A propensity to hope and joy is real riches; one to fear and

Hear now, seekers of wisdom, the voice of David Hume, philosopher of clarity and reason, whose insight pierces through the illusions of wealth and status. He said: “A propensity to hope and joy is real riches; one to fear and sorrow real poverty.” In these words lies not mere philosophy, but the distilled wisdom of the ages — a truth that binds the fate of kings and beggars alike. For Hume teaches that the treasures of the heart outweigh the treasures of the earth, and that true wealth is not counted in gold, but in the temper of the soul.

In the world of men, many chase after riches that glitter and fade — coins, lands, titles, and the fleeting praises of others. Yet what good are these to the man whose spirit is ruled by fear, or whose days are filled with sorrow? Such a one may sleep upon silk but dream of dread, may dine upon silver but taste only bitterness. Hume, in his quiet and rational way, reminds us that the wealth of a person lies not in their possessions but in their disposition — in the ability to hope, to rejoice, and to find light even in the shadows of life.

Think of Epictetus, the stoic slave who, though bound by chains, declared himself free. His master could command his body, but never his spirit. He taught that no man is poor who possesses contentment, and no man rich who is enslaved to fear. Thus Hume’s words echo that ancient truth: the man of hope walks in abundance even when the world denies him comfort, while the man of sorrow dwells in poverty even beneath a crown. The measure of our fortune, then, is not our circumstance, but our state of mind.

This truth has revealed itself again and again through history. Consider Anne Frank, a child hidden from tyranny, whose brief and shining life burned with hope amid the deepest darkness. While the world outside her attic burned with hatred, she wrote of beauty, of dreams, of the goodness she still believed in. Though her life was short and filled with peril, her joyful heart made her spirit wealthy beyond measure. Through her, we see that hope is the gold of the soul — it enriches not only the one who holds it but all who glimpse its light.

But Hume’s wisdom is not born of naivety. He knew that fear and sorrow are inevitable companions in the journey of life. Yet he saw that when these become our rulers, they impoverish us utterly. The fearful man cannot see beyond his shadow; the sorrowful man cannot taste the sweetness of the present moment. Thus, to cultivate hope and joy is not to deny suffering, but to transcend it — to turn pain into understanding and despair into courage. This is the alchemy of the spirit, by which the poor in circumstance may become rich in soul.

So let this teaching settle deep within you: Guard the gates of your mind. Do not let fear make its home there, nor sorrow plant its roots. Nurture instead the seeds of hope — through gratitude, through compassion, through wonder at the small miracles that greet you each day. When your heart begins to despair, remember that joy is not found in the world’s perfection, but in your perception of it. The wise learn to see beauty even in impermanence, to find light even in grief.

Therefore, O traveler of the living path, strive to cultivate hope as your inheritance, and joy as your daily bread. Let not fear steal your peace, nor sorrow your purpose. The storms will come, but the rich in spirit will not be swept away, for they have built their house upon the rock of gratitude. Hume’s words call us not merely to think, but to live — to choose inner abundance over outer accumulation, and to remember that the heart, once filled with light, has wealth enough for eternity.

For in the end, when all gold has tarnished and all monuments have fallen, the only true measure of a life will be this: did you hope when others despaired? Did you rejoice even when the world was dark? If so, then you were among the richest of all, and your legacy will endure long after the echoes of fear have faded from the earth.