I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile.

Hear the words of Charles de Lint, the modern bard whose tales mingle the everyday with the eternal: “I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile.” In this yearning, he does not speak merely of fame or glory, but of a deeper mission—the desire to awaken joy in the souls of men, to bring comfort to the weary, to remind a darkened earth of the light still hidden within it. For to touch the heart of the world is no small task; it is to reach beyond oneself, to stir the innermost spirit of humanity with compassion, beauty, and truth.

The ancients often dreamed of such a mission. Poets of Greece, prophets of Israel, sages of the East—all sought not only to speak to their own generation but to plant words and deeds that would ripple across time. Homer sang not for himself but to give voice to a people’s longing for heroism. Confucius taught not for the few but for the order of nations. Their works, like arrows, sought the heart of the world—and when struck true, the world itself was moved, uplifted, made to smile through harmony and wisdom.

Consider the life of Florence Nightingale. She did not command armies nor rule empires, yet her compassion in the Crimean War touched the heart of the world. With a lamp in her hand and courage in her spirit, she walked among the wounded, bringing hope where there was only despair. Her deeds spread beyond the battlefield, awakening reforms in medicine and inspiring generations. Did she not, in her quiet way, make the world smile, proving that one soul aflame with compassion can change the destiny of many?

There is also the example of Martin Luther King Jr. His dream was not for himself alone, but for a people bound in chains of injustice, and for a nation divided by hatred. He touched the heart of the world with words of justice tempered by love, and even in prison cells and under the threat of death, his voice rang out with hope. When he spoke of freedom, when he called for brotherhood, he gave humanity a glimpse of its better self. His mission, like de Lint’s desire, was to awaken a smile across the face of the earth—a smile born not of fleeting pleasure but of justice fulfilled.

The meaning of de Lint’s words, then, is both tender and powerful. To touch the heart of the world is to give oneself to the service of others, to heal what is wounded, to encourage what is weary, to kindle joy where shadows linger. And to make it smile is to bring about not only laughter, but a restoration of spirit, a reminder that life, despite all trials, is still beautiful and worth embracing. This is no idle wish; it is the calling of artists, leaders, saints, and all who would live not for themselves but for the greater harmony of mankind.

The lesson for us is clear: do not measure your life only by what you achieve for yourself, but by how deeply you have touched others. Seek not to break the heart of the world with anger or cruelty, but to soothe it with gentleness and to strengthen it with courage. A single kind word, a simple act of compassion, a gesture of encouragement—all are arrows that may strike unseen, yet may awaken a smile in places you will never know.

Practical action flows from this wisdom. Each day, look for the small ways to lift another soul: greet with warmth, listen with patience, give without expecting return. Create beauty, whether in word, in deed, or in craft, that may endure and reach beyond you. And above all, carry within yourself the desire not merely to exist, but to leave the world lighter, brighter, and more joyful for your presence.

Thus let de Lint’s words echo across the ages: “I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile.” For this is the noblest of missions—that each of us, in our own way, might awaken in others the remembrance of joy, and in doing so, become part of the eternal work of healing the soul of humanity.