My dad taught me true words you have to use in every

Hear now the warm and humorous wisdom of Star Jones, who once said: “My dad taught me true words you have to use in every relationship. ‘Yes, baby.’” Beneath the laughter of this saying lies an enduring truth, spoken in jest but rooted in love: that harmony between hearts is born not of domination, but of understanding, of gentle surrender, and of mutual respect. Though light in tone, this quote carries the wisdom of ages — for every lasting bond, be it friendship, partnership, or marriage, depends upon the humility to listen, to yield, and to affirm the worth of another’s spirit.

The origin of these words comes from Star Jones, a woman of strength, intellect, and wit — a lawyer and television personality who rose from humble beginnings to national prominence. Her father, she often said, was her first teacher in matters of life and love, and through his humor, he imparted wisdom deeper than most sermons. His phrase — “Yes, baby” — was not a command to submit, but a lesson in grace. It was the art of keeping peace through kindness, of valuing harmony above pride. In a world where argument so often drowns affection, he reminded her that love thrives in the soft answer, the smile that disarms tension, the choice to yield rather than to wound.

The ancients, too, knew this truth well. Solomon, in his songs and proverbs, wrote that “a gentle tongue is a tree of life.” The Stoics taught that the greatest power is self-control, not conquest; that to govern one’s ego is to bring order to the world. And in the wisdom of the East, Confucius taught that the noble person seeks harmony, not uniformity — peace without the loss of individuality. Thus, Star Jones’s father, in his simple and playful saying, joins the company of sages: he teaches that love is not sustained by victory, but by humility, by the willingness to speak the words that keep affection alive — even if those words are “Yes, baby.”

To understand the deeper meaning of such humor, one must see the strength in gentleness. There is a story from history of Eleanor Roosevelt, wife of the American president, a woman of vision and will. Though her marriage endured strain and hardship, she once said, “It is not by arguing that one keeps love alive, but by remembering kindness.” She did not mean silence in the face of injustice, but compassion in the face of pride. Like the lesson of Star’s father, her wisdom reminds us that in relationships, the goal is not to win the battle, but to preserve the bond. Pride may bring victory for a moment, but patience secures peace for a lifetime.

And yet, let us not mistake these words for weakness. To say “Yes, baby” is not to lose one’s voice, but to choose one’s battles with care. It is the power of one who knows that love is not built on endless correction, but on understanding when to let small things pass. The warrior’s strength lies in his sword, but the wise person’s lies in restraint. In every union — of lovers, of friends, of family — peace grows from the soil of empathy. To yield sometimes, to affirm, to reassure — these are acts of quiet courage, not submission. They are the foundation stones of respect.

In truth, this quote is not about gender or jest, but about the essence of relationship itself — the eternal dance of give and take. To love deeply is to accept imperfection, to cherish the person over the principle, the connection over the conflict. When Star Jones’s father offered his playful counsel, he was passing down a secret as old as time: that love is a dialogue, not a debate; a song sung in harmony, not competition. To say “Yes, baby” is to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I choose peace.”

So let this be the lesson, O listener of hearts: in your relationships, learn the sacred art of humility. Speak words that heal, not words that harm. Choose peace where pride tempts you to anger. Know when to be silent, and when to affirm with kindness. The wise do not seek to win arguments — they seek to win trust. For love that endures is not the love that conquers, but the love that understands.

Thus, remember the playful wisdom of Star Jones’s father — the humor that hides deep truth: “Yes, baby.” These two words, spoken in sincerity, carry more power than a thousand clever retorts. They are the language of patience, the music of peace, the wisdom of love itself. And in mastering them, one masters not another person, but oneself — the greatest victory of all.