeder or learned falling.