From my earliest youth, I have known that while one is obliged to

The words of Shimon Peres, “From my earliest youth, I have known that while one is obliged to plan with care the stages of one's journey, one is entitled to dream, and keep dreaming, of its destination. A man may feel as old as his years yet as young as his dreams,” resound like the quiet wisdom of a man who has seen both the storms and the dawns of history. Beneath these words lies a truth as ancient as life itself: that dreams are the fountain of youth for the soul, and that though time may erode the body, it cannot wither the heart that still aspires. Peres, a statesman, visionary, and peacemaker, speaks as one who built his life upon this harmony between discipline and imagination, between the careful planning of the path and the unyielding faith in the destination. His words remind us that progress is born not from rigid reason alone, but from the marriage of dream and diligence, of vision and perseverance.

To understand the origin of this quote, one must understand the man who uttered it. Shimon Peres, born in 1923 in what was then Poland, grew up in a world shadowed by war and displacement. As a young man, he emigrated to the land that would become Israel, a land still without form or security, and devoted his life to helping it rise. He helped build its industries, its defense, and, in time, its dreams of peace. Throughout his long life—spanning nearly a century—Peres never lost his belief in the creative power of hope. He had seen both the brutality of history and the miracle of renewal, and so he knew that humanity’s greatest resource is not its weapons or its wealth, but its capacity to dream forward, even through the ruins of yesterday.

In these words, Peres reveals a universal principle: that life must be lived with both structure and spirit. To “plan with care” is to respect the realities of the world—to work, to study, to build wisely, and to prepare for the hardships of the road. But to “keep dreaming” is to transcend those realities—to see not only what is, but what can be. Without planning, dreams fade into illusion. Without dreaming, plans grow cold and lifeless. The wise traveler therefore balances both—his feet steady on the ground, his eyes lifted to the horizon. This is the art of living with purpose, an art that turns years into growth rather than decline.

The truth of Peres’s words shines brightly when we recall the story of Thomas Edison, who spent years refining the electric light. For every experiment that failed, he planned another with greater precision—but it was his dream that kept him alive through failure. “I have not failed,” he once said, “I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” His discipline gave form to his vision; his vision gave life to his discipline. Had he planned without dreaming, he would have been a mere mechanic. Had he dreamed without planning, he would have been a fool. But by combining both, he became an architect of light. Such is the truth Peres imparts: that dreams and plans are not opposites—they are the two wings by which the human spirit flies.

And when Peres says, “A man may feel as old as his years yet as young as his dreams,” he touches the deepest chord of the human heart. The body may age, but the soul remains ageless if it still longs, still strives, still imagines. History is filled with those who proved this: Michelangelo, painting the vault of the Sistine Chapel at the age of seventy; Nelson Mandela, who emerged from prison not with bitterness, but with a dream of reconciliation that inspired the world. Their hair turned gray, their hands trembled—but their dreams burned as fiercely as ever. Age, then, is not counted by years, but by the vigor of one’s vision. The man who dreams is never old, for his soul keeps renewing itself with each vision of what might yet be.

Peres’s words also carry a moral power, one that speaks especially to our times. In an age of distraction, many plan, but few dream; in an age of fantasy, many dream, but few plan. The lesson, then, is to restore balance—to remember that a dream without effort is a whisper lost to the wind, but effort without a dream is labor without meaning. The one who lives wisely keeps both alive within him: the practicality of the builder and the imagination of the poet. In this way, he participates in creation itself, shaping the world not only as it is, but as it ought to be.

So, my listener, take heed of Peres’s gentle command: plan your journey, but never stop dreaming of your destination. Map your steps with care, but let your heart remain open to wonder. Let not age, failure, or weariness convince you that the dream has passed. For as long as you can envision something more beautiful, something truer, you are still alive in the truest sense. Remember this: the world belongs not to those who have lived the longest, but to those who have dreamed the deepest.

Thus, Shimon Peres, who lived a century yet remained ever youthful in spirit, leaves us this timeless inheritance. He teaches that the mind gives direction, but the dream gives life. Nurture both, and your days will not merely pass—they will unfold like chapters in a story that continues long after you are gone. For as long as your dream endures, you remain forever young, and your journey, no matter its length, forever worth taking.