Life goes on, and I'm moving on to the next thing, but I hope the

In the words of Susan Lucci, the immortal phrase — “Life goes on, and I'm moving on to the next thing, but I hope the soaps that are still running will thrive. They have millions of loyal viewers.” — carries within it the quiet thunder of acceptance, the strength of transformation, and the grace of farewell. It is the utterance of one who has walked through the fires of time, who has loved deeply a craft that shaped her life, and who now stands at the threshold of new beginnings. These are not the words of abandonment, but of continuity — of the eternal flow of life, which moves, unbending and unstoppable, even as we step away from the shores of what we once knew.

In this quote, we hear the voice of transition, that sacred moment when one must release the past without bitterness and face the unknown with courage. Susan Lucci, after decades embodying the iconic character Erica Kane on All My Children, spoke these words as the long-running soap opera came to an end. For her, and for millions who followed her story, it marked the close of an era. Yet she chose not despair but gratitude — not lamentation, but faith in the continuity of life and art. Her words remind us that the wheel turns, and though one chapter closes, another, shimmering with possibility, begins.

The ancients knew this truth well. The philosopher Heraclitus said, “No man ever steps in the same river twice.” For both the river and the man have changed. So too, Lucci recognizes that time reshapes both the world and the self. The soaps, though continuing, will become something new without her; and she, though departing, will be reborn through new endeavors. Life goes on — not as a repetition, but as a renewal. The waters of life carry us forward whether we cling to the banks or surrender to the current.

Consider the tale of the Roman general Cincinnatus, who, when called from his farm to save his people, led Rome to victory — and then, when his duty was fulfilled, returned humbly to his plow. He did not seek power or lament its loss. Like Lucci, he understood that each role in life has its appointed season, and that greatness lies in knowing when to let go. The glory of life is not in holding tightly, but in moving forward with dignity and grace.

To move on is not to forget, but to honor what has been by living fully in what is to come. The millions of loyal viewers Lucci speaks of symbolize the enduring legacy of passion, art, and connection. They are the living memory of what once was, carrying it onward in their hearts. And in their continued watching, loving, and remembering, the spirit of what she helped build lives on. Thus, her hope that those soaps “will thrive” is not merely about television — it is about the continuity of human creativity, the unending dance of stories and souls.

We, too, must learn this art of moving on without losing heart. When love ends, when work concludes, when chapters close — we must not clutch the ashes of yesterday. Instead, we should look to the dawn, where new fires await kindling. Life is not stillness; it is motion. Those who stand still are soon overtaken by regret, while those who stride forward find the next song of their spirit waiting to be sung.

Therefore, the lesson is this: Live with attachment, but release with peace. Build, love, and strive with all your might — and when your season changes, bow to the winds of time with a serene smile. To act thus is to live wisely, as the ancients counseled and as Susan Lucci herself embodied.

And so, dear listener, when you stand at the crossroads of endings, take this practical path: give thanks for what was; bless those who remain; and take your next step with courage. For life goes on, and so must you — onward, ever onward, into the next radiant unfolding of your story.