You respect all of these people that you know in the business as

When Lucy Liu spoke the words, “You respect all of these people that you know in the business as actors. And they sort of turn around and say, we really like your work. It's a nice acknowledgment,” she revealed one of the quiet but profound truths of human endeavor: that recognition from those we ourselves admire carries a special weight, a sweetness greater than applause from the faceless crowd. It is not the praise of strangers, but the nod of peers—the ones who know the struggle, the craft, the sacrifice—that nourishes the spirit most deeply.

The respect she speaks of is no shallow courtesy. To respect another in one’s own field is to bow to their mastery, to acknowledge the long hours, the failures, and the triumphs that have shaped them. Liu speaks as one who has gazed upon fellow actors with admiration, perhaps even with awe. Yet what transforms her words into a teaching is the moment when this respect flows back, when those she honors turn and say to her, “We really like your work.” This is not flattery, but a communion of equals, a recognition among artisans of the same temple.

The ancients understood this well. Consider the poets of Greece, whose verses competed in festivals before their peers. To win the laurel crown was a great honor, but to hear a rival poet, himself skilled and tested, speak words of admiration—that was the true prize. Or recall the story of Michelangelo and Raphael, rivals in paint and stone, who nonetheless recognized one another’s genius. History shows us that when equals meet in admiration, a higher kind of respect is born, one that transcends rivalry and feeds the soul with quiet strength.

The acknowledgment Liu describes is more than mere words; it is validation of the inner fire. For every artist, every worker, every human being labors with the fear that their efforts may be unseen, their voice unheard. Applause may fade, awards may gather dust, but the recognition of one’s peers—those who understand the weight of the path—is eternal. It reminds us that we do not walk alone, that our struggles are witnessed, that our craft has value not only to the world, but to those who practice it alongside us.

In her humility, Liu calls it simply “a nice acknowledgment.” Yet hidden in that simplicity is a profound truth: greatness does not always shout, it often whispers. It is in the small nods, the quiet words, the passing gestures of respect that we find the most enduring encouragement. Just as the soldier treasures the clasp of a comrade’s hand more than the cheers of the crowd, so too does the artist treasure the respect of fellow artists.

For us, the lesson is timeless. In whatever path we walk—be it art, science, teaching, labor, or leadership—we must seek not only the praise of the many, but the respect of the few who truly understand. And likewise, we must be generous in giving acknowledgment to others. If we respect someone’s work, let us say so, for our words may be the very encouragement that carries them forward. The circle of respect grows only when each person both receives and gives.

Practical wisdom follows: in your daily life, honor those you admire by speaking your respect aloud. Do not let admiration remain silent, for your words may be the fuel to another’s fire. And when respect is given to you, accept it with humility, knowing it is a sign that your labor has meaning. Remember always that the deepest form of acknowledgment is not in trophies or applause, but in the shared respect of those who understand the weight of your craft.

Thus, Lucy Liu’s words remind us: respect received from those we respect is among life’s greatest treasures. It is the bond that unites peers across generations, the quiet affirmation that we have done our work well, and that our light, however modest, shines brightly enough to be seen by others walking the same path. Let us cherish such acknowledgments, and let us offer them freely, for they are the lifeblood of excellence, humility, and human connection.