I don't think, until the end, I had read a positive review of

The words of Will Friedle—“I don’t think, until the end, I had read a positive review of Boy Meets World”—bear witness to an ancient and enduring truth: that the judgment of critics is not always aligned with the heartbeat of the people, nor with the lasting value of a work. In his lament, one hears both sorrow and defiance, for here is an actor who poured his spirit into a tale beloved by generations, yet found himself deprived of recognition by those who wield the pen of opinion. This is the cry of countless creators across time: to labor under the scorn of the few, yet find glory in the love of the many.

The ancients spoke often of the fickleness of reputation. Herodotus wrote of kings whose names were cursed in their own time, yet honored as heroes centuries later. Friedle’s confession echoes this same rhythm: neglect by critics, devotion by audiences, vindication in the end. Thus do we learn that the eyes of official recorders are often clouded, and that the true measure of art lies not in reviews, but in the enduring warmth it leaves in the hearts of those who encounter it.

Consider the tale of Vincent van Gogh, who painted the heavens with fire and fields with eternity, yet sold almost nothing in his lifetime. Critics dismissed his brushstrokes as madness, and society cast him aside. Yet today his work is celebrated as a window into the soul of humanity, commanding reverence and awe. Just as Friedle did not see positive reviews until the final days of the show, so too van Gogh never saw the praise that history would later shower upon him. The lesson here is profound: greatness is not always crowned in its own age.

And yet, there is beauty in this struggle. To create without applause, to act, to sing, to paint, to labor when the world offers no praise—this is the truest form of devotion. It is the essence of integrity, the unshakable fire of purpose. Friedle’s words remind us that one must not rely upon the fleeting judgments of newspapers and journals, for they change like the wind. Instead, one must hold fast to the work itself, and to the silent gratitude of those touched by it.

There is also in his voice a heroic triumph, for though the critics withheld their blessing, Boy Meets World endured. It entered the hearts of millions of young souls, shaping their laughter, their friendships, and their memories. When the curtain closed, it was not the reviews that remained, but the affection of those who had grown up with the story. This teaches us that the true measure of success is not written in ink, but in memory, in love, and in the invisible bonds forged between creator and audience.

So what lesson shall we take, O seekers of wisdom? It is this: when you labor in your craft, whether it be art, teaching, leadership, or love, do not set your eyes only on the praises of critics. Their words may not reflect the true worth of your work. Instead, look to the fruit of your efforts, to the lives you touch, to the enduring ripples that flow outward from what you have built. Remember, it is possible to live unseen by those who judge, yet deeply seen by those who matter most.

Therefore, let your actions be guided not by the hunger for acclaim, but by the fire of purpose. If the critics mock you, endure; if they ignore you, persist; if they misunderstand you, remain faithful to your craft. And should recognition never come in your time, let it be known that you labored for truth, for beauty, for the shaping of souls. For as Friedle’s words remind us, what is dismissed today may one day be remembered as timeless.