I think the main thing about comedy and humor is that it's

When Mike Nichols said, “I think the main thing about comedy and humor is that it’s impossible and always was impossible to define,” he spoke not only as a master of laughter but as a philosopher of the human soul. His words unveil an eternal truth: that humor is not a formula to be captured, nor a science to be mastered. It is a mystery — an instinct born from the mingling of joy and sorrow, light and shadow. For laughter is the echo of consciousness itself, that strange sound the human spirit makes when it recognizes both its frailty and its glory. Nichols reminds us that to define humor is to limit it; it lives only when it is free, unpredictable, and profoundly alive.

The meaning of his words lies in the paradox of comedy — that it is at once universal and deeply personal, timeless and fleeting, sacred and foolish. What makes one person laugh may leave another unmoved; what delights one generation may puzzle the next. And yet, laughter remains one of the few languages that all hearts understand. Nichols, a man who lived and breathed the art of performance, knew that no rule or theory could ever contain the essence of humor. It is a spark — spontaneous, mysterious, and divine. It arises where logic fails, where contradictions meet, and where the human heart recognizes itself in the absurd.

In this way, humor is like truth itself — impossible to define, yet unmistakable when it appears. The ancient philosophers struggled with this very mystery. Aristotle called comedy “the imitation of the ridiculous,” but even he could not capture its essence. Plato, while suspicious of laughter, admitted that humor reveals something profound about human nature — that we are creatures caught between wisdom and foolishness. For laughter, in its deepest form, is not merely amusement; it is understanding. It is the soul’s way of saying, “I see the irony of existence — and I accept it.”

The origin of Nichols’ insight lies in his life as both artist and observer. Born in a time of war, an immigrant who rose through the stages of theater and film, Nichols understood that humor is often born from pain. He and his partner, Elaine May, revolutionized comedy not by defining it, but by living it — by embracing the truth that comedy is the art of contradiction. They could make audiences roar with laughter by holding up a mirror to the absurdities of modern life. In their work, laughter became revelation — not escapism, but confrontation. They proved that comedy, in its highest form, is not the opposite of seriousness, but its twin.

Consider the story of Charlie Chaplin, who turned the tragedy of poverty into the poetry of laughter. In the silent world of Chaplin’s films, where words were absent and yet everything was said, he revealed the impossible nature of humor. His tramp character made the world laugh while breaking its heart. How could one explain this — how could one define the laughter that rose from both joy and sorrow at once? It was impossible, just as Nichols said. For humor defies logic because it springs from the contradictions of the human condition. To laugh, sometimes, is to weep with understanding.

In his wisdom, Nichols was teaching more than art — he was teaching humility. To accept that comedy cannot be defined is to acknowledge that life itself cannot be fully understood. Both are woven from paradox. The moment we think we have captured them, they slip through our grasp. Just as laughter cannot be forced, meaning cannot be manufactured. True humor arises not from cleverness alone, but from awareness — from seeing life in all its complexity and absurdity, and daring to love it anyway.

So, my listener, let this lesson take root in your heart: do not seek to define all things — seek instead to experience them. Humor, like love, like beauty, resists confinement. It thrives in mystery, in imperfection, in spontaneity. Laugh not only when life is kind, but when it is cruel, for in that laughter you will find freedom. The wise do not ask, “What is comedy?” They ask, “What does this moment teach me about myself, and can I still smile through it?”

For Mike Nichols knew what the ancients knew: that to laugh is to live deeply. It is the breath of the spirit that refuses despair. Let your humor be honest, your laughter compassionate, and your heart open to the paradoxes of existence. Do not try to define comedy — become part of it. For life itself is the greatest joke ever told: beautiful, tragic, and endlessly profound. And those who learn to laugh within it do not escape truth — they embrace it, fully and fearlessly, as only the wise can.