I suppose there are a lot of reasons to be jaded or sarcastic or

The words of Kelli O’Hara — "I suppose there are a lot of reasons to be jaded or sarcastic or bitter in life, but I hang on to the reasons why life is beautiful." — ring with the quiet courage of one who has looked upon sorrow and chosen hope. For indeed, life offers all men and women countless chances to grow weary, to harden the heart, to wrap themselves in bitterness as a shield against disappointment. Yet O’Hara speaks with the wisdom of one who refuses to be conquered by despair. She reminds us that though shadows abound, there remains an enduring light — the simple and profound beauty of life — and that to cling to this beauty is an act of strength, not weakness.

The origin of this truth lies in the human condition itself. From the ancient world to our own, humanity has been tested by grief, injustice, betrayal, and loss. Cynicism beckons like an easy refuge, for to be jaded requires little effort; it is the natural fruit of disappointment. But to resist, to hold fast to love, joy, and wonder, is a deliberate choice — a heroic act of the soul. O’Hara, known for her artistry in the theater, speaks from a place where beauty must be cherished even in the face of imperfection. Her insight is timeless: beauty is not found in denying pain, but in remembering that pain does not extinguish the whole of life.

History offers us stirring examples. Consider Anne Frank, who in the darkness of hiding, surrounded by the terrors of war and the shadow of death, still wrote of her belief in the goodness of people. She had countless reasons to grow bitter, yet she chose instead to cling to the fragile threads of hope and beauty. Her diary stands as a testament to O’Hara’s words: to hang on to the reasons why life is beautiful is to preserve the soul even when the world seems intent on destroying it.

Or recall the story of Nelson Mandela, who after twenty-seven years in prison emerged not embittered but filled with forgiveness. He had reason enough to be sarcastic about justice, jaded about humanity, and bitter about his oppressors. Yet he chose instead to focus on reconciliation, dignity, and the beauty of a free South Africa. His greatness lay not in his suffering alone, but in his refusal to let that suffering consume his vision of a better world.

O’Hara’s wisdom reveals that beauty is not something stumbled upon — it is something we must choose to see. The flowers bloom, the child laughs, the sun rises; yet only those who open their eyes in gratitude will notice. The jaded heart dismisses these as trivial, but the awakened heart treasures them as reminders of life’s worth. In this, beauty becomes not a luxury, but a discipline, a form of resilience.

The lesson is this: life will always give you reasons for bitterness, but it will also always give you reasons for wonder. You cannot control the storms, but you can decide whether to focus only on the clouds or to notice the rainbow that follows. This choice defines the strength of your spirit. To cling to beauty is not to deny sorrow, but to transcend it.

What, then, should you do? Guard your heart against cynicism. When you feel bitterness creeping in, seek out small acts of beauty: listen to music that lifts you, walk among trees, hold close those you love, offer kindness even when it is undeserved. Write down each day one reason that life is beautiful, and let your spirit be trained to see light amid the darkness. By doing this, you will not only save your own soul from despair but also become a beacon to others.

Thus let this wisdom endure: though life may wound you, do not surrender to bitterness. Hold fast, as O’Hara teaches, to the reasons why life is beautiful. For in clinging to beauty, you cling also to hope; and in clinging to hope, you preserve the very essence of what it means to be human.