I don't think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve

Hear the words of Tom Stoppard, playwright and thinker, who declared: “I don't think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little or make a poem which children will speak for you when you're dead.” In this proclamation, he lifts high the power not of the writer’s name, but of the word itself. For men and women perish, but words endure; fame fades, but the right words, bound together in truth and beauty, carry across centuries like echoes that never die.

The meaning is profound. Stoppard humbles the writer, reminding us that no person is divine simply because they hold a pen. Yet he elevates words as sacred vessels—tools that, when arranged rightly, can shift societies, soften hearts, inspire courage, or etch beauty into eternity. To respect words is to respect the building blocks of thought, the very breath of human expression. Words are not to be wielded carelessly, for in them lies the power to heal or to wound, to create or to destroy.

History reveals the truth of his insight. Consider the words of Abraham Lincoln, who in the Gettysburg Address spoke for barely two minutes, yet whose phrases—“government of the people, by the people, for the people”—have lived for generations, shaping the very idea of democracy. Lincoln himself was mortal and flawed, but his words transcended his life. Or think of Martin Luther King Jr., whose dream still stirs the hearts of millions, though he long lies in the grave. In both cases, it was not the men themselves who were sacred, but the words they left behind.

Even in the realm of poetry and story, we see this same power. Homer, whoever he was, vanished into the dust of history, yet The Iliad and The Odyssey still sing across the ages. Children and scholars alike recite lines written thousands of years ago, carrying his vision beyond death. The writer is forgotten, but the words live on. This is what Stoppard means when he says that if you place the right words in the right order, they may be spoken even when you are no more.

And yet, his statement is also a warning: that we must not take words lightly. A careless phrase can ignite hatred, as propaganda once did in the darkest hours of the twentieth century, unleashing war and cruelty. Just as words can preserve justice, they can corrupt it. Thus, respect for words means not only reverence for their beauty but caution in their use. The world may be nudged a little, yes—but nudged toward light or darkness, depending on the hand that wields them.

The lesson, child of tomorrow, is this: cherish your words, for they are seeds of eternity. Do not despise the simplicity of a sentence, for within it may lie the power to comfort the sorrowful or to awaken the weary. Do not worship the writer, for the writer is flesh and passing, but honor the words that endure. Learn to use them with precision, with humility, and with love, so that what you leave behind may help, not harm, the world.

To live by this wisdom, practice attentiveness in your speech and writing. Do not scatter words like dust in the wind; weigh them as though they were stones to build a house. Speak truth when it is difficult, beauty when the world is bleak, and courage when fear prevails. And above all, remember that the smallest phrase may echo beyond your lifetime, carried forward in the hearts of children yet unborn.

Thus, the wisdom of Tom Stoppard remains: “Writers are not sacred, but words are.” Let it remind you that immortality lies not in your name, but in your words rightly spoken. And may those words, whether humble or grand, serve as lights for those who walk after you, long after your voice has faded into silence.