First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity.

“First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity.” – George Bernard Shaw

Thus spoke George Bernard Shaw, the sharp-tongued philosopher of wit and wisdom, who saw through the illusions of human passion yet cherished its beauty all the same. In this clever and piercing reflection, he speaks of first love — that great awakening of the heart which feels eternal at its birth, but fleeting in its end. Shaw reminds us that the love of youth is not yet deep wisdom, but a dance between foolishness and curiosity. It is the heart’s first experiment, the spirit’s first adventure into the unknown. And though it may be naïve, it is also sacred — for it is through that very foolishness that we first learn what it means to feel.

When Shaw calls it “a little foolishness,” he does not mock love; rather, he celebrates the innocence of those who dare to feel it. The first love knows nothing of caution, nothing of consequence. It rushes forward like springtime, overflowing with wonder and urgency. The young heart believes itself immortal; it loves without hesitation, as though passion alone can rewrite the laws of the world. Yet such love is fragile, for it is untested — it lives in dreams rather than in deeds. Its foolishness lies not in its sincerity, but in its unawareness of what love demands: patience, endurance, and understanding.

But Shaw’s wisdom deepens when he adds that first love is also “a lot of curiosity.” For love, in its beginning, is an act of discovery — a voyage into the mystery of another soul, and into the mystery of ourselves. Curiosity drives us to explore what it means to care for someone, to be seen, to be vulnerable. The young lover is not only enchanted by the beloved, but by the feeling of love itself. It is as though the heart, long asleep, has woken for the first time and wishes to know the world anew. In this way, curiosity is the flame that ignites the foolishness — and together, they create the fire of youth.

The origin of this insight can be found in Shaw’s life and worldview. Known for his skepticism and irony, he often exposed the illusions of romance in his plays and essays. Yet behind his wit lay compassion. He understood that human beings must pass through the folly of first love to arrive at mature affection. Like an artist’s first sketch or a musician’s first song, the first love is not perfect — but it is necessary. It is the heart’s first attempt to speak the language of the soul. And though it may end in tears, it leaves behind wisdom no book can teach.

The ancients knew this truth well. Plato taught that love begins with the sight of beauty — a fleeting spark that awakens longing. Yet he warned that this first vision is only the beginning of the journey, not its end. Dante, too, found in his youthful love for Beatrice a flame that burned beyond the mortal world. Though he barely knew her, that early passion guided his soul toward divine understanding. What began as curiosity became transformation. Thus, the first love — however foolish — is the soul’s first lesson in the sacred art of longing.

Consider, too, the story of Napoleon Bonaparte and his first love, Désirée Clary. Before he became emperor, he was a young, ambitious soldier, drawn not by power but by the tenderness of affection. His letters to her overflowed with emotion and idealism — the hallmark of youth’s folly. Yet their love, doomed by destiny, taught Napoleon more about loss and ambition than any victory ever could. From the ashes of that early passion, he forged the discipline and hunger that would one day conquer empires. Foolishness became wisdom; curiosity became strength.

So, my listener, do not mock your first love, nor regret its end. It was meant to be imperfect — for it was your teacher, not your destiny. It showed you how wide the heart could open, how deep it could ache, how much it could dream. Let it live in your memory not as failure, but as the morning of your soul’s awakening. For Shaw reminds us that though first love is built of foolishness and curiosity, it is also the beginning of wisdom. And wisdom, like love itself, is born only through experience.

Therefore, love bravely, even if love must end. Be curious enough to feel deeply, and humble enough to learn from what follows. For every heart must wander through the fields of youth before it can climb the mountains of understanding. And though your first love may not lead you to forever, it leads you to yourself — and that, above all, is worth every foolish, beautiful beginning.