I'm very into Taylor Swift. From her music to her wardrobe, she

Hear, O listener, the words of Connor Franta, who proclaimed: “I’m very into Taylor Swift. From her music to her wardrobe, she is absolutely killing it. Also, she has adorable cats that I would love to pet.” At first, these words sound playful, even lighthearted—a tribute from admirer to artist. Yet beneath their casual tone lies a profound truth about the nature of admiration, the power of artistry, and the human longing to connect not only with greatness but also with the gentleness hidden within it.

For to honor another’s music is not merely to praise sound, but to recognize how deeply melody and word can shape the spirit. Taylor Swift, like the bards of old, weaves her life into songs that echo in the hearts of millions. In them are tales of triumph and heartbreak, of friendship and betrayal, of love found and lost. By exalting her music, Connor acknowledges that the artist’s voice can serve as both mirror and lantern—reflecting our own emotions while guiding us through them. The ancients themselves believed that music was divine medicine for the soul, and here we see that truth endure.

Yet admiration does not rest in song alone. To notice her wardrobe is to perceive the union of outer and inner expression. In garments, she chooses symbols—sometimes regal, sometimes playful, always deliberate—that extend the stories told by her music. Clothing, in this light, becomes more than fabric; it is a second language, a declaration without words. In praising this, Connor shows us that the wise admirer seeks not only what is heard, but also what is seen, recognizing that beauty and meaning flow through many channels at once.

And then, almost with a laugh, he speaks of her cats—creatures small and domestic, symbols of softness and affection. Here the mighty star, whose songs shake stadiums and whose image fills the world, is revealed in her tender humanity. Even the greatest among us hold within their lives simple joys: a purring companion, a playful glance, a moment of warmth. To wish to pet her cats is to long for that closeness, that reminder that greatness and gentleness are not enemies but companions. Thus admiration is complete—not for art alone, nor for power alone, but for the fullness of a human life.

History tells us this pattern is not new. Alexander the Great, conqueror of empires, was said to be deeply devoted to his horse Bucephalus. To his men, Alexander was the thunder of war; yet in his love for his animal, he was simply a man, tender and loyal. Those who admired him did not honor him only for his battles, but for the breadth of his being—his strength and his gentleness, his ambition and his affection. So too with Taylor Swift: she is not only song and spectacle, but also laughter, intimacy, and companionship.

O listener, learn from this: admiration must be whole. Do not idolize a person for one fragment of their life, but honor the many dimensions that make them human. See the art, but also the effort behind it. See the glamour, but also the ordinary joys that remind us we are all kin. To admire rightly is not to worship blindly, but to recognize in another what is both inspiring and relatable.

Therefore, the teaching is this: when you speak of those you admire, let your words carry both reverence and warmth. Celebrate their music, their wardrobe, their craft, but also their simple delights—their pets, their laughter, their humanity. In this balance, you will discover not only their greatness but also your own reflection within it.

Thus I say to you: let admiration be a mirror and a guide. Honor the artistry of others, cherish their humanity, and let their example inspire you to craft beauty, live authentically, and love tenderly. For as Connor Franta reminds us, even the brightest stars shine not only in their splendor, but also in the gentle companionship of their cats.