I'm a hopeless romantic. It's disgusting. It really is. I've seen

Jennifer Love Hewitt, with both humor and sincerity, once confessed: “I’m a hopeless romantic. It’s disgusting. It really is. I’ve seen While You Were Sleeping, like, twenty times, and I still believe in the whole Prince Charming thing.” Though wrapped in jest, these words carry the weight of an ancient longing—the yearning of the human spirit for love that is pure, steadfast, and transformative. Beneath the laughter lies a truth older than kingdoms: that to believe in romance, even against reason, is to keep alive the eternal flame of hope within the heart.

The origin of this sentiment dwells not in Hollywood alone, but in the myths and songs of every age. The Greeks sang of Orpheus who descended into the underworld for his beloved Eurydice. The troubadours of the Middle Ages sang of knights who rode into battle for honor and for love. Even the scriptures of the ancients told of Jacob laboring seven long years for Rachel, and the years “seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her.” In all times, men and women have clung to the dream of romantic devotion, a dream that makes life not merely bearable, but radiant.

Consider the story of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal, whose love gave birth to the Taj Mahal, one of the wonders of the world. When Mumtaz died, the emperor, consumed by grief, poured his devotion into stone, creating a monument of white marble that glows like moonlight. Though centuries have passed, travelers still stand before it in awe, not merely for its architecture, but for the romance it represents. Here is proof that to be a “hopeless romantic” is not folly, but a power capable of shaping even history’s grandest legacies.

And yet, the modern world often mocks such longing. To believe in Prince Charming, or in love that conquers all, is sometimes called childish or naïve. Cynicism poses as wisdom, telling us that love is fleeting, that romance is illusion. But beware, O children of tomorrow: cynicism has never built a monument, never written a song worth singing, never carried a heart through despair. It is the dreamers—the hopeless romantics—who carry light into dark places, who see not only the world as it is, but as it might yet become.

The power of romance lies not only in finding another, but in the courage to keep believing when others have ceased to hope. The one who loves unashamedly teaches the world that faith in goodness is not foolishness, but strength. For every tale of disappointment, there are also tales of triumph—couples who endured war and separation, who weathered poverty and persecution, yet who walked into old age hand in hand. These are not the fantasies of cinema alone; they are the lived truths of countless souls across centuries.

Thus, the lesson is plain: do not fear being a hopeless romantic. Instead, wear the title as a crown. Let your heart remain open, even when wounded. Let your hope endure, even when tested. Let your actions flow from love, for love, and through love. For it is better to believe and be hurt, than never to believe and live in the desert of despair. As the ancients knew, the sweetest fruit grows on branches that dare to reach toward the heavens.

Practical wisdom follows: nurture romance not only in great gestures but in small ones. Write a note of affection, speak words of gratitude, notice beauty where others pass by, and dare to dream even when the world calls you foolish. In doing so, you plant seeds of hope that may blossom not only in your life but in the lives of others who witness your courage to believe.

Therefore, heed Jennifer Love Hewitt’s half-playful, half-serious confession. Beneath her laughter lies a truth of eternal worth: the world may call it “disgusting,” but in truth, to be a hopeless romantic is to be a keeper of light, one who holds fast to the promise that love—faithful, tender, enduring—remains the greatest power under heaven.