And now I have a big house, nice clothes and I travel in first

The words of Vincent Cassel — “And now I have a big house, nice clothes and I travel in first class and I love it, so maybe it’s time to enjoy being a star.” — resound with the honesty of a man who has labored long in his craft and has finally allowed himself to savor the fruits of his toil. For much of life is struggle, ascent, sacrifice, and delay. Many men and women achieve heights yet forget to pause, to breathe, and to rejoice in what they have gained. Cassel’s words remind us that joy, too, is part of wisdom: the ability not only to endure hardship, but to embrace blessing when it comes.

The big house, the nice clothes, the first-class travel — these are not in themselves the measure of a soul, yet they are symbols of reward for years of work, of persistence against the tide. Cassel does not speak with arrogance, but with a sense of release, as if to say: “The journey was hard, the climb was steep, but now that I have arrived, I will not deny myself the sweetness of the summit.” His statement bears an ancient truth: that the human spirit must know both labor and celebration, both the burden of the road and the festival at its end.

The ancients themselves honored this balance. The Greeks spoke of arete, excellence, and taught that the striving for greatness was noble. Yet they also celebrated their heroes with feasts, with crowns, with song. Alexander the Great wept when there were no more worlds to conquer, but in his moments of triumph, he, too, allowed himself the glory of purple robes and golden thrones. The Romans granted victorious generals a triumph through the city, not as vanity alone, but as recognition of hard-won achievement. Cassel’s words echo this tradition: the warrior-artist, after long campaigns, granting himself the freedom to enjoy his reward.

Consider also the life of Nelson Mandela. Though not a man who pursued riches, after decades of imprisonment and hardship, he allowed himself the dignity of joy when freedom was won. He danced in public, he laughed openly, and he embraced the life denied to him for so long. His lesson is the same: to refuse joy when it is given is to remain imprisoned even after the chains are broken. Cassel’s reflection is thus not a hymn to luxury, but a call to embrace the moment when it is right to celebrate.

And yet, the wisdom lies in balance. To enjoy nice clothes or a big house is not evil, but to worship them is folly. Cassel’s joy is tempered by the recognition that these are signs of his labor, not the essence of his worth. They are blessings to be enjoyed, not idols to be served. The wise man knows how to receive the good without becoming enslaved by it, how to dwell in comfort without losing humility.

The lesson for the generations is clear: when you labor, labor fully; when you endure hardship, endure with courage; and when the season of harvest comes, do not deny yourself the joy of it. Too often, men and women dwell only on what is lacking, refusing to rest in what they have gained. This robs them of gratitude, and gratitude is the true wealth of the soul. To enjoy being a star is not arrogance, but thanksgiving — a way of honoring the journey by embracing the reward.

In practice, let each listener cultivate both striving and savoring. Work with diligence toward your goals, but when success arrives, pause to rejoice. Allow yourself the small luxuries of life without shame: a fine meal shared with friends, the comfort of rest after toil, the pride of wearing what you have earned. But hold always in your heart the truth that these are gifts, not gods. Celebrate them, then return to your higher calling with renewed strength.

Thus Vincent Cassel’s words endure not as shallow praise of wealth, but as timeless counsel: that the human soul must know both the discipline of striving and the delight of enjoying. To refuse one is to live half a life; to embrace both is to live fully. And in that fullness lies not only success, but joy — the true crown of the journey.