I like to wake up each morning feeling a new man.

“I like to wake up each morning feeling a new man.” Thus spoke Jean Harlow, the luminous star of Hollywood’s golden age, whose words shimmer with humor, wit, and a deeper truth hidden behind their sparkle. Though at first her saying may seem only a playful jest, it reveals something profound about renewal, about desire for change, and about the eternal human yearning to meet each dawn with freshness and delight. Beneath the laughter of her tone lies a wisdom as old as time: that every day offers a chance to begin anew.

To wake up each morning is not merely to open one’s eyes, but to rise from the darkness of yesterday, to shake off the weight of past sorrows, and to greet the sun as though it were shining for the first time. The ancients often spoke of dawn as a rebirth: the Egyptians revered Ra as he sailed his golden barque across the heavens, returning each morning after his descent into night. To “feel a new man” is to embody this daily rebirth, to treat each rising sun as a chance to transform, to step out of the shell of yesterday and into the light of today.

Harlow, known for her radiant presence, turns this truth into jest by tying it to the image of companionship—awakening with a new man at her side. Yet beneath the humor is a bold defiance of convention: she suggests that change, variety, and freshness are not vices, but joys that keep the heart alive. In a world that demanded conformity and permanence, she embraced the freedom of reinvention. Her words remind us that to live fully, one must not cling too tightly to sameness but dare to welcome the new.

History offers us many who lived by this principle. Consider Benjamin Franklin, who each morning asked himself, “What good shall I do this day?” Though he did not speak of lovers or companions, his practice was the same spirit Harlow conveyed: to meet the dawn with a fresh purpose, to treat himself as reborn with each sunrise. It was this discipline of renewal that allowed him to wear many roles—printer, philosopher, inventor, statesman—each a “new man” born from the same soul.

The deeper lesson of Harlow’s saying is that life becomes heavy when it stagnates. Whether in love, in work, or in the soul itself, sameness breeds weariness. To wake up feeling a new man is to cultivate change, to invite freshness, to allow laughter and novelty to refresh the spirit. It is not only about lovers in bed, but about ideas, about energy, about daring to greet the world with eyes unclouded by yesterday’s fatigue.

This truth applies not only to stars and sages but to all of us. We too can choose to “wake up new” by shedding grudges, by releasing regrets, by seeking something fresh each day—a new thought, a new kindness, a new act of courage. The new man may be an actual companion, but it may also be our own renewed self, born again with each sunrise. Harlow’s wit, therefore, is both playful and profound: to live joyfully, we must allow ourselves to be remade each day.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, let this be your practice: rise with the sun as if you have been reborn. Seek novelty in small things, whether it be a different path walked, a new word spoken, or a fresh kindness offered. Refuse to let life grow stale. Embrace change, laughter, and renewal as sacred gifts. And remember always Jean Harlow’s playful wisdom: each morning is a chance to wake not as the old self, but as something—and someone—new.

For in the end, to “feel a new man” is to feel the pulse of life itself—ever changing, ever refreshing, ever reborn with the dawn.