The past always looks better than it was. It's only pleasant

“The past always looks better than it was. It’s only pleasant because it isn’t here.” Thus spoke Finley Peter Dunne, the humorist and keen observer of human nature. With sharp wit, he revealed a truth as old as memory itself: that men, blinded by longing, dress the past in garments of gold, forgetting the dust and ashes that once clung to it. We recall joys but not the full weight of their cost; we treasure moments stripped of the burdens that accompanied them. In this way, the past becomes a dream softened by distance, while the present, with all its thorns, seems harsher by comparison.

The origin of this insight lies in the human heart. For memory is not a perfect mirror, but a painter who chooses which colors to use. Often it brightens the hues of joy and darkens the shades of sorrow until they blend into forgetfulness. Thus, what was once filled with struggle appears to us later as a golden age. Dunne, with his humor, unmasks this tendency, reminding us that our fondness for the past is not always truth but illusion. We call it sweet not because it was sweeter, but because it no longer weighs upon us.

Consider the tale of the Great Depression. Those who endured it spoke often of its harshness—breadlines, unemployment, and despair. Yet in later years, many remembered it with surprising fondness: neighbors helping neighbors, families finding joy in simple things, communities forged by hardship. Both memories are true, but one was sharpened by pain, the other softened by distance. This is what Dunne meant: the past feels pleasant only when freed from its immediate burdens. It is remembered in light, but lived in shadow.

So too in ancient times. The Romans, in their days of empire, often looked back with longing upon the “good old days” of the Republic. Yet those earlier days were marked by civil wars, poverty, and chaos. Still, memory painted them as purer, simpler, and nobler than the present. Thus men deceive themselves, thinking their ancestors lived in golden times, forgetting that those same ancestors also longed for days even earlier still. The cycle is endless: the past always seems brighter because it no longer wounds us in the way the present does.

There is both warning and comfort here. The warning is not to be ensnared by nostalgia, for to live only in the past is to neglect the gift of the present. We must remember that every age has its burdens, and that what seems bitter now may one day be remembered with tenderness. The comfort lies in knowing that today’s struggles may yet become tomorrow’s cherished memory, not because they were easy, but because endurance reshapes them into triumph.

The lesson for future generations is this: do not worship the past, nor despise the present. Understand that memory gilds yesterday, while reality weighs on today. Live wisely now, for one day this hour will also become memory, and perhaps others will look back on it with longing. Let that thought guide you to fill your present with deeds worth remembering, rather than complaints that will fade.

Practical actions follow. Be mindful of how you tell the stories of your own life. Honor the truth of hardship, but also the grace found within it. Do not compare today unfavorably to yesterday, for you see only the polished relic, not the raw struggle. Instead, act today with courage, patience, and love, so that when memory softens it, it may indeed deserve its golden glow.

Thus, let Dunne’s words stand as a mirror to the heart: “The past always looks better than it was. It’s only pleasant because it isn’t here.” Do not be deceived by shadows of yesterday, nor imprisoned by illusions of loss. Take hold of the present, for it too shall pass—and what you do with it now will determine whether future generations remember it as a burden or as a blessing.