Imagination grows by exercise, and contrary to common belief, is

“Imagination grows by exercise, and contrary to common belief, is more powerful in the mature than in the young.” Thus wrote W. Somerset Maugham, the keen observer of human nature and master of quiet wisdom. In this declaration, he breaks a beloved myth — that imagination belongs only to youth, that it fades like a flame as the years advance. Maugham, who lived long enough to see the dreams of his youth seasoned by experience, teaches instead that imagination, like the body, grows strong through use, not age. It is not lost with the passing years, but deepened — if one continues to exercise it, to feed it, and to live with eyes and heart open to the world.

The origin of this truth lies in Maugham’s own life — a life of travel, creation, and introspection. As a young man, he wrote with brilliance, but as an older man, he wrote with power. He had wandered through continents, met kings and beggars, witnessed both glory and sorrow. In his maturity, his imagination had ripened; it had been tested and refined by reality. He knew that youthful imagination is like a bright fire that burns quickly, consuming everything with passion, but mature imagination is like an enduring light — steadier, deeper, more capable of revealing the hidden shapes of truth. Through experience, imagination gains wisdom; through reflection, it gains strength.

To say that imagination grows by exercise is to remind us that it is not a gift to be received, but a discipline to be practiced. Just as the body becomes strong through movement, the mind becomes luminous through creation. The dreamer who sketches daily, the writer who fills pages, the thinker who questions what seems obvious — these are they who keep the imagination alive. In the young, imagination is instinctive and wild; in the mature, it becomes conscious, purposeful, and therefore more powerful. Maugham teaches that age is not the enemy of creativity; stagnation is. The one who ceases to imagine, no matter how young, begins to die inwardly; but the one who continues to exercise the inner vision, even in old age, remains ever young of soul.

Consider the example of Michelangelo, who in his seventies still lifted hammer and chisel, shaping marble into living form. His imagination had not waned; it had become sublime. The young artist may dream of beauty, but the mature artist knows what beauty costs — and thus his imagination burns with greater truth. Or take Beethoven, who, deaf and aged, composed his Ninth Symphony — a work not of youthful fancy, but of transcendent imagination born from struggle and endurance. In such souls, imagination was not a fleeting dream of youth but the crown of maturity, forged in the fires of experience.

Maugham’s wisdom also rebukes a modern illusion — that imagination is the province of fantasy, detached from the real. In truth, the greatest imaginations arise from those who have lived, who have suffered and endured, who have seen the world’s complexity and yet still choose to create beauty from it. The imagination of the mature person is not naïve; it is compassionate. It sees through disillusionment, not to despair, but to understanding. To imagine at forty or seventy is to have one’s vision tempered by reality and still to dream — a far greater miracle than the effortless wonder of childhood.

And yet, imagination, like a muscle, must be used to grow. The mind that ceases to read, to dream, to create, grows stiff and weary. But the one who dares to keep imagining — who paints though his hands tremble, who writes though her eyes dim, who envisions new worlds though the old one feels small — that person defies the decay of time. For imagination is not the privilege of youth; it is the inheritance of the living.

So, dear listener, take this lesson as the elders of old would: exercise your imagination. Feed it with art, with books, with silence and observation. Do not believe that age steals it from you; only fear and complacency can do that. Let your experience become the soil from which new visions grow. As W. Somerset Maugham teaches, the imagination, when exercised, matures like fine wine — richer, deeper, more potent with every year. Dream boldly, not as the child who does not yet know the world, but as the sage who knows it well and still dares to believe in its endless possibilities.