I used to write things for friends. There was this girl I had a

Hear the words of Stephen Colbert, cloaked in humor yet rich with hidden wisdom: “I used to write things for friends. There was this girl I had a crush on, and she had a teacher she didn’t like at school. I had a real crush on her, so almost every day I would write her a little short story where she would kill him in a different way.” At first these words seem the jest of a young heart, an awkward boy’s attempt to win affection. Yet beneath the laughter lies a profound truth about creativity, love, and the power of the written word.

For what does this tale reveal but the timeless truth that art springs not from cold logic but from passion? The boy with a crush turned his desire into stories, weaving fantasy from longing, shaping fiction from affection. He could not fight battles with swords nor bring treasures to her feet, but he could bring laughter and delight with his imagination. And so, from the fire of youthful yearning, was born the seed of a writer and a storyteller. This is the first lesson: the heart in motion gives birth to art.

Such beginnings are not strange to the great ones of history. Think of the poet Dante, whose love for Beatrice ignited the Divine Comedy. He, too, turned the ache of desire into a masterpiece that spoke not only to his beloved, but to all of humanity. So too did Colbert, in the playful arena of youth, discover that words could charm, entertain, and connect souls. The short story, though playful and violent in form, was in truth an offering—a gift of attention, imagination, and devotion.

Yet there is another truth here, sharp as the sword of the ancients: the imagination gives us power where reality denies it. The girl could not conquer her teacher in the real world, but through Colbert’s tales, she triumphed each day. Thus we see that storytelling is not merely escape; it is transformation. Through it, pain is turned into laughter, frustration into triumph, weakness into strength. The boy, powerless in many ways, became mighty through his pen. This is the power of words: they reshape reality in the realm of the spirit.

But consider also the lesson of intention. Colbert did not write for himself alone; he wrote for another. His stories were born not merely of self-expression but of service—to entertain, to comfort, to bring joy to one he admired. This reveals another eternal truth: that creativity flourishes most when it seeks not only to please the self, but to lift another. The artist who creates from love, whether romantic, friendly, or divine, gives their work a force that endures.

The wisdom of this quote, then, is not in its humor alone but in its pattern: write, or create, from the fullness of your heart; let your passion become your offering; let imagination transform the burdens of life into gifts of laughter and meaning. Whether through song, painting, or tale, pour yourself into the work, for in doing so, you discover not only the path to another’s heart but the path to your own becoming.

Therefore, O seekers of truth, do as Colbert once did in his youth. When desire stirs you, let it not consume you in silence, but channel it into creation. When you see a friend suffer, give them not only sympathy but also the gift of your imagination, your effort, your heart. Create stories, songs, or acts of kindness that transform their burdens into joy. For in this practice lies the secret of art, the forging of connection, and the triumph of the spirit. Write, create, imagine—for in doing so, you not only win affection, but you also discover the great truth: that art is born where love and imagination meet.