My favorite books are the ones that make me smile for hours after

The words of Sarah Addison Allen shimmer with warmth and gentleness: “My favorite books are the ones that make me smile for hours after reading them. I want that for my readers, for the sweetness to linger. Sort of like chocolate, but without the calories.” At first, they sound light, like a passing remark about books and treats, yet within them rests a deep truth about the purpose of art: to leave behind not only knowledge or entertainment, but a sweetness of spirit that endures long after the final page is turned.

To smile for hours after reading is no small thing. It means the story has taken root in the heart, leaving traces of joy that extend beyond the moment. Such books do not merely occupy the mind; they awaken something eternal within it. They are not consumed quickly and forgotten, but linger like a fragrance that clings to the air, like music that continues to echo even when the instruments have gone silent. In this, Allen’s words remind us that true art lives not on the page but in the memory of those who carry it.

The comparison to chocolate is not without meaning. Chocolate is a delicacy, a small indulgence that brings comfort, delight, and warmth. Yet unlike food, the sweetness of a good book does not fade with digestion—it leaves no weight, no burden, but only joy. It is sustenance of another kind, nourishment for the soul rather than the body. This is why she speaks of “without the calories”: for unlike earthly pleasures that pass, the sweetness of stories endures without regret.

History is filled with such books, such stories that leave behind lingering sweetness. Consider the works of Charles Dickens, whose tales of hardship and redemption did not only instruct, but touched the hearts of readers for generations. To read of Scrooge’s transformation in A Christmas Carol is not simply to finish a story—it is to feel one’s own heart warmed, to smile long after, as if one had personally received the gift of hope. This is the kind of legacy Allen desires for her readers: not the fleeting thrill, but the lasting smile.

There is a sacred responsibility in this longing. For to create lingering sweetness is to understand that art shapes not only minds but spirits. Writers, musicians, storytellers—all who create—are planting seeds in the hearts of others. What grows may be bitterness or beauty, sorrow or joy. Allen’s vow is clear: she seeks to plant sweetness, to leave behind joy that echoes like laughter long after the book is closed. This is no small ambition; it is the calling of a healer of the human heart.

The lesson for us is profound: we too are authors, though perhaps not of books. With every word we speak, with every gesture, with every act of kindness or cruelty, we write ourselves into the lives of others. The question is: what lingers? Will it be bitterness, or will it be sweetness that endures, like chocolate for the soul? Just as Allen longs for her readers to smile long after her words are read, so too should we long to leave others better than we found them, with light instead of shadow.

Therefore, let us act with intention. Choose words that uplift, actions that encourage, and stories that inspire. Seek to leave sweetness wherever you go, to let the memory of your presence bring a smile long after you are gone. For life itself is a book, and each of us is both reader and writer. The legacy of sweetness is the greatest legacy of all.

Carry forward Sarah Addison Allen’s wisdom: “I want the sweetness to linger, sort of like chocolate, but without the calories.” May it remind you to craft a life that nourishes others with joy, a life that lingers in memory like a smile that refuses to fade. For in the end, the truest measure of our words and deeds is not how loud they resound in the moment, but how sweetly they echo in the hearts of those who remember us.