I've always liked Saturn. But I also have some sympathy for

Hear the playful yet poignant words of Jared Leto, who mused upon the heavens with a heart both whimsical and just: “I’ve always liked Saturn. But I also have some sympathy for Pluto because I heard it’s been downgraded from a planet, and I think it should remain a planet. Once you’ve given something planetary status it’s kind of mean to take it away.” Though spoken with humor, there lies within this remark a deep reflection on dignity, belonging, and the way in which labels can shape the worth we assign to things—and even to people.

The meaning of this quote is layered with both cosmic imagery and human truth. Saturn, crowned with its majestic rings, has long commanded awe and admiration. Pluto, small and distant, once carried the noble title of planet, until astronomers, by decree, stripped it of this honor in 2006. Leto sees in this act not mere science, but a kind of cruelty, a withdrawal of recognition. His sympathy for Pluto reflects the human instinct to defend the overlooked, the diminished, the forgotten. For once something has been raised up, to lower it again feels unjust, as though its dignity has been betrayed.

The ancients, too, wrestled with such matters. In the myths of Greece, heroes and gods often elevated mortals to greatness, only to cast them down in jealousy or judgment. Consider the tale of Icarus, who soared too high on wings of wax only to fall—his rise and fall echoing the fate of Pluto, granted planetary glory only to be cast into the shadows of "dwarf planet" status. Leto’s words, though gentle, remind us that the heart recoils at such reversals, for they awaken the primal sense that honor, once given, should not be lightly revoked.

History bears this truth in human affairs as well. Think of the great warrior Napoleon, crowned Emperor of France, adored by millions, only to be exiled in disgrace to a lonely island. The same world that once celebrated him as destiny’s chosen ruler turned cold and rejected him. Like Pluto, his stature was downgraded, his identity redefined. And yet, the memory of his greatness endured, just as many still hold fast to Pluto’s title of planet, refusing to let the decree of a council erase what the heart once embraced.

The lesson here is clear: recognition matters. The names and titles we give to things—whether to planets, to people, or to achievements—carry weight. To strip them away thoughtlessly can wound, can diminish the spirit. We must be careful with our judgments, for behind every name lies a story, behind every designation lies an identity. If we are to change, let us do so with compassion, never forgetting the dignity that once was granted.

Practical action follows: in your own life, be mindful of how you define others. Do not take away honor with careless words. Do not dismiss someone’s worth because the world has shifted its definitions. Like Pluto, there are many who dwell on the margins, overlooked and diminished, but who still carry within them the full majesty of a planet’s soul. Offer them sympathy, as Leto does. Uphold their dignity even when others forget it.

So let these words echo: “Once you’ve given something planetary status it’s kind of mean to take it away.” This is not only about the stars—it is about us. It is about the responsibility we carry when we name, when we honor, when we elevate. Let us not be quick to strip away what we once bestowed. For whether it is a planet in the heavens or a person on this earth, dignity, once given, must be guarded with love, lest we become careless judges of both the cosmos and the human heart.