One cannot weep for the entire world, it is beyond human

Hear the voice of the playwright and philosopher, Jean Anouilh, who uttered the sobering truth: “One cannot weep for the entire world, it is beyond human strength. One must choose.” These words rise from the depths of compassion and limitation, teaching us that though the human heart may long to embrace all suffering, it is bounded by its own frailty. To try to bear every sorrow is to be crushed beneath its weight; to give oneself wholly to none is to betray those who need us most. Thus, Anouilh calls us not to despair, but to choose—to direct our love, our grief, our action, where it may matter most.

The meaning is this: human strength is finite. We are not gods, who can stretch their arms across the universe. We are men and women, with fragile bodies and limited hours. To waste our tears on the impossible task of mourning for all is to spend ourselves in futility. But to choose a single cause, a single person, a single suffering to embrace, is to turn compassion into action. It is in choosing that our grief becomes fruitful, that our sympathy becomes healing.

The ancients knew this well. Consider the tale of Diogenes, who walked with his lantern in search of an honest man. He did not set out to reform the entire city of Athens, nor to lament every soul he deemed false. Instead, he sought one, even if elusive, who could embody truth. His choice gave focus to his philosophy, and his legacy endured. So too must we choose where to pour our limited strength, lest we scatter it so widely that nothing grows.

History gives us a striking example in Mother Teresa. She did not attempt to heal every wound on earth, nor to embrace the suffering of all humanity at once. Instead, she chose the poor of Calcutta, the dying abandoned in the streets. By focusing her tears and her labor there, she became a beacon for the world. In choosing the few, she touched the many. Anouilh’s wisdom breathes in her life: it is not weakness to choose; it is the only way to endure.

Yet there is sorrow in this truth, for the heart longs to heal all, to weep for all. Many are tormented by guilt, feeling that to focus on one sorrow is to neglect countless others. But Anouilh speaks against such despair: it is not betrayal to choose, it is necessity. Beyond human strength lies only exhaustion, but within our strength lies the power to change the world of one person, one family, one community. And in such choices, the ripple spreads outward.

The lesson, then, is luminous: do not seek to carry all the world’s burdens upon your shoulders. You are not called to mend every fracture, but to heal where your hands can reach. Choose the cause that speaks to your soul, the sorrow you cannot ignore, the person who stands before you in need. Pour your tears there, and let your compassion become action. For in choosing, you do not diminish your humanity—you fulfill it.

Practical actions must follow. Look upon the vast suffering of the world without despair, and ask: Where is my strength best given? Whom can I help today? Let your efforts be focused, not scattered. Support causes close to your heart, give your time where your presence is most needed, and be faithful to the small circle entrusted to you. In doing so, you participate in a greater work than if you had drowned in sorrow for all.

For remember this eternal truth: to weep for all is impossible, but to choose wisely is divine. Each act of focused compassion is a flame, and many flames together can light the whole earth. As Anouilh teaches, accept your human limits, and let your choice turn weakness into strength, and sorrow into love that endures.