Early in the morning, I fell in love with the girl that later on

Hear, O children of memory and seekers of truth, the words of Shimon Peres, who bore the weight of nations and yet spoke with the tenderness of a youth in love: “Early in the morning, I fell in love with the girl that later on became my wife. At that time, we were so naive. I wanted to charm her, so I read her Capital by Marx. I thought somehow she would be convinced by the strength of his criticism about capital.” At first, it seems a tale light-hearted, a youthful folly told in jest. But beneath it lies the eternal dance of love and ideals, the mingling of the tender heart and the burning mind, the longing of one soul to reach another through words, ideas, and dreams.

Behold the scene: it is dawn, the hour of beginnings, when the world still blushes with innocence. A young man, stirred by the fire of affection, seeks to bind the heart of his beloved not only through flowers or glances, but through the weapons of thought. He turns to Marx, to the great text of rebellion and critique, believing that the fire of intellect could win where charm alone might falter. This was the mark of youth—naivety, yes, but also purity of spirit. For in that innocence lay the belief that ideas shape hearts as much as they shape nations.

Thus, Peres reveals a hidden truth: love and conviction are kin. Both arise from the soul’s hunger for union—whether with another person, or with a vision of justice, or with the dream of a better world. To read to his beloved from Capital was to say: “Here, take not only my heart, but also my mind, my struggles, my questions, my hope for humanity.” It was not the sweetness of roses but the daring of ideals that he offered her. And though clumsy, though naïve, it was a gesture noble, for it sought to bind two destinies in both passion and purpose.

Consider the tale of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, two lovers bound not merely by desire but by philosophy. They shared not only life but thought, their love a dialogue between minds as much as between hearts. They quarreled, they wrote, they dreamed of freedom together. Their romance was not of shallow pleasures, but of shared convictions that echoed through generations. Peres, in his youthful attempt, stood in the same current—that belief that to love deeply is to share not just laughter and tenderness, but also the burden of ideas.

Yet, O listeners, we must not mistake innocence for folly alone. There is beauty in this naivety, for it is the kindling of great fires. In youth, we believe that ideas can conquer all—that a single book, a single word, a single kiss can reshape the world. And though age tempers this belief, let us not lose it entirely. For it is the same spirit that moves revolutions, that builds nations, that writes poems and symphonies. Without it, life becomes stale, and love becomes hollow.

Learn, then, this lesson: when you love, love with your whole being. Do not offer only the surface of yourself. Share your dreams, your convictions, your questions, even your uncertainties. To charm another with masks is fleeting, but to stand before them with both your strengths and your naïveté is to invite them into your truest self. And if they accept, then the union will be strong, for it is built not only on desire, but on shared humanity.

Practical is this counsel: when you seek to win another’s heart, do not hide the fire that burns within you. Speak of the books that stirred your soul, the causes that keep you awake at night, the visions that lift your spirit. Yes, share your laughter, but also your ideals. In this way, you build love that is not only tender, but enduring, a companionship that walks with you through both the gardens of joy and the storms of history.

Therefore remember: the tale of Shimon Peres is more than youthful humor. It is a parable that even the greatest of leaders was once a young lover, fumbling with words, believing that the strength of ideas could charm a heart. And perhaps, in some mysterious way, it did. For love is not won by roses alone, nor by arguments alone, but by the courage to give oneself completely—mind, heart, and soul.