I have always been a romantic, one of those people who believes

The words of Tom Robbins ring with playful wonder: “I have always been a romantic, one of those people who believes that a woman in pink circus tights contains all the secrets of the universe.” In this statement, lighthearted yet profound, he unveils the essence of romantic vision: the power to see infinity in the ordinary, mystery in the whimsical, and eternity in a fleeting image. Robbins does not merely speak of a circus performer—he speaks of the heart’s ability to take what others might dismiss as trivial and behold in it the radiant key to existence.

To be a romantic in the truest sense is to live as the poets of old, who could see gods in the rivers, omens in the stars, and eternity in a lover’s eyes. Robbins continues this lineage, declaring that to him even something as humorous as “a woman in pink circus tights” becomes a vessel of cosmic significance. This is not foolishness, but sacred vision—the recognition that the world is charged with beauty and meaning for those who dare to look deeply.

The ancients themselves celebrated this kind of vision. Consider the story of Pygmalion, who gazed upon his own carved statue and saw not cold marble, but the embodiment of love itself. To others, it was a figure of stone; to him, it was the secret of his soul. So too, Robbins insists that behind every colorful, even comical exterior lies a universe of secrets, waiting to be discovered by the eye that sees with love rather than cynicism.

There is in this statement also a rebellion against the modern tendency to flatten life, to explain everything away until no mystery remains. Robbins cries out as the ancients once did: the world is not meant to be stripped of wonder, but embraced in its strangeness. The woman in circus tights is not only a performer, but a symbol of life’s wildness, its color, its refusal to be bound by logic. The romantic knows that to touch the infinite, one must be willing to marvel at what others overlook.

History gives us shining examples of this spirit. Think of Giotto, the painter of the Middle Ages, who found holiness not only in the cathedrals but in the simple gestures of peasants and mothers. Or consider William Blake, who saw angels in the trees of London when others saw only wood and leaves. Both were, like Robbins, romantics—souls who believed that the infinite can be glimpsed in the seemingly absurd or mundane.

The lesson is clear: to live as a romantic is to cultivate vision. Do not despise what appears silly, ordinary, or strange, for within it may lie the key to wonder. The secrets of the universe are not always revealed in temples or libraries—they may shimmer in laughter, in performance, in the sparkle of pink tights beneath circus lights. The question is not whether the world contains magic, but whether you have eyes to see it.

Therefore, let all who hear these words take action: open your heart to marvel. Let yourself believe in beauty, even when clothed in humor. Refuse the dullness of cynicism and embrace the romantic spirit that sees eternity in a glance, infinity in a gesture, and mystery in the most unexpected of places. For the one who lives this way will never walk in emptiness, but always in wonder.

Thus Tom Robbins speaks not merely in jest but in wisdom: romance is the vision that transforms the circus into the cosmos, and a fleeting image into the secrets of the universe. Seek this vision, and you will live not only with eyes, but with soul aflame.