I want to be able to make people laugh and cry and feel happy or

Olivia Holt, a voice of youth and ambition, once declared: “I want to be able to make people laugh and cry and feel happy or sad and feel all these different emotions through singing and acting. Hopefully throughout my career, I’ll get to pursue them.” These words, though soft in tone, carry the essence of the artist’s calling. For in them lies the eternal truth: that art is not merely performance, but the awakening of the human soul to the full range of its own being.

The ancients knew well that the highest purpose of the artist was to stir the heart. In the theaters of Greece, the playwrights wrote tragedy and comedy, not only to entertain, but to bring audiences to tears, to laughter, to reflection. Aristotle himself wrote that tragedy purges the soul through catharsis—that in weeping for Oedipus or Antigone, the people themselves were cleansed and strengthened. Holt’s dream is born of this same tradition: to be a vessel through which others might feel deeply, and in feeling, become more fully human.

Consider the power of song, which has always carried emotion more swiftly than words alone. The songs of enslaved peoples in America, sung in fields of suffering, held both sorrow and hope, despair and strength. They brought tears and they brought courage, carrying their singers through unbearable trials. Or think of actors, who have stood upon stages for centuries, from Shakespeare’s London to modern screens, giving voice to emotions that others dare not speak aloud. In each case, the artist becomes a mirror, reflecting both the pain and joy of the human condition.

Holt’s words also reveal humility. She does not claim mastery yet, but speaks of hope, of her desire that “throughout my career” she may pursue this path. This humility is itself wisdom, for the artist’s journey is never complete. Each song, each role, each performance is another step toward greater depth. Just as a sculptor chips away at stone to reveal hidden beauty, the artist chips away at her own limitations, seeking always to connect more deeply with the hearts of others.

There is also in her words a reminder of balance. For to give only joy would be shallow, and to give only sorrow would be unbearable. The fullness of art requires both—laughter and tears, happiness and sadness. Life itself is this balance, and the artist’s duty is to remind us of it. When audiences laugh and cry, when they feel joy and grief together, they remember that their lives are not wasted in numbness, but lived in the richness of feeling.

History gives us countless examples of such artists. Charlie Chaplin, with his silent films, could make the world laugh even as tears welled in their eyes, showing poverty, loneliness, and love in a single scene. Nina Simone, through her singing, could fill her audience with joy one moment and pierce them with sorrow the next, giving voice to both personal and collective struggles. Holt stands in this ancient lineage, aspiring to the same power: to awaken hearts, to stir souls, to leave behind not just entertainment, but transformation.

The lesson is clear: pursue your work, whatever it may be, not only for skill or acclaim, but for the effect it has on others. Ask yourself—does what I create, what I say, what I do, stir others to feel more deeply, to live more fully? Do I awaken in them the capacity for both joy and sorrow, for both laughter and reflection? For the greatest legacy is not in applause alone, but in the lives that are touched and changed by the emotions you have kindled.

So let each who hears these words be reminded: to live is to feel, and to help others feel is the noblest calling. Whether through song, through story, through kindness, or through truth, strive to awaken in others the full spectrum of the human heart. For in doing so, you walk the path of the artist, and you join the eternal company of those who make the world not only more beautiful, but more deeply alive.