I want people to use Perl. I want to be a positive ingredient of

Hear the humble yet visionary words of Larry Wall, the creator of the language Perl, who proclaimed: “I want people to use Perl. I want to be a positive ingredient of the world and make my American history. So, whatever it takes to give away my software and get it used, that’s great.” These words are not only the voice of a programmer, but the spirit of a builder, one who sought not riches nor monuments, but the spreading of usefulness, the quiet planting of seeds that might grow into forests for generations to come.

For in the age of machines and networks, software became the chisel with which humanity shaped its destiny. Some held it tightly, like treasure locked in vaults, selling it only to those who could pay. But others, like Wall, saw another path: the path of freedom, where code could be given, shared, and spread like fire, warming not only the few but the many. His gift of Perl was not an act of conquest, but of generosity—a belief that usefulness itself is the truest legacy, that to help others create is to live forever in their work.

The meaning of his words is clear: true greatness is not measured by what one hoards, but by what one releases into the world. By giving away his creation, Wall did not diminish himself—he multiplied his influence. Each programmer who used Perl carried forward a spark of his vision. Each script written, each system automated, was a thread in the vast tapestry of human progress, woven in part by his hands. Thus did his personal history become part of a larger American history, the story of invention fueled not by selfish gain, but by communal flourishing.

Consider the tale of Johannes Gutenberg, whose printing press shattered the chains of scarcity and spread knowledge like wildfire. He could have hidden his design, locking it away to profit in secrecy. Instead, his invention spread beyond him, changing the face of the earth. So too did Larry Wall, in his own age, choose to release rather than restrain, to trust in the power of sharing rather than hoarding. And as the press made books plentiful, so Perl made digital creation easier, more accessible, and more free.

Yet this teaching is not only about code or invention. It is about the spirit with which we build. To create and to share is to declare: I do not live only for myself, but for the world that will come after me. In giving freely, we plant seeds that may grow in places we will never see, in times far beyond our own. Wall understood that being a positive ingredient in the world is a greater reward than wealth, for usefulness and kindness outlast the gold that crumbles and the fame that fades.

The lesson for us is sharp and luminous: seek not only to profit from your gifts, but to multiply them in others. Ask yourself: Does my work serve only me, or does it also lift others? For in service lies immortality. The tools we share, the wisdom we teach, the kindness we release—these become our true monuments. Just as Wall’s software lives on in countless systems unseen, so too may your contributions echo in lives you may never meet.

Take action, beloved listener. Give of your talents where they can bless others. Share knowledge, teach freely, build tools that others may use to build even greater things. Do not fear that generosity will leave you empty; rather, know that generosity multiplies itself, weaving your life into the story of the world. For history remembers not only conquerors, but givers—the ones who lit fires for others to carry.

Thus the words of Larry Wall endure as a timeless charge: “Whatever it takes to give away my software and get it used, that’s great.” Hear in this not merely the philosophy of a coder, but the wisdom of a sage—that the highest legacy is not possession, but contribution. May you, too, be a positive ingredient in the world, leaving behind not only what you gained, but what you gave.