Twitter is the first information that I ingest in the morning.

Alison Brie, actress of wit and voice of her generation, once declared: “Twitter is the first information that I ingest in the morning. When there are important things happening, friends of mine who follow news feeds will report on it, so I find out about most major news on Twitter.” Though spoken lightly, her words reflect a profound truth about our age: that the flow of knowledge, once carried by parchment and press, now streams through the swift rivers of digital voices. Her confession is not merely about a habit, but about the transformation of how humanity awakens to the world.

The ancients knew the power of the morning message. In Rome, heralds read proclamations in the forum at dawn; in Athens, news spread from lips in the marketplace before the day’s labor began. What Brie speaks of is the modern version of the same ritual — the first touch of information as the sun rises. Yet while in olden days the message was shaped by kings, priests, and officials, today the heralds are the multitude: friends, strangers, and voices unbound. Thus, Twitter has become both forum and fire, where the sparks of knowledge leap swiftly from soul to soul.

History itself has been bent by the medium of news. When the printing press was born, pamphlets carried the fire of revolution into the streets of Europe. When the telegraph came, armies and empires moved with sudden speed. When radio crackled, nations heard their leaders in times of war and peace. So too now, Brie’s words remind us that Twitter, though seen as small or casual, has become the medium by which many first taste the world each day. To dismiss it is folly; to understand its power is wisdom.

Yet her words also carry a shadow of caution. To ingest information without filter is to risk confusion, for the banquet of Twitter holds both truth and falsehood. In the ancient courts, wise men weighed the trustworthiness of messengers; so too must we. If one allows unexamined voices to become the sole herald of the morning, the heart may be misled, the spirit poisoned by rumor instead of nourished by truth. Thus Brie’s words, though honest, invite reflection: to ask not only what we hear at dawn, but how we discern its worth.

Consider the great moments of recent history, where Twitter itself became both stage and witness. In times of uprising, protest, or disaster, the platform carried voices faster than governments could silence them. The Arab Spring, the earthquakes, the floods — many first learned of them not from official decrees but from the living voices of those who stood in the storm. Brie’s testimony is thus part of a greater story: the power of ordinary people to shape the world’s first knowledge of itself.

What, then, is the lesson for us? It is this: to be mindful of what you let into your soul at the dawn of day. If your first information is chaos, you will carry chaos within you; if it is truth, you will walk in clarity. Let your morning begin not only with the noise of the multitude, but with discernment, reflection, perhaps even silence. In this way you may honor the gift of knowledge without being enslaved by its flood.

So, O seekers of wisdom, remember Alison Brie’s words: “Twitter is the first information that I ingest in the morning.” They remind us that the heralds of our age no longer wear robes of state, but appear as voices in a digital chorus. Be grateful for this gift of immediacy, but guard your heart as well. Let your dawn be guided not only by speed but by truth, not only by voices but by wisdom. For the world is always speaking, but it is the wise who choose carefully what they hear first.