A wise woman never yields by appointment. It should always be an

The words of Stendhal, “A wise woman never yields by appointment. It should always be an unforeseen happiness,” are born from the mind of a man who studied not only love, but the human soul itself. In this brief and delicate phrase lies a profound meditation on wisdom, passion, and the mystery of affection. Stendhal, the French author who explored the labyrinth of emotion in The Red and the Black and On Love, reminds us that the truest moments of the heart cannot be scheduled or contrived. For love that is planned loses its innocence, and surrender that is foreseen loses its beauty. The wise woman, he says, knows that the magic of affection lies in its spontaneity—its ability to arise like a dawn that no one commanded, yet that everyone feels as a gift.

To understand Stendhal’s words, one must see beyond their surface of romance and into their philosophy. The yielding he speaks of is not merely the surrender of the body, but the opening of the soul. In every age, men and women have mistaken control for wisdom and passion for weakness. Yet Stendhal knew that wisdom is not the absence of passion, but the mastery of it. The wise woman does not yield out of obligation, nor from calculation; she gives when the heart overflows, when trust has ripened like fruit, and when surrender becomes an act of joy rather than submission. Her gift is unforeseen happiness—a love so natural and unforced that it awakens the divine within both giver and receiver.

In the courts and salons of Stendhal’s France, affection was often a matter of convenience, of power, of strategy. Marriages were arranged, trysts were scheduled, and love became another performance in the theater of society. Against this backdrop, Stendhal wrote as a rebel of the heart. He believed that love must remain free, that its beauty lies in the unexpected moment—the glance that lingers too long, the word that breaks a wall of restraint, the laughter that suddenly reveals two souls are one. When love becomes appointment, it ceases to be alive; when it remains spontaneous, it becomes sacred. Thus, the wise woman guards not her affection itself, but the purity of its timing—knowing that love’s greatest power lies in its surprise.

Consider the story of Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, whose allure captured both Julius Caesar and Mark Antony. She was intelligent, charismatic, and shrewd beyond measure, yet her greatest power was not in seduction but in timing. She never offered herself by decree; her presence was always unexpected, her gestures always natural. When Caesar first met her—smuggled into his chambers rolled in a rug—it was not her beauty alone that conquered him, but the daring spontaneity of the act. Cleopatra understood, as Stendhal did, that the heart must never feel forced. Unforeseen happiness—that is the alchemy that turns encounter into destiny.

There is a deeper lesson here, beyond the language of romance. The quote speaks not only to love between two people, but to the nature of all human joy. True happiness, like true love, resists scheduling. It visits when we least expect it—on a quiet evening, in a sudden conversation, in the unnoticed kindness of a friend. The wise soul learns not to demand joy but to prepare for it: to live attentively, gratefully, ready to recognize it when it comes. For in seeking to control the timing of happiness, we often strangle it before it blooms.

In a world that measures everything—time, success, affection—Stendhal’s words stand as a reminder that the greatest things cannot be measured. Love, art, friendship, joy—these are not born of planning, but of presence. The wise woman, then, is not merely cautious; she is awake. She knows that life’s finest gifts must come as surprise, that too much expectation kills wonder. She does not harden her heart, but she keeps it sacred—open to love, but not desperate for it; ready for joy, but not demanding of it.

So, dear listener, take this wisdom to heart: do not live your days as appointments with destiny. Let love, friendship, and happiness find you in their own hour. Do not rush what must ripen, nor command what must come freely. Prepare your soul with patience, with dignity, with gentleness—and when unforeseen happiness arrives, receive it with both hands, as one who welcomes sunlight after rain.

For the wise, as Stendhal teaches, do not chase joy—they cultivate the stillness in which joy appears. And when it comes, they yield not by arrangement, but by grace. That is the secret of the wise woman, and indeed, of every wise heart: to live so fully, so honestly, that every blessing feels like a surprise, and every moment of love becomes an eternal gift.