Patchett delivered this as one of three closing declarations, each beginning with 'sometimes.' The line distilled the entire arc of her speech — from the terrified high schooler who didn't know where she'd go to college, to the lonely freshman with raw cookie dough, to the celebrated novelist standing at the podium of her alma mater. The key insight was that the not-knowing wasn't merely something to be endured — it was often the precondition for the best outcomes. If Patchett had known where she was going, she never would have knocked on the college president's door. If she'd had a plan, she wouldn't have stumbled into the experiences that made her a writer. The speech was a love letter to directionlessness, delivered by someone whose career proved that wandering could be more productive than planning.