It's important for us to latch onto the people that we love.

“It’s important for us to latch onto the people that we love.” – Connie Stevens

So spoke Connie Stevens, an artist of grace and experience, whose words rise beyond the simplicity of affection into the realm of wisdom. In this tender truth, she reminds us that love is not meant to be admired from a distance, but held fast — embraced, guarded, and nurtured with intention. To “latch onto” is not to cling from fear or weakness, but to hold with reverence what gives life its meaning. For the human soul, like a drifting vessel, needs anchors — and those anchors are the hearts we love. Without them, we are adrift upon the currents of time, alone upon the sea of existence.

When Stevens says it is important “to latch onto the people we love,” she speaks of the sacred duty of connection. In an age that prizes independence and self-sufficiency, her words recall the older truth: that no heart is an island. The strength of life lies not in solitude, but in companionship — in the shared laughter, the quiet understanding, the unseen presence that steadies us when storms come. To love deeply and hold tightly is not a weakness, but the courage to be vulnerable, the wisdom to cherish what is mortal before it fades.

The origin of this wisdom is as old as humanity itself. Since the dawn of time, men and women have built their lives around love — for family, for friend, for beloved, for tribe. In ancient tales, even heroes found strength not in their armor, but in the faces that waited for them to return. Odysseus crossed seas not for glory, but for Penelope. Marcus Aurelius, though emperor of Rome, wrote that the affection of one loyal companion was worth more than the applause of nations. Across centuries, the wise have known: to hold onto love is to hold onto life itself.

Consider the story of Anne Frank, who, even in the darkness of hiding, wrote of her belief in goodness and the power of human connection. Surrounded by fear and loss, she drew light from the people she loved — her family, her dreams, her longing for friendship. Her spirit endured not because she was untouched by pain, but because love gave her strength to face it. Her diary, that immortal testament of hope, stands as proof that even in despair, love can be a lantern. She latched onto love, and through it, her soul shone beyond death.

Yet Stevens’ words also carry a gentle warning. The act of “latching on” requires effort, awareness, and gratitude. Too often we take for granted the hearts beside us — until time steals them away. We wait for the perfect moment to speak, to embrace, to forgive — and the moment never returns. Love demands presence. It calls us to hold our people close while we can, to value their laughter, to remember their fragility. To latch onto love is to choose not indifference, but devotion; not neglect, but remembrance.

The ancients believed that the gods envied mortal love — because only what can be lost can truly be cherished. Immortality dulls the sweetness of affection; death sharpens it into something precious. So, to “latch onto the people we love” is to live with both gratitude and courage, knowing that every shared moment is a miracle of time. Love is not infinite in form, but infinite in meaning. It is the bridge that binds the fleeting to the eternal.

So, my listener, remember this wisdom: do not walk alone when you can walk beside someone. Seek the ones whose presence makes you gentler, whose laughter reminds you that life is still good, whose kindness steadies your heart when the world grows cold. Hold them — not to possess them, but to honor them. Tell them they matter while the dawn still breaks. For as Connie Stevens teaches, it is not wealth or fame that keeps the soul alive, but the arms, the voices, the faces of those we love. And when you have found such hearts, do not let them drift away — latch on, and never forget to cherish the miracle that they are.