A philosopher went into a closet for ten years to contemplate the question,
What is life? When he came out, he went into the street
and met an old colleague, who asked him where in heaven's name he
had been all those years."In a closet," he repied.
"I wanted to know what life really is."
"And have you found an answer?"
"Yes," he replied. "I think it can best be expressed by saying

that life is like a bridge."
"That's all well and good," replied the colleage,
"but can you be a little more explicit?
Can you tell me how life is like abridge?"
"Oh," replied the philosopher after somethought,
"maybe you'reright; perhaps life is not like a bridge."