I collect all the reviews of the films I turned down. And when

The words of Simone Signoret fall with the sharpness of wit and the serenity of wisdom: “I collect all the reviews of the films I turned down. And when they're bad—I have to smile.” At first, it sounds like a playful confession, a small indulgence in the irony of fate. But beneath this jest lies an eternal teaching: that life’s path is not determined by every opportunity grasped, but also by those wisely refused. The smile of Signoret is not a smirk of cruelty, but a quiet acknowledgment that restraint is itself a victory.

The meaning of this saying rests in the art of discernment. Many live with regret, haunted by the chances they did not take, the roads they did not walk. But Signoret shows us another way: to celebrate not only the roles we choose, but also those we decline. To smile when the rejected path crumbles is to recognize that wisdom guided the hand that said “no.” It is the affirmation that choice is power, and that every refusal is as defining as every acceptance.

The ancients, too, praised this wisdom. Consider Odysseus, who turned down the immortality offered by Calypso. Many might have condemned him as foolish for rejecting eternal youth and divine company. Yet in returning home to Ithaca, in choosing mortality and the trials of his own destiny, he secured his name among the great heroes of legend. His “turned-down role” became the foundation of his glory. And had he stayed, no bard would have sung of him. So too does Signoret remind us: often it is in refusal that destiny is preserved.

Her practice of collecting reviews is a ritual of reflection. Each bad review becomes proof that her judgment was sound, that she escaped a fate of mediocrity or misstep. This is not gloating, but the act of remembering—of measuring her path not by what might have been, but by what is. In an industry where vanity can consume, her smile is a shield, protecting her from regret, envy, and doubt. It is a lesson in self-trust: to stand by one’s decisions with courage, even as the world debates them.

There is also a teaching here about the power of perspective. A lesser spirit might lament: “What if I had taken that role?” They might gnaw at their own past, blinded by what could have been. But Signoret transforms regret into laughter, disappointment into triumph. By turning reviews into sources of joy rather than sorrow, she shows us that the mind itself is the greatest interpreter of events. Life will always bring us roads not traveled—what matters is how we see them.

The origin of this wisdom lies in a lifetime of choices. Simone Signoret, acclaimed yet selective, understood that to say “yes” to everything is to diminish the value of one’s “yes.” By turning down roles that did not suit her, she preserved her dignity, her artistry, her sense of self. In her smile, we glimpse not arrogance but gratitude—that her path, though narrower, was truer. It is the same principle that has guided sages and leaders through history: to choose less often, but more wisely.

The lesson for us is clear: do not fear the refusals of your life. Celebrate them as much as your acceptances. Keep your own collection—whether of letters, jobs, relationships, or chances you turned away—and when the storms prove your choice right, smile. And even if they do not, remember that the strength to choose itself is worthy of honor. In practice, this means trusting your instincts, learning to say “no” with conviction, and guarding the path of your life with discernment.

So let the words of Simone Signoret be passed down as teaching: not every door must be opened, not every offer must be taken. A smile at what was refused is sometimes brighter than pride in what was gained. For wisdom is not only in winning battles, but in knowing which battles not to fight. And the one who can laugh at the roads untraveled walks with the freedom of a soul that trusts its own way.