Everybody I know who is funny, it's in them. You can teach

In the luminous and heartfelt words of Carol Burnett, one of the great architects of laughter, there echoes a timeless truth about the mystery of human gift and spirit: “Everybody I know who is funny, it’s in them. You can teach timing, or some people are able to tell a joke, though I don’t like to tell jokes. But I think you have to be born with a sense of humor and a sense of timing.” Beneath her modest wisdom lies the acknowledgment of something ancient — that certain sparks of the soul are not learned but innate, woven into the fabric of one’s being from birth. For humor, as Burnett reminds us, is not merely a skill to be crafted, but a light that lives within, an instinct born of empathy, pain, perception, and joy.

The origin of this quote flows naturally from Carol Burnett’s long and storied career — a life spent bringing laughter to millions, not through cruelty or cynicism, but through warmth and humanity. As the first woman to host her own comedy variety show on national television, she broke barriers not by chasing perfection, but by being profoundly, authentically herself. Her insight into humor and timing arose not from theory, but from a lifetime of performance — from standing under the bright lights, listening to the audience’s heartbeat, and learning the sacred rhythm that connects laughter to truth. She knew, as the ancients did, that timing is not a trick of the clock, but a music of the soul, an intuition that cannot be forced.

The ancients themselves revered such gifts. In the courts of kings and empires, the jester was no fool, but a sage cloaked in laughter. He spoke truths that others dared not utter, using wit as his shield and his weapon. The Greeks called this divine spark eutrapelia — the noble gift of wit, the balance between mirth and wisdom. They understood, as Burnett does, that humor reveals the soul’s intelligence — its ability to see the world’s absurdity without despairing of it. The sense of humor, then, is a mark of understanding: to laugh is to comprehend life’s imperfection and to forgive it.

Consider the story of Lucian of Samosata, a satirist of the ancient world. With words sharper than swords, he mocked the follies of gods and men, yet his laughter was never cruel. It was the laughter of one who understood — who saw that the human condition, with all its pride and error, was still worthy of affection. Like Burnett, Lucian did not simply “tell jokes”; he revealed truth through laughter. Both remind us that real humor arises not from cleverness alone, but from insight and compassion. For one may be taught to repeat a punchline, but not to see the world with the eyes of mercy and mirth.

Carol Burnett also speaks of timing, that mysterious rhythm of comedy that separates the merely amusing from the truly transcendent. Timing, in its deepest sense, is the art of listening to life itself — knowing when to speak and when to pause, when to laugh and when to hold silence. It is the pulse of understanding, a harmony between mind, body, and heart. Even the ancients who studied rhetoric — Aristotle, Cicero, Demosthenes — knew that timing was not calculation, but intuition. A moment too soon and truth slips away; a moment too late and its fire is lost. The one who possesses timing walks in step with destiny.

Yet Burnett’s humility teaches us something greater still: that such gifts are not the privilege of the few, but the birthright of authenticity. To be funny, to have that rhythm of the heart, is to be deeply alive — to observe, to feel, to empathize, and to share those feelings freely. Those “born with it,” as she says, are simply those who have remained connected to their true selves. For every child begins with laughter, every heart is born with humor. It is only the weight of fear, pride, or sorrow that buries it. The true art, then, is not to learn humor, but to remember it.

So, my child of tomorrow, heed this ancient truth: gifts are given, but wisdom awakens them. You may not be born with Carol Burnett’s laughter, but you can cultivate her spirit. Learn to see the world with kindness, for humor without compassion is mockery, and timing without soul is noise. Observe the rhythm of life around you — the pauses, the ironies, the beauty in imperfection — and let your laughter rise not from judgment, but from understanding. For laughter, when pure, is not just sound — it is healing. It binds strangers, dissolves pain, and reminds us that we are, all of us, still learning to dance with the absurd.

And remember, as Burnett teaches: to be funny is to be brave. It is to reveal one’s heart openly before the world, to turn vulnerability into connection. The sense of humor she speaks of is no small gift — it is the wisdom of survival, the courage to keep laughing when tears are near. Cultivate that, and you will not only understand humor, but the very rhythm of life itself — where sorrow and joy meet, and where, in that fleeting instant of laughter, eternity smiles back.