Why

A tiny but dignified old lady was among a group looking at an art exhibition in a newly opened gallery. One modern painting caught her eye. "What on earth," she inquired of the artist standing nearby, "is that?"
He smiled condescendingly. "That, my dear lady, is supposed to be a mother and her child."
"Well, then," snapped the little old lady, "why isn't it?"

Ebony and Ivory live together in perfect harmony
Side by side on my piano keyboard, Oh Lord why don't we?

Even if it turns out that time travel is impossible, it is important that we understand why it is impossible.

Every why has a wherefore.

God in His wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.

I am just a child who has never grown up. I still keep asking these 'how' and 'why' questions. Occasionally, I find an answer.

I say, if any misanthrope were to put, in my presence, the question 'Why were we born?' I should reply, 'To make an effort'

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed?

If the full moon loves you, why worry about the stars?

If you can talk about it, why paint it?

When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours.

Why are there goals and desires?

Why are we here? Where do we come from? Traditionally, these are questions for philosophy, but philosophy is dead.

Why be anything other than good? Why do anything other than love?

Why is art beautiful? Because it's useless. Why is life ugly? Because it's all ends and purposes and intentions.

Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?

Why should poetry have to make sense?