I was always too mature for my age - and not very happy. I had no

"I was always too mature for my age – and not very happy. I had no young friends. I wish I could go back to those days. If I could only live it all again, how I would play and enjoy other girls. What a fool I was." — so confessed Maria Callas, the divine voice of opera, whose life rose in splendor and fell in solitude. These words, uttered not from the stage but from the quiet ache of reflection, are the lament of one who traded innocence for greatness, and found that the crown of genius often presses heavily upon the heart. Within her regret lies a lesson for all ages: that wisdom gained too soon can be a kind of sorrow, and that the joys of youth, once denied, can never be reclaimed, save in memory and repentance.

In the manner of the ancients, one might say: the child who grows too swiftly forgets the rhythm of laughter, and the burden of greatness steals the lightness of the soul. Maria Callas, even as a young girl, was marked by destiny. Gifted beyond measure, disciplined to the point of severity, she carried the fire of art in her chest like a divine command. While other children played in the sun, she trained; while others dreamed, she labored. And though her voice would one day make emperors weep and nations adore, the price was her own youthful joy. Her words reveal the tragic paradox of brilliance — that the same light which elevates can also consume, and that a soul too eager to be wise may lose the sweetness of living.

There is, in her reflection, the timeless pain of those who awaken too early. For the child who bears the weight of maturity before its time learns the discipline of the mind but not the dance of the heart. Callas, in her longing to “play and enjoy other girls,” speaks not as the prima donna of legend, but as a woman mourning her stolen girlhood. Her “foolishness,” as she calls it, was not ignorance, but over-seriousness — the belief that greatness demands the sacrifice of joy. Yet true wisdom, as the ancients taught, is not the rejection of play, but its fulfillment through balance. The soul that never laughs cannot create; the artist who forgets to live cannot truly sing.

History offers another mirror of her sorrow in the figure of Pascal, the prodigy philosopher who, at sixteen, mastered mathematics and physics, but by thirty was weary of life’s pleasures. His mind soared among the stars, but his spirit, deprived of rest and wonder, sank into melancholy. Like Callas, he discovered too late that knowledge without joy is a barren triumph. Their stories remind us that life’s fullness is found not in speed, but in savoring — not in the number of achievements, but in the quality of moments shared and felt.

Maria Callas’s regret is thus not merely personal; it is universal. It speaks to every soul that has hurried through youth, every heart that has traded laughter for ambition, and every parent who pushes a child to brilliance before their spirit is ready. She calls across time: do not be too wise too soon; let yourself be young while you can. For the world will always demand your labor, but it will never return your youth. The songs of childhood are fleeting, yet their echo sustains the heart for a lifetime — if one only allows oneself to sing them.

The lesson in her words is clear and luminous: protect your inner child, no matter your age. Work with devotion, but play with equal passion. Cherish friendship, delight in simplicity, and do not mistake gravity for greatness. The tree that grows too straight in pursuit of the sky forgets to sway with the wind; it may rise high, but it loses its music. Likewise, the human spirit must bend and laugh and dance, lest it harden into loneliness.

And so, my child, remember Maria Callas — not only as the woman whose voice could break hearts, but as the soul who longed to laugh again. Let her sorrow be your wisdom: that success without joy is a hollow victory, and maturity without tenderness is exile. When the world urges you to hurry, pause. When it tells you to grow up, smile, and play a little longer. For though time moves swiftly, happiness belongs to those who dare to live fully — to those who remember that the truest song is not sung from the stage, but from the heart that has learned to balance greatness with grace, and maturity with joy.