My dating advice for Paris would be just to take your time.

The words of Kathy Hilton—“My dating advice for Paris would be just to take your time”—seem, at first glance, simple and motherly. Yet beneath their gentleness lies a timeless truth that the ancients themselves would have recognized: that the heart, like all things of worth, must not be rushed. Love, when hurried, becomes illusion; but when tended with patience, it becomes a sacred bond. Hilton’s advice, offered from mother to daughter, is the whisper of experience speaking to innocence—the eternal counsel that one must walk carefully through the fields of affection, lest the heart mistake infatuation for devotion, or desire for destiny.

To take your time is not merely to delay—it is to honor the gravity of love. For love, unlike the fleeting pleasures of youth, is not a race to be won but a journey to be understood. In every age, those who have rushed into love without reflection have found themselves entangled in regret. The wise, however, have always known that the soul reveals itself slowly. Patience is the art of seeing beyond the glitter of the moment into the truth of the spirit. In the ancient East, the sages said, “The flower that blooms too quickly will fade before the dawn.” So too in love: what comes too easily may not endure.

The ancients told stories of this very wisdom. Consider Penelope, wife of Odysseus, who waited twenty long years for her husband’s return from war. Many suitors came, promising her comfort and luxury, but she turned them all away, for her heart understood what her eyes could not yet see—that love tested by time becomes unbreakable. She wove her tapestry by day and unwove it by night, a symbol of her patience and faith. Penelope’s endurance reminds us that time is not the enemy of love but its guardian. It refines what passion begins and reveals what truth conceals.

In her advice, Kathy Hilton speaks not only as a mother to her daughter, but as one who has seen the vanity and haste of the modern world. We live in an age that demands instant affection, where hearts are traded like trinkets, and where patience is mistaken for weakness. Yet Hilton’s words cut through that noise, reminding us that love worth having cannot be rushed—it must unfold naturally, like dawn across the mountains. To take one’s time is to give love space to breathe, to allow character to reveal itself, and to ensure that what begins with excitement ends with understanding.

Love, in its truest form, is not found in the first spark but in the steady flame that follows. The youthful heart may chase after beauty or thrill, but the wise heart seeks trust, kindness, and peace. These are not born overnight; they are cultivated through time and care. Think of Queen Victoria, who, though she met Prince Albert young, took her time to know his mind before pledging her heart. Their love endured through life’s storms because it was built not on impulse, but on respect. In this way, time becomes the builder of love’s foundation, and patience its cornerstone.

In Hilton’s gentle warning lies a profound truth: that time reveals the soul. What begins with flattery or passion will either deepen into companionship or dissolve into shadow. The only way to know which it shall be is to wait, to watch, to listen. For the heart is easily deceived in its haste, but rarely in its stillness. Those who hurry into love often find themselves building castles in sand; those who wait, build upon rock.

So let this lesson be carried forth, as one might carry a lamp through the dark corridors of life: Do not rush what is sacred. Whether in love, friendship, or calling, let patience be your compass. Take your time—not in fear, but in reverence. Learn the art of stillness in an age of speed, and remember that love that endures must first be tested by time. As the old proverb says, “Even the stars take centuries to reach us, yet when they do, their light never fades.” So it is with true love—it arrives slowly, but once it shines, it illumines the heart forever.