I am thankful, of course, for the prize and thankful to God for

Isaac Bashevis Singer, the great teller of tales, once uttered with humility and reverence: “I am thankful, of course, for the prize and thankful to God for each story, each idea, each word, each day.” These words, though spoken after he had received one of the highest honors—the Nobel Prize in Literature—reveal a heart that measured greatness not by earthly rewards, but by the daily mercies of life itself. His thanksgiving was not limited to the recognition of men, but was rooted in the quiet blessings that had sustained him through the long journey of creation.

Singer’s wisdom here draws a clear distinction between the fleeting glory of a prize and the eternal gift of inspiration. The prize, though treasured, was but the acknowledgment of human institutions. Stories, ideas, words, and days, however—these were treasures flowing ceaselessly from the hand of God, greater than any crown bestowed by kings or scholars. In his humility, Singer reminds us that the true wealth of a writer is not the gold of recognition, but the divine spark that lights the imagination, the gift of language, and the breath of time to use it well.

To be thankful for each story is to recognize that the act of creation itself is a gift. Each tale spun, each character born, is not merely the product of human effort, but a mystery breathed into the heart of the artist. Singer knew that words are not conjured from nothing—they are received, discovered, unearthed like gems from the soil of the soul. Thus, gratitude for each story is gratitude for the divine dialogue between God and man, between silence and expression.

Likewise, to be thankful for each idea and each word is to embrace the smallest miracles. An idea may be as fragile as a spark, a word as small as a seed—but from them come the forests of thought, the architecture of civilizations, the bridges of understanding between hearts. Singer’s words echo the wisdom of the ancients: that nothing is too small for thanksgiving, for the smallest gifts often prove to be the greatest. Just as the widow’s mite shone brighter than the treasures of the wealthy, so too a single word may change the destiny of nations.

History provides examples of this truth. Consider the speeches of Winston Churchill in the darkest days of World War II. A few words, spoken with courage, fortified a nation against despair. Or think of Anne Frank, who in the shadow of death wrote words that still illuminate the conscience of the world. Each story, each idea, each word—these were the currency of the spirit, greater than medals or prizes. Singer’s thanksgiving encompasses them all, for he knew they were gifts entrusted to him not for his own sake, but for the sake of humanity.

To be thankful for each day is to live with the wisdom of mortality. Singer, a survivor of exile and the turmoil of history, understood the fragility of time. Days are not to be taken for granted, for each dawn is an unearned mercy. Gratitude for the day itself sanctifies the hours, turning ordinary time into holy opportunity. The ancients called this carpe diem—to seize the day—but Singer reminds us that to seize it rightly is to begin by giving thanks for it.

The lesson is clear: let us not wait for the grand prizes of life to awaken gratitude. Instead, let us give thanks for the daily mercies—the stories we live, the ideas that stir us, the words that guide us, and the days we are given to breathe and to act. For recognition passes, but the gifts of God endure. Gratitude transforms them from common into sacred, from overlooked into cherished.

Practically, we may walk in this wisdom by beginning each day with thanksgiving. Give thanks for the breath that rises, for the thought that stirs, for the word that forms upon the tongue. Record in a journal the small ideas and moments that enrich your life, and offer them as prayers of gratitude. And when honors or recognition come, receive them with humility, but never let them overshadow the greater blessing of the daily gifts that sustain you.

Thus, Isaac Bashevis Singer’s words remain not only a writer’s confession, but a timeless teaching: be thankful to God for the stories, the ideas, the words, and the days. For in these lies the true prize, the treasure greater than any accolade of men, the wealth that endures beyond time itself.