The trouble with life is that there are so many beautiful women

Hear the playful yet poignant words of John Barrymore, the great actor of stage and screen, who declared: “The trouble with life is that there are so many beautiful women and so little time.” At first, these words may sound like the jest of a man known for his wit and his romantic escapades. Yet beneath the humor lies a deeper reflection on the fleeting nature of existence, the abundance of beauty in the world, and the brevity of our days to cherish it. It is both a celebration of desire and a lament for mortality.

The origin of this saying rests in Barrymore’s own life. Known as one of the most charismatic actors of the early twentieth century, he was also renowned for his charm, his romances, and his thirst for beauty. To him, beautiful women were not simply objects of attraction, but living embodiments of life’s vitality, art, and wonder. Yet even as he sought their company, he felt the shadow of time pressing upon him, reminding him that no man, however wealthy or adored, could drink deeply enough of life’s pleasures before the cup ran dry.

History offers us many echoes of this truth. Consider Casanova, the Venetian adventurer, lover, and writer. His memoirs tell of countless romances, yet beneath the tales of passion there is often a note of sorrow—the awareness that every affair ended, every embrace slipped into memory, and that even he, the great seducer, could not escape the relentless march of time. Both Casanova and Barrymore remind us that abundance itself can be bittersweet, for life overflows with beauty, yet our days are finite.

The deeper meaning of Barrymore’s words is not only about women but about the abundance of wonders in life. There are more books to be read, more places to be traveled, more friendships to be forged, more sunsets to be admired than any one person can experience. The human heart aches at this reality: the world is overflowing with beauty, yet our time is so little. The longing Barrymore expresses is the longing of all humanity—to drink more deeply from the well of existence than the years allow.

The lesson for us is not to despair at this limitation, but to cherish what is before us. Yes, there will always be more beauty than we can ever embrace. But this is the glory of existence—that even in one lifetime, we can taste a portion of infinity. The key is not to pursue everything, but to savor fully the few treasures we are given, whether in love, friendship, or passion.

To the youth, I say: do not waste your time chasing endlessly after what you cannot hold. Learn to dwell deeply in the beauty that is already in your grasp. To lovers, I say: cherish not only the outer form but the inner soul of those you embrace, for beauty of spirit outlasts beauty of face. To all, I say: let Barrymore’s lament remind you not to rush frantically, but to live with intensity, tasting fully what each day offers.

Practical action lies before us: slow your pace, lift your eyes, and notice beauty where it blooms—in a loved one’s smile, in the music of laughter, in the radiance of nature. Instead of mourning the limits of time, let those limits teach you to live with urgency and gratitude. Make each encounter, each friendship, each act of love a sacred flame, burning brightly before the darkness falls.

Thus John Barrymore’s words endure: “So many beautiful women, and so little time.” They are more than a jest of romance—they are a reminder of life’s abundance and brevity. Let us pass down this teaching: that beauty is everywhere, and though our years are few, the depth with which we cherish what we find determines the richness of our lives. For in the end, it is not the number of beauties we behold, but the fullness with which we love them, that defines our eternity.