Certainly there are things in life that money can't buy, but it's

“Certainly there are things in life that money can’t buy, but it’s very funny—did you ever try buying them without money?” Thus spoke Ogden Nash, the poet of wit and wisdom, whose laughter hid the sharpness of truth. In these lines, he weaves humor with irony, exposing a paradox as old as civilization itself: that though we proclaim money powerless before love, virtue, and joy, we live in a world where its shadow still governs every choice. Beneath his jest lies the gentle sting of reality—the recognition that ideals and necessities are often at war, and that to live among men is to navigate between what is pure and what is practical.

When Nash calls it “funny,” he does not mean amusing in the shallow sense, but ironic, even tragic. For humanity has always sought to rise above material need, to claim that the greatest treasures—love, friendship, honor, and peace—exist beyond price. Yet how swiftly those same treasures wither when poverty presses upon them. The poet’s laughter is a philosopher’s sigh. He does not mock the dream of spiritual wealth, but he reminds us that we are creatures of flesh before we are angels of soul. Before one can contemplate the beauty of the stars, one must first light the fire that keeps the body warm.

The origin of this quote lies in Nash’s lifelong art of truth through irony. Living through the tumultuous first half of the twentieth century, he witnessed both the extravagance of wealth and the despair of the Great Depression. From that age of contrast came his keen observation: that those who preach the worthlessness of money often do so only after they possess enough to forget its power. Nash’s humor thus becomes both shield and sword—a way to reveal human contradiction without bitterness. His laughter is not cruel; it is compassionate, for it sees that folly is universal.

History, too, offers echoes of Nash’s wisdom. The ancient philosopher Diogenes, who lived in poverty and mocked materialism, still relied upon the generosity of those with coin to survive. Even he, who rejected possessions, needed bread and a place to rest. And the mighty Marcus Aurelius, emperor and Stoic, wrote that wealth is indifferent to virtue—yet he ruled an empire that depended on its treasury for order and peace. From beggar to emperor, all have faced the truth Nash clothes in wit: that the spirit may transcend gold, but life in this world cannot do without it entirely.

Yet Nash’s insight is not cynicism—it is balance. He does not tell us to worship money, but to respect its necessity. The wise do not despise what sustains them. To declare money evil is as foolish as to declare it holy. It is a tool—one that can build or destroy, bless or corrupt, depending on the heart that wields it. What Nash exposes is the hypocrisy of those who speak as though virtue alone can fill the stomach or heal the sick. He laughs to remind us that practical wisdom must walk beside idealism if we are to live well.

In truth, money itself is only a symbol—an agreement between souls about value. The deeper danger lies not in the coins or bills, but in the illusion that they alone define worth. Nash’s humor allows us to hold both realities at once: to admit that we need money to live, yet to remember that the things most worth living for—love, trust, kindness—begin where money’s power ends. His laughter thus bridges the material and the spiritual, teaching that both must coexist for life to flourish.

So, dear listener, learn from this paradox. Do not scorn wealth, nor worship it. Earn what you need, but never mistake possession for fulfillment. Seek first the riches of the heart, but remember to build the means that sustain them. A hungry poet cannot sing; a cold child cannot dream. Be both the dreamer and the builder, the idealist and the realist.

For as Ogden Nash reminds us, it is easy to say that money cannot buy happiness—but only those with bread on their table can afford to say so with laughter. His wit is a mirror: it asks us not to choose between spirit and substance, but to unite them in harmony. And when you find yourself judging another for their struggle with wealth, pause and smile—for life, as Nash knew, is funny indeed, and even wisdom must sometimes laugh at itself.