The hardest thing to get is true emotion. I always believe you

Hear the wisdom of John Lasseter, a master of stories that breathe life into imagination: “The hardest thing to get is true emotion. I always believe you need to earn that with the audience. You can’t just tell them, ‘Ok, be sad now.’” Though he speaks of animation and film, his words reach into the very essence of human connection. For to touch another’s heart is not a thing cheaply won—it must be earned through truth, through patience, and through the weaving of meaning.

The ancients knew this truth long before stages and screens. When Homer recited the epics of Achilles or Odysseus, he did not cry out to the listeners, “Now weep!” Rather, he told of the rage of heroes, the sorrows of war, the longing for home. And in the telling, the hearts of the listeners opened of their own accord. This is what Lasseter means: true emotion is not commanded, it is awakened. It arises naturally when the story is honest, when the characters breathe with life, when the audience has been led to care.

History too bears witness to this principle. Consider Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg. He did not say to the crowd, “Mourn now.” Instead, in a few simple words, he honored the dead, praised their sacrifice, and pointed to a greater purpose. And those who listened were moved to sadness, to reverence, to resolve. His power came not from demanding emotion, but from earning it through sincerity and truth. Thus, great leaders and great artists share the same burden: to guide the heart without forcing it, to inspire rather than to command.

It is easy to manufacture sentiment, to paint a scene with heavy strokes and cry out, “Be sad, be joyful, be afraid.” But such emotions fade quickly, for they are shallow and contrived. The deeper emotions, the ones that stay with a person for a lifetime, are those that feel discovered rather than imposed. This is why Lasseter calls it “the hardest thing to get.” For it requires patience, humility, and respect for the soul of the audience. It demands that the artist, the speaker, the leader, or even the friend, labor to build trust, to craft meaning, and only then, gently, invite the heart to open.

The lesson here reaches beyond art. In daily life, when we wish to move others—whether to comfort them in grief, to stir them to action, or to share in joy—we cannot simply demand their feelings. To say “Be sad,” or “Be happy,” is to miss the depth of the human heart. Instead, we must walk with them, earn their trust, and let the emotion arise naturally. Just as a farmer cannot command the harvest but must till, water, and wait, so too must we tend to the soil of the soul if we would see true emotion bloom.

Practical action follows: when you speak, speak with honesty. When you create, create with patience. Do not seek shortcuts to the heart, but instead invite others to feel through the truth of your words and the authenticity of your deeds. In conversation, share stories instead of commands; in relationships, show kindness instead of demanding loyalty; in art, reveal truth instead of manufacturing sentiment. For what is earned is lasting, but what is forced is fleeting.

Thus Lasseter’s words, though born in the craft of cinema, carry the weight of eternal teaching. The heart is a sacred thing, not to be manipulated, but to be honored. The true artist, like the true leader, does not shout at the soul but sings to it, and in that song awakens laughter, sorrow, and love. Remember, then: emotion cannot be commanded—it must be earned. And when it is earned, it endures, echoing in the heart long after the story has ended.