Critical and analytical thinking are yet to provide me answers. This fact, amid a searing epistemelogical yearning, leaves me dying a slow death. It is the death of knowledge.
But non sequitur you must say; surely critical analysis is the pathway to knowledge, and to this I concord not, yet as you soon note, I offer no alternative.

I should be a scientist or a religionist. Both, though they employ differing language and differing ways of thinking about the world, do empower the individual with an epistemelogical methodology that favor the hopeful. And yes, I am full of hope, or atleast, I am full of a desire to possess hope.

Why then the discontent for either? Why must I ever run from science or religion? Is it simply because of their innability to "prove the first proof"? Why must I be so concerned with that first proof? Without it, it seems as if I am building my house upon the sand.

Dam this heroic quest for its perpetual and epic scope. It is nothing more than that. If I embrace answers, then by necessity the search for knowledge and the quest to prove the first proof must end. Is that the real reason behind my discontent for answers? What a fool I will feel, if someday, it is revealed to me that this was the case. That I cast away angelic music for my disbelief; not disbelief of angels, but of their ability to play.