I'm pretty romantic.

Douglas Booth, with disarming simplicity, once confessed: “I’m pretty romantic.” At first, these words may seem light, almost casual. Yet within them lies the echo of an ancient truth—that to be romantic is not merely to scatter flowers or whisper sweet words, but to live with a heart attuned to beauty, to wonder, to love itself. In this confession is not boastfulness, but the humble admission of one who values tenderness and the art of cherishing another.

The ancients revered such a spirit. The poets of Greece sang of Eros, the god of love, who moved men and women to great acts, both noble and tragic. The troubadours of the Middle Ages called themselves servants of romance, lifting their songs not for coin, but for the honor of their beloved. To be romantic was to live not only with reason, but with passion, to see in the face of the beloved a reflection of the divine. Thus, Booth’s words, though spoken in the modern tongue, carry the spirit of those ancient traditions.

Consider the story of Abelard and Heloise, whose love in twelfth-century France burned so brightly that it defied the strictures of their age. Their letters, filled with longing and intellect, remind us that to be romantic is not only to feel but also to express, to give voice to what stirs the heart. Even through separation and tragedy, their words endure, echoing through the centuries, a testament to the power of romance. Their lives show us that romance is more than fleeting delight—it is the courage to love deeply, even against the odds.

But romance is not confined to lovers alone. It is found in the one who sees beauty in a sunset, who lingers by a quiet river, who writes poetry in the margins of life. To be romantic is to embrace the mystery of existence with reverence, to look at the world not as a machine of cold facts, but as a garden of wonder. In this sense, Booth’s words may be heard not only as a statement about affection, but as a way of being: to live with openness, vulnerability, and awe.

Yet his words also hold a gentle warning. For romance without grounding can drift into illusion. Many have fallen into despair because they mistook fantasy for love, or adorned another with qualities that did not exist. The romantic spirit must therefore walk in balance—embracing passion but not abandoning truth, honoring beauty but not denying reality. In this balance lies wisdom: to love deeply without losing oneself, to dream boldly without being deceived by the dream.

What, then, must we learn from this? That to be romantic is not a weakness, nor a thing to hide, but a strength of the heart. In a world that too often prizes cold ambition, the romantic soul is a healer, a light-bearer, a reminder that we are made for connection. To cultivate romance is to cultivate humanity itself, for without love, all our achievements ring hollow.

So I say to you, children of the heart: do not be ashamed to confess, as Booth did, “I am pretty romantic.” Show your affection, write your words of love, give your flowers, plan your walks, sing your songs. But above all, live with tenderness. Let your romance not only touch the beloved, but flow outward into all of life, so that you see beauty where others see none, and you bring warmth where the world grows cold. For the romantic heart is not only a lover—it is a guide, a light, and a keeper of the soul’s deepest truths.