Always kiss your children goodnight, even if they're already

The words of H. Jackson Brown, Jr. resound with quiet thunder: “Always kiss your children goodnight, even if they’re already asleep.” At first glance, the counsel is tender and simple, a small ritual at the edge of night. Yet within it lies a teaching of eternal weight. For the kiss upon the brow is not merely a touch of lips upon skin, but the sealing of love, the vow of protection, and the transmission of comfort that echoes into the soul of the child—even when their eyes do not see it. Such gestures, though small, are the pillars upon which lifelong bonds are built.

The origin of these words is not from ancient scrolls, but from the wisdom of a father who sought to gather fragments of truth for his son. Brown, in his Life’s Little Instruction Book, gave counsel for daily living—lessons to guide a young man into wisdom. Among them, this reminder: that love is not to be delayed, nor expressions of it withheld until it is convenient. For love must be given freely, consistently, and even when it seems unnoticed. A sleeping child may not awaken at the touch of a kiss, yet the act itself shapes the heart of both giver and receiver.

Consider the story of Napoleon Bonaparte, the conqueror whose shadow stretched across Europe. It is said that he wept not for his victories, but for the absence of a mother’s tenderness in his youth. For all his power, he lamented that he never knew the nightly embrace, the gentle assurance that he was beloved. History shows us that even emperors crave what only a parent’s affection can provide. The battlefield may crown kings, but the quiet gesture of love builds human beings. Thus, the kiss goodnight, though unseen, outweighs gold and conquest.

The wisdom of this quote also reminds us of the brevity of time. Childhood is but a fleeting season, as blossoms open in spring and fade by autumn’s chill. The parent who says, “Tomorrow I will kiss them,” may find that tomorrow the child no longer seeks such comfort, or worse, tomorrow may never arrive. Each kiss is an act of seizing the present, of anchoring love into the eternal now. To kiss a child goodnight—even in sleep—is to declare: “While you rest, you are safe, you are cherished, and my love does not slumber.”

Yet the power of this ritual is not bound to parents alone. In truth, it is a lesson for all: express love when you can, even if it seems unnoticed. The soldier writing letters from the battlefield, though he does not know if they will be read, still pours out his devotion. The friend who checks on another in silence, without thanks or recognition, still keeps the lamp of loyalty burning. The great souls of history—be they saints, poets, or reformers—understood that unseen love is no less mighty than celebrated love. Indeed, it is purer, for it asks nothing in return.

Therefore, let the lesson be carved deep into the hearts of those who hear: never withhold affection. Do not wait for perfect moments, for applause, or for waking eyes. Show your love in small gestures that weave the invisible fabric of life. Kiss your children, write to your friends, embrace your beloved, speak words of kindness even when silence would suffice. Such acts are the seeds of legacy, watered by constancy, bearing fruit long after you are gone.

In practice, let each parent form the sacred habit: as the moon rises, step into the quiet chamber, look upon your sleeping child, and place the kiss of love upon their brow. Let each soul, whether parent or not, practice the daily art of love—through word, through touch, through presence. For in the end, it is not the monuments of stone that endure, but the quiet gestures of devotion that echo across generations. This is the wisdom of Brown’s counsel: to kiss, to cherish, to love—always, and without delay.