Storybooks were always a big part of my imagination, and my

In the words of Jesse Williams, actor, scholar, and thinker, there lies a truth that reaches far beyond his own life: “Storybooks were always a big part of my imagination, and my childhood and adolescence.” Though simple at first glance, these words carry the weight of every child who has ever dreamed, every heart that has ever been shaped by stories. For storybooks are not merely pages and ink — they are vessels of transformation, bridges between what is and what might be. In them live the first fires of imagination, and from those fires, the soul begins to awaken to its own power.

The ancients understood this long before the age of screens and cities. Around the fires of the old world, when the stars were the only lamps in the sky, elders would tell stories to the young — of gods and heroes, beasts and men, of creation and the fall of kingdoms. These tales were not idle amusements, but sacred tools for shaping the heart. For through story, the young learned to see beyond their own lives; they learned courage from Achilles, wisdom from Solomon, compassion from the Buddha. And so, when Jesse Williams recalls that storybooks shaped his imagination, he speaks not only of himself, but of a lineage stretching back to the dawn of humankind — when imagination was the first light that broke the darkness.

Childhood, he reminds us, is the fertile soil of the soul. It is during those early years, when the world is still half magic and half mystery, that the seeds of wonder are sown. The child who reads learns not only of worlds beyond his own, but also of the possibilities within. In the turning of each page, the young spirit discovers courage, empathy, and the quiet strength of hope. And these discoveries, carried silently into adolescence, become the foundation of character. The boy who imagines dragons learns to face fear; the girl who reads of heroes learns that justice can be pursued; and both come to understand that life’s greatest battles are first won in the imagination.

Consider the story of Malala Yousafzai, the girl who defied tyranny with the strength of her mind. Before she became the youngest Nobel laureate, she was a child who read — who saw through storybooks that knowledge and freedom were treasures worth fighting for. Her imagination, nourished by words, became her armor. The power she found in stories became a living force that changed nations. Thus, Williams’ reflection is not nostalgia — it is prophecy. Those who are fed by stories in youth will grow into those who can reshape the story of the world itself.

The imagination is the womb of creation. What begins in the quiet reading of a child may one day become the art, invention, or revolution that alters the course of history. For every great work — whether it be a poem, a painting, a discovery, or a dream — begins first as a spark in the unseen. When Jesse Williams speaks of storybooks as a great part of his inner life, he points to this eternal truth: the imagination trained in youth does not fade — it evolves. It becomes the source of empathy, vision, and innovation that every age so desperately needs.

But woe to the world that forgets this truth. In an age where noise replaces narrative and screens replace stories, many grow up without the slow, sacred work of imaginative reflection. To read is to dream deliberately; it is to dwell in the depths of another mind. Without that exercise, the imagination grows frail, and with it, compassion and vision begin to die. The storybook, therefore, is not merely a relic of childhood — it is a forge for the moral and creative spirit.

So take this lesson to heart, my child: return often to the storybooks that once guided your wonder. Read not only for pleasure, but for remembrance — to rekindle that ancient fire that first taught you to see beyond yourself. Let stories feed your imagination, for imagination is the root of understanding, and understanding the mother of wisdom. Seek tales that uplift, that challenge, that heal. And do not outgrow your wonder — for the day you cease to imagine, you cease to truly live.

In the end, as Jesse Williams teaches, storybooks are not just companions of childhood — they are the architects of the soul. Guard them. Share them. Live them. For through story, you will find again the world’s lost magic — and through imagination, you will remember that you are both the reader and the author of your own story.