Drink and be thankful to the host! What seems insignificant when

Hear now the words of Franz Grillparzer, poet of Vienna, who once proclaimed: “Drink and be thankful to the host! What seems insignificant when you have it, is important when you need it.” At first, it may sound as a toast for a table, a simple call to courtesy. Yet in truth it is a teaching of profound weight, a lesson on gratitude, humility, and the fleeting value of what we too often take for granted. He speaks of the cup, of the host, of small blessings, but in these symbols lie the greater truths of life.

To drink is not only to quench thirst, but to partake in the generosity of another. The host, whether at a feast or in the trials of life, offers sustenance that is not born of obligation but of kindness. Grillparzer reminds us: do not swallow in silence, do not consume without acknowledgment. To be thankful to the host is to recognize the giver, the unseen hand that made the cup possible. In the banquet of existence, countless hosts sustain us—parents, friends, strangers, even the earth itself—and all deserve our gratitude.

The second part of his teaching pierces even deeper: “What seems insignificant when you have it, is important when you need it.” This is the ancient warning against complacency. A crust of bread, a sip of water, the roof above one’s head—while plentiful, they may seem ordinary, hardly worth a thought. Yet when famine strikes, when thirst burns, when shelter is lost, these once-dismissed gifts become treasures beyond price. The poet teaches us to honor what we hold now, lest we awaken too late to its worth.

Consider the tale of the Israelites in the desert, who once despised the manna that fell daily from heaven. It was too plain, too constant, and they longed for more. Yet when hunger struck, the same manna became their lifeline, their holy bread. So it is with all of life: what appears small in plenty becomes mighty in scarcity. Grillparzer’s words echo across time, urging us to see with clear eyes before need teaches us harshly.

There is heroism in cultivating thankfulness for the ordinary. It is easy to raise a song of praise for victories, crowns, and gold; but the truly wise give thanks for a sip of clean water, for the sheltering hand of a friend, for the daily bread. This is not weakness—it is strength of vision. For the one who honors the small will never despair when great things fail, for they know how to find riches in the simple.

The origin of this wisdom lies in the eternal cycle of abundance and lack. History itself teaches us: Rome, at the height of its power, dismissed its grain as commonplace, yet in times of famine, riots consumed the streets. Nations that once had water flowing freely built wars when droughts came. The lesson is ancient and ever renewed: honor what you have while it is present, for its absence will teach you its value.

The lesson is plain: when you drink, be mindful of the host; when you partake, be thankful for the gift. Do not wait until scarcity strips you bare to recognize the value of what you once scorned. To live with gratitude for the common is to live richly, even in modest means. The wise give thanks not only for banquets but for crumbs, not only for feasts but for the daily cup.

Practical wisdom calls you to action: today, notice the “insignificant” things around you—the glass of water, the roof, the hand extended in kindness. Give thanks for them as though you were in need, for one day you may be. And when you receive from another, pause and honor the host, for their gift—however small—sustains you. Thus Grillparzer’s words become not only a toast for the table but a law for living: be thankful always, lest you learn too late what you should have cherished when it was yours.