I only travel to good material, a good director and a good

Jim Dale once spoke with tenderness and resolve: “I only travel to good material, a good director and a good company. I won't work in another country for a year any longer, because I have a lovely wife and I adore her and I can't bear to be away from her.” In these words we hear the wisdom of one who has walked the long road of ambition, who has tasted the rewards of distant journeys, but who has come to understand the greater treasure of love. It is a confession both practical and poetic: that art and career must be worthy to merit sacrifice, and that the heart, once bound in devotion, will not lightly endure absence.

The origin of these words lies in the life of the actor, a profession that demands constant travel, long separations, and the surrender of stability to the whims of stage and screen. Many have lost themselves to this endless wandering, sacrificing family and intimacy upon the altar of fame. Yet Dale declares another truth—that no project, no matter how grand, can outweigh the joy of companionship with the one he loves. Here we see not only the wisdom of age but the humility of a man who places love above ambition.

The ancients knew well the tension between duty and devotion. Consider Ulysses, whose long years away from Ithaca brought him honor, battles, and endless stories, but also deep sorrow. His heart yearned not for distant glory, but for Penelope, who waited faithfully at home. His odyssey teaches us what Dale affirms: that the greatest longing of the human soul is not for kingdoms or crowns, but for the nearness of love. To lose years in foreign lands is to risk returning to an empty hearth.

Dale’s words also speak of discernment. “I only travel to good material, a good director, and a good company,” he says. These are not the words of one weary of labor, but of one who has learned to value quality over abundance. The young may chase every opportunity, but the wise choose only the work that nourishes both art and spirit. History gives us the example of Michelangelo, who did not accept every commission, but chose projects worthy of his soul—the Sistine Chapel, the Pietà—works that still endure. Dale, in his own field, echoes this wisdom: not every road is worth the journey.

There is also in his declaration the profound beauty of devotion to his wife. “I adore her,” he says plainly. In a world where careers often fracture families, such devotion is rare and heroic. It is reminiscent of the medieval knights who, though called to quest, carried the image of their lady as their guiding star. Dale’s refusal to wander too long is a modern act of chivalry, an honoring of love as the highest calling, greater than applause, greater than acclaim.

The lesson for us is clear: choose your sacrifices wisely. Work, ambition, and travel can bring opportunity, but they should never strip us of what makes life meaningful. If you must travel, let it be for something worthy; if you must labor, let it be for something noble. And never let the hunger for achievement eclipse the deeper hunger of the heart—for love, for home, for presence with those who matter most.

Practically, this means pausing often to weigh our choices. Before saying yes to another journey, another project, another obligation, ask: what will this cost, and is it worth the absence from those I love? Cultivate the courage to say no when necessary, and the wisdom to say yes only when the reward justifies the sacrifice. In doing so, we honor both our craft and our relationships.

Thus, Jim Dale’s words shine as a beacon of balance: art must be worthy, and love must be preserved. To adore another and to protect that bond, even at the cost of ambition, is not weakness but the greatest strength. His lesson to future generations is this: the applause of the world fades, but the embrace of the beloved endures, and it is this embrace that makes all journeys worthwhile.