In Fantasy, it is often remarked that wise-ards speak in incalculable riddles. Often the layman will try and seek answers from the Oracle at Delphi, but the bizarre puzzle-like form that their response takes tends to bewilder, rather than inform.
But why? Would not some advanced intelligence possess at once both the ability to perceive the world of the beyond, as well as the ability to simplify and communicate to such lesser beings? Perhaps it should be obvious that a truly advanced being should have even more capacity for such summarization, like how the truly best professors and scientists are those who can cover the whole range of their topic, and explain it to a freshman class alongside a post-doctoral group.
I tend to imagine two possibilities:
One, that the truths known by whatever magical or heightened being are of a kind wholly alien to our native mode of understanding. If a man with intuitive knowledge of the non-directionality of time, say for example one Dr. Manhattan, tries to reason with his natural counterparts, he simply cannot fathom how he would undertake it. If Gandalf the gray has seen a thousand years, how can he explain what that is like to a mere child of forty?
The second possibility, which is also sort of explored in Watchmen, is that the high-minded pursuits a learned fellow engages in tends to isolate them from the rest of humanity. So much so, that they might grow raving mad, or follow inhumane methods, or just simply look from afar at the affairs of man, with not a bit of melancholy (or malice) at their distance from their native race.
Even in small capacities, this second hypothesis seems obviously true. Once you have spent months and years working at some problem, you are an expert on it. None will be able to truly understand your new understanding, even if you communicate very carefully.
It is the nature of deep work to heighten one’s understanding. But to heighten one’s understanding is to isolate, and perhaps that should not be taken lightly.