I don't ever want to be a sentimentalist. I prefer to be a

“I don’t ever want to be a sentimentalist. I prefer to be a realist. I’m not a romantic really.” Thus declared James Earl Jones, a voice of thunder and authority, yet also of humility and wisdom. In his words we hear the eternal tension between dream and truth, between the gentle illusion of sentiment and the iron weight of reality. He speaks not in disdain for love or beauty, but as one who chooses to see the world without veil, to stand before life as it is rather than as we wish it to be.

The ancients too struggled with this divide. The romantics of every age sought to clothe the world in ideals, to see glory in every gesture, poetry in every shadow. But the realists—like Thucydides in his account of the Peloponnesian War—wrote plainly of ambition, betrayal, and the hard necessities of survival. For while romance can inspire, sentiment can blind. To be a sentimentalist is to risk drowning in illusion, mistaking the soft glow of dreams for the stern fire of truth. Jones’s words carry this caution: better to walk in truth, even when harsh, than to stumble in a dream that cannot last.

Yet, let us not despise the romantic spirit. It has its place, for it lifts the soul to hope and vision. But when unbalanced, it weakens. History gives us many examples. Consider the tragic fate of the French Revolution’s early leaders, who cloaked their cause in the romance of liberty, equality, fraternity. Yet when sentiment overtook realism, the dream collapsed into terror and bloodshed. Their lofty ideals, untempered by the discipline of reality, could not sustain the weight of governance. Thus, Jones’s wisdom reminds us: the heart may dream, but the mind must see clearly.

There is also nobility in his rejection of sentiment. For Jones himself, who endured stuttering as a child and the struggles of hardship, knew the strength required to face reality as it is. His life testifies that triumph does not come from hiding pain in the cloak of romantic illusions, but from grappling with it directly, with courage and discipline. To speak as he does is to urge others to choose strength over self-deception, clarity over comfort.

And yet, in his very realism lies a hidden form of hope. For to see life as it truly is does not mean to despise beauty. It means to find beauty within truth, rather than outside of it. The realist builds not castles in the air, but fortresses on rock. The sentimentalist may marvel at flowers in spring, but the realist plants and waters them, ensuring their bloom in reality. Thus, Jones’s philosophy does not deny the human need for joy; it insists that joy must be earned through honesty.

The lesson, then, is clear: balance is required. Do not scorn the romantic, for vision is needed to inspire. But do not surrender to sentimentalism, for false comfort will crumble in the storm. Choose instead the path of realism—face life as it is, and within that truth, carve beauty that endures. As Marcus Aurelius wrote in his Meditations: “Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.” The realist does not dream of ideals; he lives them.

Practical action flows from this truth: cultivate clarity in your own life. Ask yourself not what feels good, but what is true. Do not cling to illusions that soothe you today but betray you tomorrow. Build your love, your work, your art, on reality’s foundation. And when beauty appears, cherish it not as fantasy, but as truth revealed.

So, children of tomorrow, heed the wisdom of James Earl Jones. Do not be swallowed by sentiment, nor blinded by the false light of endless romance. Instead, stand as a realist, rooted, unshaken, and clear-eyed. For it is better to walk through the world with steady steps upon stone than to float upon clouds that vanish with the wind. And in that steadiness, you will find a beauty deeper than illusion: the beauty of truth itself.