I work very hard, and I play very hard. I'm grateful for life.

The words of Maya Angelou flow like a river of fire and wisdom: “I work very hard, and I play very hard. I’m grateful for life. And I live it—I believe life loves the liver of it. I live it.” In this saying, the poet speaks not only of her own path, but of a law woven deep into the fabric of existence. Life is not meant to be endured as a burden only, nor squandered in idle ease, but to be embraced fully, with both diligence and delight. Those who give themselves wholly to the dance of labor and joy alike, those who pour their spirit into both toil and celebration, taste the sweetness of life as it was meant to be tasted.

Angelou teaches us that work and play are not enemies but companions. To work hard is to honor the gifts given us, to shape the world with our hands, to build, to strive, to create. To play hard is to honor the soul, to laugh, to rejoice, to embrace beauty, to sing in the fleeting sunlight of our days. The balance of the two is the harmony of a life well-lived. The man who only works becomes a prisoner of duty, worn down by endless striving. The one who only plays becomes shallow, drifting like a leaf without root or purpose. But the one who does both with passion burns bright as a torch, warming others by his flame.

And at the center of her words is the power of gratitude. For the grateful heart sees life not as owed but as gifted, not as empty but as overflowing. Gratitude transforms both work and play into acts of worship. To rise at dawn to labor is no longer drudgery when one sees each breath as a blessing. To dance, to feast, to rest is no longer mere indulgence when one does so with thanksgiving. Thus, gratitude ties together the seeming opposites of toil and delight, making both radiant.

Consider the life of Winston Churchill during the Second World War. He bore the crushing weight of leadership, laboring endlessly to defend his nation. Yet even in the darkest hours, he paused for laughter, for wit, for good food and fine cigars. He worked with unyielding ferocity, yet played with zest and humor, knowing that both sustained his spirit and the spirits of those he led. He, too, was a liver of life—never shrinking from the battle, yet never forgetting the joy of living. In this balance, he drew strength to endure the storm.

Angelou’s phrase, “life loves the liver of it,” is a jewel of wisdom. She declares that life itself responds to those who embrace it fully. The timid, who fear to live, find life slips through their fingers like sand. But the bold, who give themselves to living—who dare to labor with vigor, who dare to rejoice with abandon—find life opening to them, yielding beauty, adventure, and joy. It is as though life itself blesses those who bless it with their courage.

The lesson is clear for all who hear: do not live half-heartedly. Throw yourself into your work with discipline and devotion, but do not neglect the songs, the laughter, the friendships, the leisure that refresh the spirit. Each day, pause to give thanks, for gratitude magnifies both toil and pleasure. Remember always: life is short, a vapor, a passing wind—therefore, waste none of it in apathy or complaint. Instead, live it, for life is a gift that rewards the one who receives it with open arms.

Practically, let each one of us shape our lives with intention. Work with diligence in whatever your hand finds to do. Give your full heart to your craft, your family, your calling. But also, carve out time to rejoice: to walk beneath the trees, to share a meal, to laugh until tears fall. Keep a practice of daily gratitude, naming aloud the gifts you have been given, however small. And above all, dare to live—not in hesitation, but in fullness.

Thus, Maya Angelou’s teaching becomes a torch for all generations: to work, to play, to be grateful, to truly live. For in living fully, in embracing both sweat and song, we honor the gift of existence. And life itself, mysterious and generous, bends to bless those who live it bravely, passionately, completely. Live it.